Mass Effect: Human Revolution
by IgnusDei
Summary: Adam Jensen finds himself in a time only dreamed of in vids, humanity is now part of a great galactic community that fears synthetics, and he struggles to find his place within it. Note: Primarily a DX/ME crossover, with elements borrowed and integrated from other Square Enix franchises.
1. Prologue 1

Author's Note: Something I did to work out the stress of the…lackluster endings in Mass Effect 3. I'm not sure where I'm going to take this. There's three titles to start from. Most crossovers start with ME2 these days…on the other hand ME3 is freshest in my head. We'll see.

CODEX ENTRY – Jensen, Adam

Adam Jensen (born in 1993) is the last known mechanically augmented human being since the Great Crash of 2052, as well as a veteran of the Corporate Wars of 2029.

One of the hundreds of subjects in the Sarif Cache found in old Detroit in 2175 (and thus far the only one to have been successfully brought out of stasis), Jensen's awakening has caused hundreds of legal and ethical debates in academic circles to erupt on Earth due to the legality of his extensive cybernetic modifications. Although he could not be charged since these laws were not _ex post facto_. Anti-augmentation advocates are now desperately trying to amend Article 1 Section 9 of the United North American States' Constitution to implement such laws, a factor in Jensen's decision to leave Earth in favor of the colonies.

He eventually attempted to settle on Elysium, shortly before Skyllian Blitz. Afterwards, he left for the Citadel, where he signed on as a C-Sec officer. He was quickly promoted to the rank of Corporal on C-Sec's Homicide Desk after finding enough evidence to put Cylenander, the Hanar serial child murderer, away for life.

CODEX ENTRY – Sarif Cache

In the aftermath of the Corporate Wars, a brief yet bloody conflict that claimed hundreds of thousands of lives, anti-augmentation sentiment (which were already reaching a boiling point due to the Pangea Incident) rose to new heights, and biotech legislation progressively went from regulation to outright ban.

David Sarif, a polarizing figure of his time and an ardent proponent of human augmentation, predicted what he described as a "dark age of technology". To preserve the works of his company and provide humanity "answers to questions it is ready to ask", Sarif spent a significant portion of his waning fortune into Project Legacy: the construction of a hidden underground bunker filled with electronic data storage and printed media on biotech and cybernetics. Most importantly, Sarif had hundreds of his staff cryogenically preserved in the underground facility. It was sealed in 2031, and discovered and opened in 2175 by archeologists.

Project Legacy's success as an elaborate time capsule is arguable: most of the technologies found within are now very illegal, but the schematics for the PEDOT Cluster led to significant advances in modern Biotic implants. To this day, various universities petition the UNAS Government for access to the cache, with little success. As for the frozen staff, over 20 percent of the Cryo-pods shut down due to power loss, and flaws in the thawing process means that the rest cannot be opened without great risk to the sleeper. Only one subject has been successfully brought out of stasis: a security guard known as Adam Jensen.

Culturally, the cache was an interesting look into the daily lives of people before the Great Crash of 2052. Articles of clothing, Artwork and various other pieces of entertainment electronics and media were put on display at a museum. Visiting Asari took well to the display, and now the "Neo-Renaissance" style of clothing and architecture is seeing resurgence on Asari colony worlds, especially on Ilium.

SHADOW BROKER DOSSIER – Adam Jensen

Subject: Jensen, Adam

Gender: Male

Date of Birth: March 9th 1993 (Earth Anno Domini Calendar) in Detroit

Nationality: Former US American

Height: 1.92 m

Weight: 90 kilos

Hair color: Dark Brown

Eye Color: Green Yellow (Artificial)

Blood Type: O Negative.

Profession: Currently employed by C-Sec as a detective. Former Chief of Security of cybernetics corporation Sarif Industries. Former SWAT Specialist.

Threat Evaluation:

Tela Vasir Recording (audio):

_TV: I had the pleasure of seeing Jensen at work during a bank robbery gone bad in Zakera Ward. He and I were already inside, in line to do our banking when ten armed Asari - some gang of maidens that like to call themselves the Daughters of Anarchy who were crazy enough to operate in the Citadel of all places – decided to barge in right through the front door and blasted the guards away with their combined biotics. I was in my civvies so I decided to play the part, discreetly alerting C-Sec with my omni-tool. Well, the Daughters of Whatever were smart enough to have a signal jammer on, and My SigInt program needed time to cut through the static. While I was doing this, Adam had simply vanished in the initial chaos. When the robbers spread out to secure the area and round up the civilians in case they'd need hostages…that's when things started to go wrong for them. One by one they stopped reporting in: some just went quiet; others screamed and then went quiet. And then there were two: The leader, this brick shithouse of a maiden carrying one of those big fuck-off shotguns the krogan are into, and this wired little bitch with an LMG. Too young to have any real experience, she cracked under the pressure and started shooting up the ceiling, screaming "Come on out, phantom!"_

_Nihlus Kryik: Did she hit any civilians?_

_TV: She was getting there, but then (laughs) but then –fuck me!- out of nowhere comes this fridge, fast as a cannonball, and it bashed right into her! She was out like a lamp!_

_NK: He used Biotics?_

_TV: Don't think so. No flare. _

_NK: That left the leader…_

_TV: Right. So the leader grabs this human girl – tiny, not much older than…oh, fourteen?I don't know - and puts that shotgun to her head. Classic hostage situation. I was getting ready to spring into action when this yellow golden glow in the shape of a man erupts some ten meters away from the leader and faded into Adam with his hands up. That was a surprise: I didn't know C-Sec had access to personal cloakers._

_NK: They don't._

_TV: Right, anyways. That gang leader? Still so new at this she makes all the classic demands you see in the vids: first she asks him to drop his weapon – which, by the way, was still holstered – and when she hears the sirens outside and changes her demands to a getaway car and a shuttle to Bekenstein… but you could tell she knew she wasn't in control of the situation._

_NK: She was bound to do something stupid. _

_TV: Well, it turns out our boy Adam has got a…what's the human expression? A silver tongue? He convinced her to let go of the kid well enough, but then she had a brilliant idea._

_NK: She figured a cop would make a better hostage?_

_TV: A cop that just took down her gang, no less. It didn't end well._

_NK: I can imagine: I just pulled the case file: she's in a coma right now with three broken ribs, a punctured lung and both arms broken in several places._

_TV: Got off easy._

_NK: So why didn't you intervene?_

_TV: Didn't have my gear. Also, I wanted to see him in action. Say…why are _you_ interested in him? _

_NK: I can't talk about it._

_TV: You know, you hear all kinds of things on the Presidium…_

_NK: Really._

_TV: Humanity is pushing for a human Spectre again…_

_NK: Hm-hm._

_TV: The Council taking that request seriously…_

_NK: Imagine that._

_TV: …You're scouting him for the Spectres!_

_NK: I can't talk about it._

_TV: Kryik, come on, if you can't trust your fellow Spectres, who can you trust?_

_NK: …It doesn't matter. If there's a list of candidates, Jensen's name wouldn't be in it for long._

_TV: Do I need to mention the fridge again?_

_NK: …I have a better idea of his abilities than you think. The fact of the matter is that a significant amount of people on Earth - important people - consider him to be a walking, breathing war crime. Humanity wouldn't want him as a Specter..._

_TV: …What about Elysium? You'd think they'd hail him as a hero._

_NK: Adam doesn't like media attention, and his role in halting the Blitz was downplayed by Alliance propaganda._

_TV: You sound disappointed. _

_NK: Politics shouldn't factor in Spectre recruitment. _

*Recording Ends*


	2. Prologue 2

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

-Prologue 2-

SHADOW BROKER FILES – Jensen, Adam (2)

**Audio transcript / Presidium**

_Adam Jensen: Saren's hiding something! Every lead we pursued vanished without a trace. Every call, every extranet search we made was monitored or halted by the Spectres! They even hacked our computers!_

_Executor Pallin: That's the Spectres for you. I'll say one good thing about them: they look after their own…_

_Garrus Vakarian: Even when one of theirs is responsible for the deaths of thousands of civilians? Even when one is responsible for the death of another?_

_EP: You two seem to be under the impression that a Spectre causing the deaths of thousands is some kind of dire catastrophe worthy of the history books. For the Spectres, it's a Tuesday. They've gotten plenty of public accusations over the centuries; some of them false, some of them true, and they've learned to deal with them efficiently._

_AJ: Are you saying the Spectres are in on-_

_EP: I didn't say that. I'm saying getting accused of atrocities happens too frequently to the Spectres. After a while, they stopped caring if they're true or not. Defending their own is pretty much a reflex now. They only act against one another at the command of the Council._

_GV: Then let us keep investigating! If we find even a small piece of evidence that points to Saren being dirty, they'll gladly help us put his head on the chopping block!_

_EP: Not possible. The Council has already reviewed the evidence-_

_AJ: -which currently amounts to zero._

_EP: -and they'll make their verdict shortly._

_(sounds of footsteps. Three pairs)_

_GV: Give us more time! Stall them!_

_EP: Stall the Council? Don't be ridiculous. Your investigation is over, Detectives. _

_sounds of footsteps, one pair, fading away_

_silence, 10 seconds_

_Jun Shepard: So…um. How about those glow in the dark trees…I guess? Also, space._

_GV: Commander Shepard?_

_JS: The one and only. _

_GV: Garrus Vakarian, I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation into Saren. This is my partner, Adam Jensen._

_AJ: Ms. Shepard._

_JS: Pleased to meet you both. So, just between you and me, did you find anything that might help me nail him to the wall or at the very least embarrass him in front of his friends?_

_GV: No. Saren's a Spectre. Anything he touches is classified-_

_AJ: -That didn't stop me, though. _

_Kaidan Alenko: You tried to hack into a Spectre's files? Damn._

_GV: And that wound up bringing down the wrath of the Spectres on our heads. They thwarted us at every turn. Couldn't find anything solid._

_JS: Damn._

_KA: I think the Council's ready for us, Commander._

_JS: Well, that's my cue. Detectives._

_AJ: Ms Shepard._

_End of Recording_

_-0-_

**VIDEO FILE CTDL-04201C**

(tracking subjects: Commander Jun Shepard, Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams.)

(filtering background noise…done)

_Ashley Williams: Holy Mother of…that was_ him! _The _Monster!

_Jun Shepard: Who in the what now?_

_AW: The Frankenstein Monster! How can you not know about him?_

_KA: He _was_ all over the news on Earth back in '75._

_JS: Well goshdarnit would you mind explaining to this poor colony farmgirl what this Frankenstein nonsense is about? I swears I can't hardly keep up with all this core-world nonsense of yers!_

_AW: Well, the Franken-_

_JS: -I've read Mary Shelley, Chief. I just don't see the connection between a ruggedly handsome cop and a flesh golem animated by lightning._

_AW: You've seen his hands, right?_

_JS: So he's got prosthetic hands. Still not seeing the connection._

_AW: He's like this all over! Fake arms, fake legs, fake lungs, fake _heart._ Even parts of his brains are electronic!_

_KA: In other words he's mostly synthetic._

_AW: Right! What if he's controlled by Saren? What if he's been compromised by the Geth? You've seen those Husks!_

_JS: He didn't seem particularly overcome with the desire to eat my brains, Chief._

_AW: Nobody human modifies himself like that unless he's got a thirst for it. What if Saren offered him more mods?_

_KA: Well, they don't make augmentations like his anymore… could be tempting._

_JS: And you're making assumptions on his character based on…what? A one minute conversation and the fact that he's augmented up the arse? Chief, you realize that me and the LT are augmented, right? Hell, you've got gene mods yourself. _

_AW: Those gene mods keep me at peak human performance, well within what was meant to be, so that's not the same thing! And your implants are designed to help you manage your natural abilities…_

_JS: Chief, my abilities are the result of me breathing in too much Eezo as a kid. There's nothing natural about them. And because of those implants I need another one in my skull to remind myself who I am and who I'm supposed to know every once in a while._

_AW: You're…?_

_JS: Yep. And I've yet to sing the praises of Saren._

_AW: I'm sorry ma'am, I-I really shouldn't have said anything._

_tracking subject Captain David Anderson_

_DA: Jun!_

_JS: Sir!_

_DA: If you're quite done arguing with your _subordinates_, we've got a meeting with the _Council_ to attend!_

_(increasing audio volume)_

_JS: …ver could back down from a fight._

_DA: Probably your worst flaw._

_JS: Heh, yeah I-urgh._

_DA: Jun?_

_KA: Ma'am?_

_JS: I'm okay, I'm okay. I'm just overdue for a dose of Neuropozine._

_DA: Chakwas didn't give you your dose? _

_JS: You know what that shit does to me. Need to keep my head on straight… _

_End of Video_

_-0-_

**Audio Transcript: Presidium tower elevator**

(Muzak playing)

_Adam Jensen: I am NOT in the mood for this._

(Sound of Omni Tool activating)

Static

recalibrating mic…done

_Garrus Vakarian: …ittle extreme, don't you think?_

_AJ: Don't want to listen to this crap for the next twenty minutes and get it stuck in my head when I go to sleep._

_GV: Off to grab a few winks?_

_AJ: I've haven't slept in days, so yeah. What about you?_

_GV: Hm…I still got a few leads I need to check on. _

_AJ: Not giving up?_

_GV: …No. I can't. I know Pallin doesn't want me to keep at it…but Saren just rubs me the wrong way. What about you?_

_AJ: …I'm still in. You need me to tag along?_

_GV: Nah, I can handle this one by myself. Just get some rest. I'll keep you updated._

_AJ: Right._

_(Silence, 5 minutes door chime)_

_GV: Well, this is my stop. Sweet dreams, Jensen._

_AJ: Thanks._

_(door chime. Silence, 3 minutes)_

_AJ: (sigh)_

_-0-_

**Audio file - Phone Call – CSec Dispatch/Adam Jensen's apartment.**

_Adam Jensen: I'm up, I'm up._

_Ishoth Fazzik: Mister Jensen? We have a Code 98 at Aguilar Memorial hospital. Officers have already cordoned off the area. Executor Pallin has ordered your immediate-_

_AJ: -wait, wait, slow down. There's been a murder? Who's the vic?_

_IF: An Alliance Marine by the name of…beeping sounds Junko Zayne Shepard._

_(5 seconds of silence)_

_IF: Sir? Are you there?_

_AJ: I'm on my way._

_End of Recording_

CODEX ENTRY: Augmentation.

Augmentation is a catch-all term for the sciences and technologies meant to improve the physical performance of an organic being through cybernetics, genetics or even simple chemicals.

The legality of augmentation varies from species to species, from method to method. The Citadel, however, strictly restricts biomodification to enhance the existing abilities of a species. Adding new limbs and extra organs would be a violation of these laws.

Salarians happily embrace all forms of augmentations, although they prefer to apply it to more primitive species. Turians are lukewarm to the idea, but are willing to replace limbs with mechanical prosthesis and implant electronics in their soldier's brains to enhance battlefield awareness. Krogan are repulsed by the idea: enhancing themselves is essentially an admission of weakness.

Humanity is a peculiar case. While humans once attempted to embrace mechanical augmentation in the early decades of the 21st century, the social, political and economical turmoil caused by the technology is blamed for the Corporate Wars, the rise of the National Secessionist Forces, the worldwide pandemic called the Gray Death, and finally the Great Worldwide Crash of 2052 (better known as The Collapse). As a result, a deep hatred towards performance enhancing cybernetics still exists on Earth, and its laws on human augmentation reflect this. These laws have been slowly changed due the advent of human biotics, who need electronic implants to manage their abilities or become a hazard to themselves and everyone around them.

On the other hand, shortly after their recovery from The Collapse, humans were all too eager to engage in biomodifying animals and micro-organisms. This has led to the creation of useful medical devices and treatments, such as Medi-Gel, which is now used throughout the galaxy.


	3. Chapter 1

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

-Chapter 1-

Adam couldn't bear to look into her eyes.

He had seen the same look in the eyes of a dead junkie lying down on a bench in the subway. It was on his first day on the job as a patrolman back in Detroit: the junkie was 17, had apparently been kicked out of his home, ran with the wrong crowd, got hooked to the needle, and caught a disease. Typical story. No health insurance. No education. No prospects. No one to give a helping hand.

No future. No hope. And he knew it. It's why he injected himself with a triple dose, but not even the incredible heroin high could dispel that look of hopelessness in his final moments.

Junko Zayne Shepard was staring out into nothing with the same expression. She would never fight again. She would never be a hero again. She would never be able to retire. She would never be able to settle down, get married, have kids – the whole white picket fence package. Did she even want it? The discoloration on her ring finger suggested to Adam that she might have, once upon a time.

The knife in her heart put a stop to that notion.

_Soak it in, _Adam told himself. _Remember that someone's responsible for this, and it's your job to put him in a tiny windowless cell for the rest of his natural life._

Adam resisted the urge to close Junko's eyes, his training reminding him not to contaminate the scene. He scanned the room again, making mental notes of any objects of interest: The body, the knife, the blood on the sheets and on the floor. The Holomonitor mounted on the wall. The medical scanner with its monitors turned off. The IV drip. The emergency cart complete with defibrillator. A bouquet of flowers - Cherry Blossoms - was resting on the commode. He turned to the forensics tech, an Asari Matron named Euridycia. She was busy scanning and cataloguing everything in the room with her Omni Tool for further investigation in a VR simulation of the scene. She and Adam's feet were floating an inch above the bloody floor thanks to a mass effect field put in place to prevent contamination of any potential evidence.

"Euri?" asked Jensen. "What have you got for me?"

Euri, always all business, answered in her detached manner: "Victim: Lieutenant Commander Junko Zayne Shepard, Alliance Marine Corps. Human (of European and Russian-Japanese descent) female of twenty-nine years of age. Height is one meter and eighty-two centimeters. Weight: 82 kilos. Cause of death…"

She motioned towards the blade buried in the corpse's chest.

"…severe trauma to the heart due to a bladed weapon."

"Can you tell me anything about the murder weapon?"

Euri typed on her Omni Tool. A holo of the weapon hovered above her hand.

"It's a Type 98 Alliance Navy utility knife. Standard issue for any Marine. No fingerprints."

"How hard is it to get one legally?"

"Not very. Military surplus stores sell them. Since it's not a mechanical weapon, there's no need for a permit to carry one on the Citadel."

"Hm, well, that's something to work with."

"Anything else?"

Something was bothering Adam: the last time he saw Shepard, she looked healthy and ready to take down a Spectre. What was she doing in a hospital?

"What was she being treated for?" he asked. "Some kind of disease?"

"No, she's an L3 Biotic," said Euri, as if the answer was self-evident.

"…That doesn't really tell me anything."

"Really? I thought it would, since you're a cyborg. Look, human biotics technology is still in its infancy: the implant architectures your scientists come up with have these quirks. L2 architecture implantees suffered from some pretty nasty side effects…but they could take their medicine without too many problems. The L3s were supposed to be more stable, except that all L3 Biotics don't react very well to Neuropozyne. A small percentage of them, which our victim was unfortunately part of, react really, really badly to the compound."

To Adam, the existence of Neuropozyne in the 2180's was one hell of a surprise. When he was thawed, Adam figured Sarif or someone else had reconstructed Megan's research into the gene therapy necessary to make Nu-poz completely obsolete.

"What kind of reaction do they get?"

"The implants cause every single element zero node in their bodies to flare. They essentially Warp themselves apart. It's not pretty. In order to counteract this…"

Euri brought out another file in her Omni, and then continued: "…the L3 is given a specialized artificial enzyme - an acetylcholine inhibitor- along with the Neuropozyne to shut down his or her peripheral nervous system and her eezo nodes along with it."

"So she was effectively paralyzed?"

"Yes."

_She couldn't fight back, _Adam thought to himself bitterly. "Any other health issues?"

"Yes, the enzyme can also cause moderate to severe memory loss. In order to deal with it, she got this."

Euri brought out another holograph out of her omni. To Jensen, it looked a lot like a neural hub, only smaller. "What am I looking at?" he asked.

"A graybox," she answered. "It's basically a memory recorder."

That piqued Adam's interest. Getting a look at Shepard's last moments could be useful if any other leads dried up. Euri sensed Adam's intentions from his expression and smiled.

"I've got a request to extract the implant all typed up and ready to send to C-Sec Legal. Once they get permission from next of kin, I'll be able to get her final moments on video."

"Send the request. I'll take what I can get. And while we're on the subject of healthcare…" Adam pointed at the medical scanner. "Wasn't this monitoring her vitals? Shouldn't the nurses have been alerted the moment her heart stopped?"

Euri simply walked up to the machine and turned it on. It kept on beeping, signaling a rhythm that was no longer there.

"Hacked," Adam concluded. "Inside job?"

"Maybe, maybe not," Euri answered as she silenced the machine. "The machine does have a data jack for updates and maintenance, but it is also linked up to the local network. I have a tech at their server room looking over the logs."

"Let me know when he finds something."

"Will do. Is there anything else?"

"Got anything off the floor?"

"Just bootprints. It was difficult finding the residue on the cold, self-sanitizing metal floor (the blood didn't help) but I managed to stop the auto-cleaner in time."

"Anything out of the ordinary?"

Euri brought out several 2D holographs of shoe prints. "Not really…mostly nurse's clogs. There's a few prints of a marine's boots, men's size…" she winced. "…eleven? Confirmed to belong to Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko of the Alliance Marine Corps. He was the visitor that found the body and alerted the staff."

Adam quickly scanned the shoe prints with his eyes: most of them were partial and incomplete, but two sets of the marine boots' prints were complete and clear…and one was a bit smaller than the other. He pointed at it.

"I'm pretty sure this set of boot prints is ten and a half. We've got someone else in the crime scene, looks like."

Euri was a little flustered, and then realized her mistake. "Goddess! Thanks! I can't make sense of your human measuring systems! Your Canadians say it is eleven, your Chinese call it twenty-six...Can't you just go by metrics?"

"Right. Honest mistake." Adam tried not to sound too condescending.

"Mistakes like this can ruin a case, Jensen. You know that." Euri sighed and promptly reorganized the holographs.

"Where did you find those size tens?"

"There," she said, pointing at the spot. "Right by the left hand side of the bed."

Adam walked over to the spot and briefly put himself in the killer's place. Yes, definitely the right spot to plunge a knife into someone's heart.

"So, our killer is likely an Alliance Marine," said Adam.

"Or an Alliance fanboy," commented Euri.

"Either way, this was definitely personal. A good hitman knows how to make a kill look like an accident. Pretty good opportunity for that here: Victim's got a severe medical condition. Just stop the IV from giving her the enzyme and wait as her Eezo nodes do the rest of the work. We dismiss it as an accident. Case Closed. But then our killer ignores that and goes for a knife kill?" Adam pointed at the blade stuck in Shepard's chest. "And then leaves the weapon _in_ the body?"

"You're assuming a hitman did this. Could just be a nutcase."

"Then we've got a meticulous nutcase. I saw her alive at the presidium some eight hours ago. During that time, our killer found out about her medical condition, where she was going to get her treatment, potentially did a hack job on the hospital's network, and got into this room without anyone noticing. That takes planning. Professional planning."

"And hacker support."

"That too. I think I've got what I need here." Adam activated his Omni-tool. "Give me what you've got so far."

Euri complied, and a radial progress bar appeared between their Omni tools. "I'm almost done here. I'll have the body transferred to the morgue soon." Her Omni beeped, signaling a complete upload.

"Right, let me know if you find anything else."

**~[_h_+]~**

Ashley Williams was standing next to Lieutenant Alenko in the patient lounge, unsure as to what to do…even though she knew she should. When her father passed away, her whole family had come together in mourning. She had given a shoulder to cry on to Sarah and Mom, an attentive ear to Lynn, and a hug for Abby. When it came time for the burial, she recited _Ulysses_ aloud, and every year since then, Ashley had _Ulysses._ It's how the Williams had overcome their grief.

And yet, she couldn't bring herself to comfort the lieutenant. She could see he was crushed, slumped on the red corner couch looking more silently devastated than any soldier ought to be for his CO…which made things all the more awkward for her. It didn't help that she knew him for a grand total of two days. Likewise for Shepard. How do you approach someone in grief when you barely know them?

_You owe them both your life,_ she reminded herself. _Try._

She walked over and laid an armored hand on his shoulder. "LT?" she asked. He barely reacted. "…I know what you're going though."

Alenko didn't say anything.

"…I don't know how close you and the commander were…"

Still nothing.

"…but if you need someone to talk to…I'm right here, you know?"

Again, nothing. _Dammit, I'm not a grief counselor, _she though._ I just shoot things. _She nodded, and then proceeded to maintain a respectable distance from the Lieutenant. Minutes passed. Then:

"We were going to get married," said Alenko, more to himself than Ashley. As he said this, she could hear the door behind her hiss. Ashley took a quick glance behind her. Blue Coat. Ballistic Jacket. Shades. Poorly maintained pointy short boxed beard. _Aw, crap._

Kaidan continued: "We did our best to keep the relationship a secret. Regulations and all that. After Torfan she decided that 'life was too short to wait'. And then she gave me this." He fondled his silver engagement ring.

"Interesting," said Adam Jensen as he approached the two marines. "That's one question off the list."

**~[_h_+]~**

_**CODEX ENTRY: Neuropozyne**_

_Neuropozyne, or Nu-poz, is a compound that prevents and cleans up the buildup of glial nerve tissue around the nerve/electrode junctions required for mechanical prostheses and biotic implants to function in humans. Without Neuropozyne, the "nerve scarring" would eventually disrupt the connection between implant and implantee, causing a painful rejection syndrome._

_Before the Collapse, Versalife corporation was the only holder of the patent to produce the drug. After the Collapse, samples of the drugs made their way to other biotech firms. Despite the ban on human augmentations, there was still a market for fully functioning prosthetic limbs for amputees. This encouraged research into improving the formula. Today, a single dose of Neuropozyne can stave off rejection syndrome for as long as 3 months. Biotics, however, due to the mutagenic properties of their Eezo nodes, tend to suffer moderate to severe side-effects when taking a dose. Improvements to the formula are being made every day. Research into alternative methods of preventing implant rejection (such as gene therapy, hypoallergenic nerve junctions, or even a completely different compound) is ongoing, but so far no results are forthcoming._

**Author's notes**: Oh man, what did I get myself into? This wasn't supposed to be a murder mystery! But hey, Jensen's a cop, and I had to come up with a plausible way for him to get involved with the main storyline without making him a human Garrus. How will he land in the Normandy? Stay tuned and find out!

My apologies to any Neurobiology and Forensics buffs reading this. I admit that my knowledge of such matters is limited to TV, LA Noire, and whatever I read on Wikipedia. Feel free to point out any glaring errors, I'll correct them.


	4. Chapter 2

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

-Chapter 2-

_**The Shepard Case, Day 1: Aguilar Memorial hospital**_

Ash was staring out the window, admiring the view of the artificial river that ran throughout the presidium's ring while the _cyborg_ harassed the LT with the standard set of cop questions. She stood there, feeling a little self-conscious since she was in full gear, complete with combat hard-suit and PALS webbing. When she had been told that Commander Shepard, the hero Torfan, had been murdered, she handled it about as well as a marine being told "we're under attack!" and prepared accordingly. Anderson had approved, as he himself thought it prudent to wear a personal shield. Much to her disappointment, he drew the line at assault rifles and grenades. "We're not starting a war," he had said. "Pistols only. That's an order, Chief."

_Saren started a fucking war, _Ash thought to herself as she watched hovercars fly above the bridge-like building she was standing in. _And God Willing, I'll be there to finish it. _

And then her ears perked up. The LT was getting a bit agitated.

"What are you trying to say?" the Lieutenant asked, and edge to his voice.

"Just answer the question," said the cop.

"_I didn't kill my fiancée,_"Alenko insisted, angrily.

Was Jensen trying to start something? Ash's training kicked in, and she sized him up for a fight. She was fairly confident she could take him…but she remembered just how extensively augmented he was. Too many unknowns…although she was fairly confident a bullet to the head would kill him, augmented or not. She thought about deploying her helmet to bring up her HUD and get a scan on his ballistic vest's shields… but the noise might have alerted him.

Ash shook her head.

_Stop that._

She had to remind herself that she wasn't in a battlefield. Again. Meanwhile, detective Jensen continued:

"Right, but was she _still_ your fiancée?" Jensen pressed on.

"Of course she was!"

"Really? Then why didn't she have her ring on? And a bouquet of real, all-natural imported flowers? From where I'm standing, it looks like the wedding was off."

Kaidan was surprised, then incredulous. "What flowers?"

"Cherry Blossoms. There's a bouquet of them on the commode in Shepard's room. I assume you bought them?"

"Well you assumed wrong!" Alenko stood up, angry. "If we _were _fighting, flowers wouldn't be the way I'd make peace! She hated the things!"

"And the ring?"

"I don't know! Maybe one of the med techs took it off for some reason or…or some jackass stole it!"

Jensen said nothing as he looked intently at Alenko's face. Ash, from where she was standing, could swear he was sizing Alenko up…but not for a fight.

"Alright," Jensen finally said. "I believe you." At this, Kaidan began to calm down.

"Look, are you sure? You…didn't find her ring in her room? At all?"

"The forensics tech took a complete inventory of the room, personal effects locker included. It's not on the list. I'm sorry."

"Did the killer steal it?"

"…It's possible. You're certain she had it on when you left her?

"Definitely.'

"Is Shepard's ring a match for yours? Similar engravings, same brand?"

"Yes. There's even a matching microscopic barcode and serial number on the inside."

"I'm going to need a scan of your ring, if you don't mind." Jensen's Omni flared up, and after a few beeps. The scan was done. "Do you have a permanent address on the Citadel?"

Kaidan jut shook his head.

"Then I'm also going to have to ask you to stay in the Citadel and keep in touch with C-Sec."

"I guess we're done?"

"For now, yes," answered Adam as he turned and made his way to the elevator.

**~[_h_+]~**

"What an asshole." Adam heard the soldier say to Alenko in a hushed tone. Adam smirked a bit: few knew his hearing was augmented with cochlear implants.

"He was just doing his job, Chief." Alenko answered.

"He doesn't even check out your alibi and then accuses you of killing the Commander? That's a dick move if I ever saw one."

"He didn't accuse me of anything. I…" Kaidan sighed. "…I just jumped the gun on that one."

Adam didn't like it, but he did manipulate Alenko with that one. Adam's CASIE wasn't getting too much out of the lieutenant between an emotional baseline of "depressed" and his avoidance of eye contact. A release of pheromones and an implied accusation of theft shot the readings up, and the micro-expression scans were able to tell Adam this much: Kaidan Alenko didn't steal his wife's ring and was certain that she had it on when he left her, and he didn't bring her those flowers.

_That gives me two potential leads to follow: Someone had pried that ring off Shepard's finger just as she was going cold. The killer likes trophies? Maybe, maybe not. Could be an opportunistic thief in the hospital staff. Still, might be worth checking out that pawn shop in Zakera. They never ask for ID, but they have very good memories._

Adam pressed the elevator button.

_And then there are the flowers. If what Alenko told me is true, nobody that knew Shepard would get her flowers as a "get well" present. Could be from a new acquaintance. Could be from the killer. Insult? Calling card? Symbolic message? All possible. I need more info._

The doors opened_,_ and a couple of medical techs walked out of the very spacious elevator. Adam got in, pressed the main floor's button and activated his Omni to review the forensics files he had just downloaded from Euridycia. He conjured up the bouquet of cherry blossoms on his holographic display, and several small windows sprang up, orbiting the 3d image. They detailed the genetic make-up of the flowers (which made them genuine), their mass and volume and other, more arcane streams of data in walls of text that barely made any sense to Adam. He sighed: he regretted not being into the whole science thing, sometimes. Still, he understood one thing: there were no prints, not on the petals, not on the branches, and not even on the non-descript paper used to wrap them together. There weren't even any traces of DNA from skin flakes. Someone had been needlessly careful with the whole bouquet.

_Either we're dealing with a florist with obsessive compulsive behavior disorder or the one who dropped in the bouquet didn't want to be found. _

Adam felt the elevator stop and soon afterwards, the doors slid open. He got out into main lobby, his nose still in his omni's holographs. Curious about the symbolic angle to the flowers (if any), Adam booted up his Codex and ran a search on Cherry Blossoms. A wall of text and a couple of hyperlinks, Adam had learned quite a bit from the flower itself, its cultivation, its culinary applications, and some Japanese concept of appreciating the beauty of things in their impermanence (something the flower apparently symbolized). He was about to familiarize himself with four variants of the _Prunus _genus of trees before he reminded himself that there just wasn't enough time for a wiki-walk. There was a killer to catch.

Also, he was just standing there, and people were beginning to stare. A C-sec sentry posted near the elevator included.

"Jensen?" asked the Turian officer. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Adam answered, a little embarrassed. He started towards the exit.

_Impermanence. Beauty. Some kind of sick fetish for killing beautiful young women before they got old? A message? A taunt? Shepard was of Japanese descent: if anyone knew what the flowers were supposed to represent, it would have been her (assuming she kept up with her cultural origins). Then again, she's dead, so what's the point?_

There was, interestingly, another fact about cherry blossoms that caught Adam's attention: They were much rarer on earth than he had previously thought. Because to ecological damage on Earth due to the nuclear conflicts that erupted shortly after the Collapse, the only places where Cherry Blossoms still bloomed on Earth were the Botanical Gardens in Montreal and Queen Elizabeth Park in Vancouver. Up until 2170, Mindoir cultivated Hill Cherrytrees as part of an experiment. Only one remained there, serving as a memorial.

If anything proved that the flowers were significant, if not to this case, that was it: importing common flowers was expensive due to the costs of keeping them fresh while they sit for days or even weeks in a warehouse while they're being processed in customs (not to mention the costs of shipping). Florists that import their goods have to charge quite a sum for their wares to make a profit.

_But rare flowers that decay in no time at all? The costs of importing would be enormous! Who would bother to pay?_

To answer his question, Adam started a C-web search for any flower shop that sold cherry blossoms. He didn't think he'd have a big list: anyone that dealt in rare imported flowers would be rich enough to set up in the Presidium, where the rich clientele that could afford it would be. Small market, that.

As expected, he only got four hits. All of them were for stores which sold plastic replicas of the blossoms. None of them sold the real deal.

_Well, that puts a damper on things._

Before Adam could pursue this further, something caught his attention. A young Alliance marine in his sailor's uniform (complete with a navy blue beret) was arguing with an Asari receptionist. She was far more interested in typing on her computer than listening to his slightly nasal voice, something that was no doubt frustrating him a great deal.

"You must have seen _something_ out of the ordinary," said the marine. He was trying to sound confident, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. Adam smirked a little: he saw this happen all the time when kids barely out of high school tried to talk to a real live Asari for the very first time.

"You see everything coming through that door," said the receptionist, "from hanar with venereal diseases to elcor suffering from bipolar disorder. After a while, it all just kind of blended into my definition of ordinary. So, once again: No, I didn't see anything out of the ordinary."

The marine deflated a bit, but he looked like he wasn't quite ready to give up. "Well, did you see anyone that looked like a killer, or out to kill someone?"

_Is this kid for real?_

Not even looking up from her laptop, the receptionist shot back. "You know the funny thing is about killers? I hear they look just like you and me! If they didn't, we wouldn't need the police to find them and put them away, now would we?"

Adam had to agree.

The receptionist's vidphone rang. A quick glance at it, and she fingered her headset.

"Look, Lieutenant, I have to take this. Unless you have a medical emergency or an appointment, I can't help you."

The marine was indignant. "Hey! Don't shut me out!" he demanded. Of course, she already had and was greeting the caller with practiced courtesy. "Aguilar Memorial Hospital, how may I help you?" she said, completely ignoring the young marine. Adam thought it wise to get the kid's attention before he did something stupid and/or embarrassing. He walked besides the young marine and cleared his throat.

"Is there a problem here?"

**~[_h_+]~**

Corporal Richard L Jenkins, Alliance Marine, turned to his right in the direction of a smoker's voice, to find himself face to face with a tall human in a blue leather longcoat (were those flowers printed on the shoulders?) staring down at him from behind dark, golden mirror shades that seemed glued to his skin. He was imposing: broad shouldered and easily fifteen centimeters taller than Jenkins himself. Jenkins hated to admit, but he was feeling a little intimidated.

Damned if he was going to show it, though. He had survived Eden Prime and fought cyber zombies and killer robots. He wasn't going to be spooked by some basketball player in a candy-ass looking coat! He had a mission to accomplish!

"Alliance business. Nothing that should concern you, citizen." Jenkins had put on his best 'Gallant Soldier' impression. Now, the guy would move along and…

"Oh?" exclaimed the man. "I hope it's nothing too serious, Mister…?"

_He's not buying it. Quick! Sound impressive and authoritative!_

"I'm Lieutenant Richard…B. Riddick."

_Don't look at my chevrons don't look at my chevrons_

'Riddick' continued: "I'm here to investigate the death of a fellow Alliance Marine."

_That ought to scare him a little._

The bespectacled man didn't flinch, not even a little. "Ah, so that's what the commotion on the bridge section was about! But I thought C-Sec was already taking care of that?"

'Riddick' snorted, his utter contempt for the glorified mall cops all too apparent. "Oh, this is way out of C-Sec's league." He took a quick, nervous glance towards the hospital's entrance: Captain Anderson and Senator Udina were still arguing outside.

"…Is that so?"

"Yeah, our prime suspect, Saren Arterius? The guy behind the attack Eden Prime? Well, he's our main suspect in this case. But the Council wanted _C-Sec_ to dig up evidence against him, and since they're too damn stupid to pour pee they botched the investigation and now the rest of the Spectres won't move against him. Heh, big surprise, right?"

"Right, so…Now the Alliance has taken it on itself to bring Saren to Justice, is that it?"

"Exactly. Now, if you'll please move along? This woman _definitely_ knows more than she lets on." And with that, Lieutenant Richard B. Riddick dismissed the man and got back to his mission.

Then, Corporal Richard L. Jenkins felt an iron grip on his right shoulder and he was spun, finding himself suddenly stared down at by a pair of yellow-green, metallic eyes. The pain in his shoulder made him wince. The stare made him gulp a little.

"Can I just say a few things?" said the tall man. "First, two chevrons on your shoulder doesn't make you a Lieutenant, _Corporal._ Second, I saw those movies too, _Vin._ Third, I'm guessing that the man in the officer's uniform talking to Udina just outside is your superior and that he hasn't got an inkling as to your so-called _mission_. And fourth…

The man parted his coat with his right hand, revealing a silvery C-Sec detective's badge.

"Citadel Law is pretty clear on unauthorized civilian and military interference in C-Sec investigations, regardless of intent to assist or hinder. Penalty's a four hundred thousand credit fine and 3 days in jail. You'll be in great company: over the past week we busted a Krogan arms dealer, a crazed biotic junkie responsible for exposing the Shao Yong building to the black, and Matriarch Eneles. You'll like her. Well, maybe not, but she'll definitely like you. She's got this thing for wearing fine _human skin_."

And with that, the detective let Jenkins go.

"Is there a problem here?" asked Captain Anderson. Jenkins was relieved, then remembered protocol and quickly saluted.

The detective answered quickly. "The corporal here falsely claimed to be an Alliance Military CO tasked with investigating a murder under C-sec jurisdiction. I'm not one hundred percent familiar with Alliance military regs but I'm sure they don't look kindly on a grunt pretending to be an lieutenant and harassing civilians under false pretenses…"

Anderson cast a withering glare at Jenkins, who stammered: "I-I was just trying to help! Find enough intel to catch the killer!"

"So you don't deny it?" asked the Captain.

"Well…no?"

"Son?" asked Anderson, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Are you or have even been an MP? Have you had any law enforcement training of any kind?"

"…No sir."

Udina walked up behind Anderson at that very moment. "Now, now, he may not have been an MP but surely such a clever young man such as this must be well on his way to joining the JAG? To help C-Sec with Alliance legal issues, surely?"

"No sir…I'm not…I'm not with JAG." Jenkins was utterly crushed. Only now was he beginning to realize just how out of his depth he was, and what a fool he had made of himself.

"_Wonderful_," Udina's voice was dripping with scorn. "Anderson, would you like to take care of this or should we let the detective take corporal Jenkins to his 'accommodations' for the night?"

**~[_h_+]~**

"I'll take care of this," stated Anderson with a cold edge of anger to his voice. "Corporal, come with me."

"Good," said Udina. "Detective Jensen, if I could have a word with you?"

With Jenkins in tow, Anderson made his way towards the elevator.

"Jenkins, what part of 'stay with lieutenant Alenko' did you not understand?"

"I err, I understood clearly, sir."

"Did the lieutenant dismiss you?"

"No, sir."

"Then why did you disobey my order?" the captain asked as they reached the elevator. He pressed the call button.

"Well-"

"And did some Admiral come in out of the blue and give you a field promotion, corporal? Or is it _lieutenant?_"

Jenkins was about to say something, but Anderson wasn't quite done.

"Do you know how severely the brass punishes grunts that impersonate officers? We're not just talking about a few days in the brig, here. You're looking at a permanent black mark on your record! You'll be on shit list of every commander in the fleet! You'll be lucky to even hold a gun ever again instead of a _mop_."

To Anderson's surprise, Jenkins suddenly grew his spine back: "I don't mind holding a mop for the rest of my life if it means helping catching Saren, sir!"

"And how in the hell did you plan to accomplish that from the comfort of a C-sec cell?"

"I don't know! I didn't think that far ahead but-"

"-but what, corporal?"

"Shepard's dead, sir! Dead!"

Anderson had been told. He had been told when he woke up this morning from the mouth of Udina just this morning. He heard it from Kaidan, who confirmed seeing the body over the phone. And hearing for a third time from Jenkins did little to blunt the shock of it.

"You should have seen her on Eden Prime," Jenkins continued. "When those Geth scout drones came out of nowhere and she was caught in the open, I thought it was over! But then she conjures up a wall of blue fire held together by will and rage and she practically _dared_ everything and everyone to try and kill her. Geth Troopers, Rocket Drones, those…things from the spikes? Nothing stopped her, Nothing! Everything that stood in her way died! She survived that, she survived Torfan, she survived Mindoir! If anyone could have brought Saren to justice, it would have been her! No one else!"

Jenkins tried to hold back his tears, but was failing.

"And now she's dead! Th-they put th-that _poison _in her and then someone just sticks a knife in her heart while she sleeps? I-I can't accept that, sir! I can't! I have to do something!" Jenkins started to weep. "Anything! I have to make this-" he whimpered. "I have to make this right!"

Anderson knew exactly what Jenkins was going through. Had expected it, in fact. Young, talented soldiers still maintained the delusion of invincibility and suicidal overconfidence of their teenage years. That delusion was often shattered by a healthy dose of the reality of war, and contrary to what the vids liked to portray, war was not glorious. At best it was organized slaughter. At worst it was guts, screaming and all kinds of disturbing behavior. Eden Prime wasn't the worst, but it was close.

But, as Shepard put it: "That boy is such a puppy! He hangs on to my every word like it was gospel and follows me around whenever he's awake! It's _adorable_."

As a child, Jenkins had lost his father to disease, a factor in his intense desire for a mentor and hero figure both, and he had quickly latched on to Shepard as such. It was a role she was, to Anderson's surprise, quite willing fulfill. Anderson was concerned, however, when the young marine quickly revealed to have a somewhat unrealistic and black and white worldview built up by being virtually raised on cartoons. When Saren had taken on the role of the Bad Guy, Jenkins spirits had gone up immensely: Shepard would fight Saren. She would win. The Bad Guy would die, and all would be right in the galaxy. After seeing his home burn, Jenkins was quite happy the idea of being at her side when she inevitably won.

Eden Prime had been a loss. It could have been so much worse, but it hadn't been like a victory (as Jenkins would have defined it). Eden Prime had wounded Jenkins' confidence, and Shepard's death had turned his world upside down: the Hero died. The Bad Guy won. There was no glorious battle. Only a massacre, burnt fields, shattered homes, and a cheap murder. Nothing would ever be the same for Jenkins.

"Am I suspended, sir?"

"…I won't report this to the brass, son. I understand why you did it, and I'm glad you didn't do anything rash. But Jenkins? Remember what Shepard said?"

"…You're not alone in this."

"That's right, son." Anderson put his hand on Jenkin's shoulder. You're not alone in this. You didn't have to go off on your own like that. And we're not taking this lying down, I promise you. Sooner or later we ARE going after Saren, and when we do you're going to be there. Alenko will be there. And God willing, I'm going to be there too. That's a promise." It was what Jenkins needed to hear, and relief had washed over the young marine quickly.

Of course, he couldn't quite leave Jenkins' lack of common sense unpunished, he would order him back on the ship and-

Ding.

The elevator doors opened. Inside it were four occupants: Lieutenant Alenko, Gunnery Chief Williams, an Asari forensics tech and a Turian C-Sec officer. They were surrounding a morgue slab. On the slab was something in the shape of a body, covered in a white sheet.

Anderson could vaguely hear the tech apologize, that they were headed down to the morgue. The chief saluted quietly. The lieutenant said nothing.

Anderson approached the slab; his ears dull to noise and voice. He reached out to the shape, where the head ought to be. He thought he heard the tech protest, but he didn't care. He pulled the sheet back, revealing the cold, pale face of Shepard.

Shepard was dead. He had been told. Now he saw.

For a moment, he was back on Mindoir. He was back in that greenhouse. That teenage girl with the knife, sitting in a corner in a fetal position, her lightly freckled face covered by her knees. _Make them pay._ Two dead batarians lay nearby. Their eyes were stabbed out, their guts were spilled. A turian corpse was outside, his chest caved in, his skin riddled with shards of glass. All three died in agony.

Her clothes were ripped. _Make them pay._

_Make them pay. _She was rocking back and forth. _Make them pay, _she said. Over and over and over again. Like a mantra. A prayer.

_Make them pay._

He put down his gun. He removed his helmet. "Easy there," he had reassured her. "It's okay. It's over."

He barely registered to her: "I have to make them pay."

"I know, sweetheart. But it's over. They're all dead." He reached out to her. "Here, take my hand…"

"You can't help me. I have to make them pay. They _all_ deserve to _pay_."

"Sir?" Jenkins prodded, and Anderson mind was back in the elevator, looking at Shepard, and her blank, dead stare. He reached out. _Don't tamper with the body_, his mind had told him, but he couldn't resist the urge to restore some semblance of his former pupil's dignity. The tech protested. He didn't care. He gently closed Shepard's eyes, and Jenkins respectfully removed his beret. Kaidan simply watched.

_Soak it in, _Anderson told himself. _Remember that Saren is responsible for this. And it's your calling to put a bullet in his skull and end his miserable shit stain of a life._

"We will make him pay, Jun."

**~[_h_+]~**

_**CODEX ENTRY: CASIE ver 2.3**_

_The **CASIE**, or **C**omputer **A**ssisted **S**ocial **I**nteraction **E**nhancer, was a cranial implant that made use of the user's vision and hearing to analyze another human being for the purpose of social interaction, providing useful data about their personality in order to better psychologically and emotionally manipulate them. Upgrades to the system include a pheromone emitting system._

_In 2028, the 2.3 update supported micro expression detection, granting the user the ability to detect deception during high stakes negotiations or interrogations. This made the CASIE extremely invaluable to police enforcement and diplomats, but also to kidnappers and conmen. The device was heavily regulated shortly after its release to the public market. By 2052, only law enforcement and counter-intelligence agencies could legally have their agents implanted with the augmentation._

_After the Collapse, the CASIE implant was succeeded by the VK series of scanners. The whole device can be stored in a small suitcase, but a warrant is required for it to be used in police interrogations._

_**Author's notes. **I was planning on making this chapter longer, but then I decided that this was a pretty good point to stop for now. Plus, it took me way too long to write this. I hate to say it, but this was incredibly difficult to write. My head keeps moving ahead in the story, and I couldn't focus on the "here and now" of his chapter. I dream of cyborg kung-fu action and gunfights and epic duels, but none of that belongs in this chapter. _

_Well, here we've had a look into Adam's thought processes. Youtube critics of the Human Revolution storyline have pointed out Adam's leaps of logic that advanced the plot, and while I can't argue that they're wrong, I like to think that Adam thinks a little unconventionally. I mean, really? Flowers? Come on. Here he also demonstrates that he has little patience for idiots getting in his way._

_Oh yeah, Jenkins' alive. Why? I never really liked it when the game took control away from me just to service drama. Shepard's such a badass but s/he sends the grunt in forward to be cannon fodder? Would a Vanguard do that? I personally don't think so. Sure, it's probably military protocol, but still… _

_Jenkins also serves as a personification of the emotional and psychological repercussions of Shepard's death from the perspective of, say, a fan, along with Anderson's fatherly perspective.. Kaidan is just too stoic for the job and Ashley barely knew the woman._

_Oh, and speaking of military protocol, I actually have no idea what the real-life punishment is for a NCO pretending to be a CO, but I imagine it would be more severe than depicted here._


	5. Chapter 3

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

-Chapter 3-

Adam Jensen loathed Donnel Udina. Likewise, Udina loathed Adam. The reason was simple: he was the only C-Sec officer the Ambassador had no real pull over. Admission into C-Sec was a bit more prestigious than most people were aware of. Besides requiring years of service in either the military or a planet's police force, applicants needed to be sponsored by a Citadel Councilor or, barring that, the ambassador of an associate Council race. That meant that if you were human and you wanted to be in C-Sec, you had to go through Udina, and Udina was no philanthropist. If you were human, and you made it into C-Sec, it meant you scratched Udina's back, and if you were in trouble, he would definitely scratch yours to keep face.

Adam had been an unforeseen anomaly: after C-Sec had contracted Adam to take down the Seven, Executor Pallin himself had offered him a position into the ranks of C-Sec upon his success, bypassing Udina completely. The Ambassador took umbrage at that, shouting at the Executor that Adam was a pariah on earth and that accepting him was an insult against all of humankind.

Pallin, of course, didn't give a damn about what Udina or all of planet Earth had to say about the cyborg. Adam had been instrumental in stopping a gang of up-and-coming young terrorists: thousands of lives had been saved. The next day, Officer Adam Jensen put on his C-Sec blues and began patrolling the Presidium.

Udina and Jensen had silently agreed to stay out of each other's way, and both were glad when Adam's trial period on the Presidium had come to an end. Sadly for Udina, Adam had been partnered with Officer Harkin.

Harkin was, in the most polite terms, a disgrace of a human being. Adam wondered how the twenty year veteran had ever managed to get in the force: maybe he had been a decent person once upon a time.

Maybe.

And then Adam found out about the politics behind Harkin's long career, he had tried to stay out of it. Nothing good ever came out of meddling with politics. Besides, Adam was hardly a saint.

And then Harkin stole some Red Sand from the evidence room, destroying a case against a pimp.

And then Adam got mad.

Four days later, Harkin was out of the force. There had been enough evidence of corruption against him to put him away for a long time, and Udina, ever obsessed with keeping humanity's reputation clean, called in every favor he could and every pulled every string he had to control the damage. When it was over, Harkin was out on the streets and on probation. He vanished in the wards soon after, never to be seen again.

That had been six years ago. Udina never forgave Adam for the political embarrassment, and Adam never forgave Udina for letting Harkin just fade away.

And now, here there were, face to face.

"Jensen. Pallin told me he was putting his best man on the job. I suppose you're covering for him?"

"Come on, Udina, you can do better than that."

"I think Pallin can do much better than you." Udina shot back, smugly. "Do you understand exactly what has just happened?"

"A woman was just murdered, and I intend to-"

"-As I thought, you do not understand. Shepard was more than just a woman. Including Torfan, she had overcome three of the greatest military operations in Alliance history! She was a legend in the making: humanity's champion. And if you and Vakarian had done your jobs she'd be alive to make galactic history."

"Our jobs? You mean Saren? We don't know that Saren did this."

"This is the kind of short-sightedness that let him get away with mass murder!"

"It wasn't short-sightedness, it was Council hamstringing. You may not have heard, but the Powers that Be? They don't like it when people sniff around their golden boys' dirty laundry. And the Spectres? Once they knew I was on the case, they started sabotaging the investigation every step of the way."

"That wouldn't have happened if you had been more discreet!"

"Discreet? I was plenty discreet. You want to talk about discretion? Let's talk about you: that public accusation pretty much alerted Saren and his friends to start covering tracks. Oh, and on subject of short-sightedness, who agreed with the Council that two days was a reasonable amount of time for C-Sec to investigate a massacre on a planet exactly two days' travel from here? Gee, I wonder."

Udina cursed himself: he had been less than discreet, but it's not like he had much of a choice. With the exception of the most severe of crisis, the Council insisted on conducting nearly all of their business at the top of the Presidium Tower, an arena far too public for Udina's tastes when one accused a Spectre of the murder of thousands of innocent people. Udina had tried more private channels to make his accusation, but the Council was adamant about protocol: whatever you have to say to us, you'll say it in front of everyone else.

And two days had seemed like a reasonable deadline at the time. Of course, Udina hadn't quite traveled the galaxy long enough to be familiar with travel times. Trips in Alliance space took hours, not days, and he figured a trip to Eden Prime would take no more than a half a Galactic Standard day. He had been wrong.

Of course, Udina being a politician, he couldn't admit it. "I think we've gone off track, here," he said. "I wanted to talk to you about this case."

"Right. I'll say it plainly: I haven't found anything that implicates Saren with the murder in any way whatsoever."

"Oh please, who else could be behind it?"

"I don't know. Although I do hear Shepard was pretty popular with the pirates and slavers of the Terminus systems. And the Batarian Hegemony, by extension."

"Then may I ask what evidence you have found so far?"

"None that I'd care to share with you right now…or ever, for that matter."

"You soon won't have a choice. I've already begun the legal process for Alliance Intel to take over this investigation."

Adam processed what Udina had just dropped on him, and then spoke. "Did I not just warn the corporal earlier about interfering with C-Sec investigations? You realize the sentencing for that scales up with severity, right?"

"You did and I do. The young marine might have been…premature, but the fact is once the AI Operative gets here, warrant in hand, you'll have little choice but to follow his every command."

"…You're bluffing. The Council wouldn't let Alliance spooks in the Citadel, not with that kind of authority."

Udina was starting to get smug. "Usually no, but they are allowed to take over C-Sec investigations when an Alliance VIP has come to harm. An Alliance soldier murdered on the Citadel fulfills that criterion. Just thought I would give you fair warning."

Adam was smoldering on the inside: having dealt with Spectres before, he had little tolerance for smug hotshots that swooped in and took over a case with little justification beyond "because we can".

Udina started towards the elevator, but stopped. "One more thing, Jensen. Allow me to give you some proper motivation: Humanity is watching. If you turn out to be a benefit to this case, I just might be able to convince the right people to let you come back on Earth."

"I left Earth. Not looking to come back."

Udina ignored him. "But if you turn out to be a hindrance, if Shepard's killer gets away because of you, I will make sure everyone knows it."

Udina leaned in close. With a lower, more menacing edge to his voice, he added:

"Do NOT fuck this up."

And with that, Udina left for the elevator.

"Damn," said the receptionist. "And I thought my day sucked."

Adam turned to the Asari: she had apparently finished her call and something on her laptop required her to wait for a progress bar to finish. "Heard all that?" Adam asked.

"Pretty much."

Ah, Udina. Master of discretion. Adam tried to steer the conversation away from his earlier chat with the ambassador. "Well, my day is just getting started. There's hope for me yet," he said with a slight smile.

"Not likely," the receptionist started rubbing her eyes. "Everyone's day is pretty much ruined. I swear, one dead human and everyone acts like the whole galaxy is going to- hold on." She stretched her arms and yawned. "Sorry. Been here a while."

"Working overtime?"

"Like I have a choice. I started my shift 13 hours ago. I was supposed to get relieved 4 hours ago, but then my backup calls in sick. Then her backup calls in sick. And then half the human staff does, too." She laughed bitterly. "Aw, I can't exactly blame them. After Matriarch Eneles and…what was that hanar psycho's name?"

"Cylenander," Adam supplied. He winced: the name brought back unpleasant memories.

"Yeah, him. Well, after two sprees of racially motivated murders, it looks like we're up for a third. Makes every human on the Citadel a little nervous. I should know: I've had to reschedule a lot of appointments today, all human."

"So you were here when Shepard was killed?"

"Well…yes?"

"I hate to add to your troubles, but…"

"Aw, damnit. You want to ask me questions."

"Just a few, yes."

"All I can tell you is what I told the 'lieutenant' – thanks for getting rid of her, by the by."

"You're welcome."

_Wait, did she just call him a girl?_

"Right, well, as I just told her: No I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. Too many people come through here at once, and no shortage of weird, either."

And, Adam realized, there was no real guarantee the killer came through the front door. Still, he would have had to go through that elevator to get to the bridge section of the hospital…

"Did you see anyone carrying a bouquet of flowers?"

The receptionist snorted. "Yeah, that doesn't narrow it down all that much."

Adam activated his Omni-tool, conjuring up a hologram of the bouquet found in Shepard's room. "How about these?"

The receptionist took a glance at the holographic flowers, and then did a double take. "Huh. Now that you mention it…yeah, I saw a human carrying a bouquet of those. I definitely remember it…mostly because I had never seen them before.

"Did you have a good look at the person carrying it?"

"Definitely. She even asked me for directions, asked for the bridge sect-" her eyes widened, as she realized exactly who she spoke to. "-oh, Goddess! You don't think-"

"-She? It was a woman?"

"A wo- oh, you mean a human female? I think so. Males are the ones with the fur on the face, right? She didn't have any."

"Well, there are plenty of human males who shave their facial hair off."

"Oh. Oh. Well, it might have been a male…I'm sorry, I've only lived on the Citadel for two years, and for us Asari that's not long enough to acclimate to the subtleties between human genders."

"If you're not sure, why did you call her a she?"

The receptionist looked puzzled. Adam realized that she must have been using a gender neutral Asari dialect. 'He' and 'She' probably translated to the same thing for her, and whatever pronoun she used came out 'she' by default on his translator.

"Never mind," Adam said. "Translator error. Besides the lack of facial hair, did she look like me? Bigger than your average Asari? Broader shoulders? Straight waist?" Adam paused, thinking. Then he added: "Flat chest?"

"…Yes, on all counts. Except she was a bit shorter than you. Yes, definitely shorter. Huh, so that's what makes a human male? I think I owe Robert an apology…"

So, human male. That had taken a bit too long to establish, in Adam's opinion. He mentally cursed his translator.

"Focus, please. Can you describe the man you saw?"

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, as if trying to concentrate. "She was wearing…beige pants, loose ones, with lots of large pockets on it…and a dark brown leather jacket with a hood."

"Can you describe his face?"

"Had your skin tone, maybe a bit paler? She was wearing black shades, so I can't tell you what her eyes looked like..."

"Do you remember when you saw him?"

"It was… I'm sorry, I can't give you a proper estimate, and I wasn't looking at my watch. I think I was halfway through my shift?"

"Is that all you can tell me?"

"I'm afraid so…will that be enough?"

"It'll have to be." Adam asked the receptionist her contact info as per protocol, and left the hospital. He had a few leads to pursue.

**~[h+]~**

Adam sat down in the driver's seat of his Spinner hovercar and closed the canopy, shutting out the noise from the outside. He welcomed the calm and quiet, and savored the smell of artificial leather, cleansing the persistent reek of antibacterial foam (with a slight hint of piss) from his nostrils. He pressed a button on his dashboard, summoning a map of the citadel, and set his destination for Upper Zakera. Traffic was light at the moment, so he decided to let the auto-pilot do the flying.

Of course, Adam couldn't very well do nothing while he waited, so he vid-called Euridycia on his Omni-tool. After a few ringtones, she answered.

"Adam? Something you need?"

"Yeah, I just spoke with the receptionist. We might have a suspect: walked through the front door with a bouquet of blossoms and asked her for directions."

"Right through the front door? I would've thought the killer would've sneaked from a backdoor or something."

"Didn't need to, it's not like going into a hospital is suspicious in and out of itself."

"Good point."

"In any case, can you put me in contact with the tech looking over the hospital's security?"

"Sure, let me set up a secure conference."

As Adam waited for the encryption and various other C-sec security measures to load, he overheard some background noise on Euridycia's channel. Two voices were apparently arguing nearby.

"Euridycia? What's going on?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm in the hospital's morgue right now, setting up the victim's body for the freezer. Apparently her commander and Udina are arguing over how to handle her remains. Udina wants her preserved for Alliance Intelligence, and the Alliance marines don't seem too happy about it."

"Is this about Shepard's graybox?"

"Probably. Looks like we won't be able to touch it once those Alliance spooks get here."

Adam was about to curse under his breath when his Omni-tool beeped and a second vid window appeared over his wrist. It was the face of a Salarian in his mid-twenties.

"Nox here."

Euridycia spoke up: "Nox, this is Detective Jensen, he's in charge of this investigation."

Nox nodded. Euridycia continued: "Got anything for him?"

"Nothing right now," answered Nox. "Still looking over the logs, haven't found anything."

"That's okay," said Adam. "I just need you to stream the security footage for the hospital's reception desk on the first floor, around two hours before Shepard's estimated time of death."

The salarian tech complied, and a third window appeared. It was the frozen image taken by a camera with a wide angle lens, apparently placed above and on the left of the reception desk.

"Fast forward," said Adam, "at 12x speed, no frame skipping."

"What are we looking for?" asked Euridycia.

"Human, 'possibly' male, wearing a brown leather jacket with beige cargo pants and military boots."

The image came to life, and six minutes later the three C-sec investigators had seen the two hours of security footage. None of them saw anyone matching the receptionist's desciption. Eurridycia hadn't noticed anything else out of the ordinary, but there was, indeed, something to notice. Between a human with augmented vision and a quick-witted salarian, 12x speed wouldn't hide it.

Adam spoke first, "I saw something at-"

"-time index seventy-two point thirty-eight." Nox interrupted. "Rewinding."

"Right, now play it at normal speed."

"Ah, now i see it," said Euridycia. "The receptionist is talking to herself, there."

Nox zoomed in on the particular clip and set it to repeat. "Slight distortions in front of the desk. Video tampered with." Adam could hear the rapid beeps from Nox's typing. Three other videos came up on Adam's Omni-tool: a shot of the inside of the elevator, a shot the receptions desk on the bridge hospital's bridge section and a shot of a locked door. Nox played each video, highlighting the areas with slight visual distortions. The locked door video didn't have a whole lot, right up until the door opened, and for a split second Adam could see the distorted, pixelated figure of a man entering the room. Shepard's room.

"I think we've got an exact ToD," said Adam.

The video kept playing and the holo lock on the door became red. Adam fast forwarded the video until the door inevitably opened again to let the killer out. The distorted figure appeared again for only a few frames, but Adam could make out his face: He was as the receptionist described, hooded and bespectacled with dark shades. Despite the visual artifacts, Adam could also make out a slightly small mouth and a chiselled jaw.

"And we've got a face." Euridycia smiled. "Good eyes, Jensen."

Before anyone asked, Nox commented: "Distortions due to a Virus with image recognition subroutines designed to edit out a specific person or object from a video file. Not a perfect program: mistakes happen, sudden light from opening doors threw off the subroutines enough for suspect to appear."

"Anything else you can glean from this?" asked Jensen.

"At the moment, no. But now armed with better understanding of hacker's objectives and methods. Should be able to find out more. Thank you, mister Jensen: would have wasted far too much time on my own."

"You're welcome." Adam began backing up the new information. "Let me know if you find anything else."

"Will do. Nox out." and Nox's picture winked out from the comm session.

"Well Jensen," asked Euridycia, "is there anything else I can help you with?"

"Actually, yeah: what are you doing in the hospital's morgue? Forensics didn't send a truck?"

"The main precinct had to send the trucks somewhere else: a duct rat found 23 bodies in one of the underground protein vats in Upper Zakera. From what I've been told, they all had gunshot wounds to their heads."

That was odd and fairly coincidental considering Jensen was headed there. "Was there a shoot out?"

"I haven't heard anything about that. In any case, I'm keeping the victim's body here until they send someone to pick it up."

Adam didn't pursue the matter any further. It wasn't his case. "That's all, Euridycia. Jensen out."

Twelve minutes later, Adam landed his Spinner near Amnon's.

**~[h+]~**

_Amnon's_ was a pawn shop on Upper Zakera's ground level near the tip of the ward. The shop had just about everything you wanted, if you wanted something old and slightly used. Old guns, old clocks, old toys, old cassette players...If it was made in the twentieth or twenty-first century, odds were Amnon had it for sale. That didn't mean Amnon didn't have anything more recent, of course: you can't run a pawn shop in the Citadel without getting your hands on more up-to-date pieces of technology, e-books and vids.

Or, for that matter, some recently stolen jewelery.

Adam opened the door, triggering the door-chime, and walked inside. He was immediately greeted by familiar smell of dust, rust and old oil, as well of the sight of antique clocks, fine pens and fancy mechanical toys all neatly organized and arrayed. Adam smiled: he had a love for old pieces of clockwork ever since he was a kid, and finding this place on the Citadel had been one of the reasons he had accepted Pallin's offer to work for C-Sec instead of having another go at being a farmer.

Amnon Kerensky looked up from his counter at the sound of the bells and, upon seeing Adam with red optics in the shape of crescent moons, opened up his mechanical arms to greet his favourite customer. "Adam!" he exclaimed, his slightly russian-accented voice flanging from a speaker on his dark mask. "Dearest of all my friends! What brings you to my humble shop?"

Adam was about to speak, but Amnon was just getting started: "That clock you fixed for me sold for a very, very pretty penny! Let me give you something to show my appreciation!" He reached under his counter and pulled out an unmarked box of ammo. "Point Three Five Seven Magnums. A box of twenty-four rounds! Tungsten Cores in a steel shell, made just for you!"

"Uh-huh, and how much are these gonna cost me?"

"For you? a mere 1 credit."

Adam whistled. "That's...quite a deal."

"You give me good work, I give you excellent work back...at an unbeatable price. Besides, I also have to show Sasha my love, no? You take good care of Sasha?"

"Yeah," Adam answered with a slight smile as he gave Amnon his credit chit, "I've been taking good care of Sasha." He pocketed the rounds.

"Good! Good! Now, what else can your friend Amnon do for you?"

"I'm looking for an engagement ring..."

"Oh! Have you fallen from our bachelor ranks? You simply must tell me the name of the Lady that has-"

"A _stolen_ ring, Amnon."

"Ah...I see..." Amnon's usual cheery mood deflated quickly. "Adam, my friend, you know I don't fence stolen goods. I own legitimate business!"

"I know you do, Amnon, but we both know your...friends are into things slightly less legit."

Adam activated his Omni-Tool and brought up a hologram of Alenko's ring, along with readouts of the scan.

"This is a scan of the stolen ring's twin."

Amnon tapped the chin of his mask pensively. "Hm, fine craftsmanship there. Finely patterned blend of programmable silver and plati-" And then Amnon went quiet.

"Amnon, are you alri- aw, crap, it's happening again, isn't it?"

A few seconds later, Amnon was a prisoner in his own body, his consciousness having made way for the Citadel Collective of the Omar. Adam loved talking to Amnon, as he always had a good deal or even a piece of junk for him to fiddle with, but talking to the collective consciousness of some three hundred cyborgs was just unsetlling. They always spoke in that high pitched, scratchy, throaty digital voice that grated on the nerves. The first Adam had met an Omar, he had thought he was dealing with an alien. He had been very surprised when he had been told that the cyborgs had in fact originated from Earth.

"This is the work of Argyros," said the Omar.

"Argyros?"

"Asari jewelery consortium. They specialize in the shaping of rare metals for the purposes of self-beautification and mating rituals/contracts. Superior craftmanship standards allow Argyros to sell their wares at ten times the value of the materials used to construct them."

"Well thanks for that, but I'm wondering how that's relevant, here."

"Argyros also drives up its prices by making each set of jewelery they produce unique."

"It's a plain ring. It's as nondescript as you can get."

"You are wrong."

The Omar grabbed at Jensen's hologram and manipulated the image. It enlarged the holographic ring and highlighted an incredibly complex and intricate pattern on the ring's outer surface. The Omar continued: "We are familiar with this item: one of our units works for the Argyros' Citadel branch as a craftsman. Each Argyros jewelery set is the equivalent of a work of art, and difficult to re-sell illegally in Citadel space for this very reason. Even the silver/platinum blending pattern is recognizable and a scan of it is filed in the consortium's archives. Removing the micro-scale serial number engraving would do little to hide its origins...or, with enough research, its rightful owner."

"So in short, it's too hot to sell, few fences would touch it...least of all a pawn shop owner. If they did, they'd be real discreet about it." Adam couldn't hide the disappointment in his voice. He could hope that the killer would slip up and be desperate enough for cash to try and sell it to an Omar, but it wasn't likely. "I'm curious though, how much did that set of rings cost?"

"Two million and five hundred thousand credits."

Adam whistled: Shepard didn't skimp on the fine things in life. The price also made him wonder where she got that kind of money. Rich uncle, maybe? Well, it hardly mattered now. This lead was drying up fast.

The Omar stood there, silently expecting another question. Adam obliged it: "Has the Collective sold any Alliance military surplus to anyone recently? Boots, Knives, that sort of thing?"

"The Alliance Navy does not allow Omar Traders license to sell any of their equipment, high tech or low tech."

"What about the 'unlicensed' stuff?"

"...We do not wish to antagonize the Alliance Navy."

"...Right. Know anyone on the Citadel that has license to deal with old Alliance hardware?"

"Please wait...Unit Kerensky knows of a Turian weapons and armor trader with a fascination for human military hardware, old and new. Decanus Ordo is the only known Alliance Surplus licensee on the Citadel."

"The Alliance won't let you sell their junk but they'll let a _Turian_ do it?"

The Omar said nothing.

"One last thing: Does the collective have any florists that deal in rare Earth flowers?"

The Omar said nothing.

"Hmph. Worth a shot. I think I'd like to talk to Amnon, now."

The Omar said nothing.

"...Hello?" Adam waved his hand in front of Amnon's mask.

"Detective Jensen. We are aware of the murder case you are investigating. The Collective has agreed to assist you in any way it can in apprehending the killer. We do not have any other information that might be relevant for you at this time, but we shall contact you when we do. That is all. Logging you out."

"Hey, wait a min-"

Adam didn't finish his sentence before Amnon shuddered back into his body. "I hate it when they do that," he said. "No courtesy at all! Not even a proper hello and goodbye!"

"Are you okay, Amnon?"

"Oh, do not fret, Adam! I've been dealing with strangers inside my head for a century, now! Ah! but I forget, I forget! You need contact Ordo, yes?"

Amnon activated his Omni tool and promptly uploaded the address and phone number of Ordo's Arms Armour and Sundries to Adam's own Tool.

"Good man, this Turian, seems to admire humans a great deal!" Amnon leaned in close, his voice quieter: "A little too much, maybe, if you catch Amnon's drift, yes?" he chuckled. "I joke, I joke! The man is happily married to an Asari. Lovely woman!"

"Amnon, what was that earlier? No offense but in the time I've known it the Omar collective hasn't been known to stick out its neck for anyone. And how did it know about Shepard's death? Why does it even care?"

"Adam, I am but a small part of a greater whole. A branch connected to a great tree. I do not presume to know everything there is about my Collective...But I agree, that declaration of help came...unexpectedly. And quite earnestly, too. I could feel that. Something big is coming, Adam, and I fear you'll be standing in its path before long."

**~[h+]~**

Adam got back in his Spinner, closed the canopy and sank into his leather seat and took a deep breath. Talking to Amnon had been a balm, but talking to the collective had been a bit frustrating, mostly because Adam felt he had wasted his time. But it couldn't be helped: there was no way to be sure that a lead would get you to a dead end until your pursued it. Still, he had gotten an address out of it. And twenty-four tungsten core revolver rounds.

Well, maybe it hadn't been such a waste after all.

He typed up Ordo's address on his Nav computer and started up the Spinner's drives. Before he could take off, his Omni-Tool rang: it was a call from his doctor.

"Monsieur Jensen," greeted the french redhead. She seemed a bit nervous.

"Dr Michel," Adam greeted back. "Something wrong? You look a little pale."

Her eyes darted left and right. "I'm afraid i have some bad news, Monsieur Jensen...I've rechecked the scans from your last medical exam and I've found that your implants are causing some severe decay in your ulna. I need you to come in right away."

"...Okay, how bad is this? I'm kind in the middle of an investigation, here."

"You could _die_, Monsieur Jensen. Please, the sooner we fix this problem, the better."

"...Alright, your clinic isn't too out of the way of where I was going anyways. Is the treatment going to take long?"

"Non, non. Not long at all. An hour at most, and then a prescription."

Adam typed up Dr Michel's clinic's address on his Nav computer and took hold of the steering wheel. The Spinner soared above the street, taking its place amongst thousands of other cars within the void encircled by the arms of the Citadel. Adam checked the Traffic: the augmented reality streets in the sky were getting very crowded.

"I'll be there in about twenty minutes."

"Thank you," said the doctor, and she hurriedly closed the connection.

Adam took another deep breath. So, it was finally starting. Adam wasn't all that surprised: between the hundreds of years of deep freeze and the wear and tear he endured on Elysium and his seven-year career at C-Sec, something was bound to start breaking. While Adam could maintain his prosthetics easily enough by duplicating replacement parts with the mini Fabricator C-Sec had provided him to maintain his weapons, the Wetware, the electronic components that were stuck throughout his central nervous system, were well out his reach. While Chloe Michel was a competent physician and learning something new about 2020's cybernetics every day, she was still far, far out of her depth when it came to Sarif Industries Wetware. In fact, the only experts left were stuck in a freezer somewhere below Detroit, and they weren't coming out any time soon.

Adam, in other words, was doomed to die from lack of maintenance. It was a wonder he lasted this long.

He took another deep breath. _You were prepared for this. You were prepared for this. _He mentally repeated the mantra in his head to prepare for the inevitable, and tried to remind himself that the inevitable would be a long ways off as long as he kept seeing his doctor and stopped the cowboy ninja cop antics.

He also tried to remember which part of his brain the Ulna was supposed to be. You know, just to know what the fuss was about.

**~[h+]~**

Dr Michel quietly, desperately hoped Jensen remembered enough human biology to remember the ulna was located in the forearm and, since his original arms were gone, he technically didn't have ulnas any more. She had hoped he would catch on with her lie, that he was being led to a trap. She hoped...but Jensen didn't seem to have caught on at all.

The green-crested Krogan aiming a shotgun to her head grinned. "Thank you, darling." He motioned to one of his thugs, a human. "Take her in the back with the beds and keep an eye on her. Nothing freezes up a cop like a hostage." He then turned to his two salarian goons planting something on each side of the clinic's main entrance. " Are the EMP mines set up?" he asked them.

One of the goons got up and rubbed his hands. "Yep. As soon as Jensen crosses that door, the mines should render him mostly harmless and defenseless."

"Good. Only _mostly._" The Krogan smiled. He may have been a hitman, but he did like a little sport.

"Hey, Thog?" asked the Salarian.

"What?"

"Why is Fist sending us to kill a C-Sec agent? This is trouble we don't want."

Thog was annoyed, he didn't like answering stupid questions: "Jensen and Vakarian are _krant_. We were lucky the turian came at us alone, but once Vakarian is reported missing, Jensen will be alerted and he _will_ find his partner. Trouble will be coming at us, it's only be a matter of time. Might as well fight on a ground of our choosing."

"Right, well, two things? One: I'm scratching my head as to why we haven't killed the chicken and dumped his corpse into a vat."

Thog groaned and rolled his eyes. Were Salarians always so insubordinate? "Ask Fist."

"Two: this setup? A one-room clinic the size of a flat with only a chest high wall by the beds for cover? Close quarters is your thing, not mine. We could just-"

"It's a good enough setup. You take your friend there and take that cover, get yourselves ready to fill Jensen with holes when the mines take him down."

"We could just kill him in his sleep!"

No. That wasn't good way to kill a man. Not ever. Thog started seeing red. "Look, You want to run this job?"

"Actually, yes, I do want to run this job!"

"Well guess what?" He cocked his heavy shotgun for emphasis. "You CAN'T. Now get behind cover and keep your mouth SHUT. Your constant yapping is harming my calm."

The Salarian goon knew better than piss off a krogan, so he obeyed. That didn't stop him from muttering a few curses under his breath while he configured his sub-machine gun to fire Disruptor rounds. Thog watched him disappear behind the chest high wall and, satisfied that the salarian wasn't giving any more crap, loaded a Hammerhead polonium ammo block into his shotgun and a noise canceller on its muzzle. If by some unlikely chance the EMP mines and the disruptor rounds didn't faze Jensen at all, Thog would be able to pound him into submission and watch as the poison robbed the light from his eyes.

Sixteen minutes of waiting. Sixteen minutes of telling that whimpering little human to stop her crying. Sixteen minutes of looking forward to savor the kill, and finally, the door chime rang. It was time for Jensen to die. _Good. _Thog quietly ordered the human holding the woman hostage as he took up a position just out of sight: "Get her to ring him in from her laptop. No talking: she might try something stupid."

The humans complied, and the red holographic ring on the main door turned into a green lozenge. Thog licked his lips. The door opened. It was almost time...

Nobody came through.

Thog squinted, his eyes straining to make out the tell-tale distortions of a cloaking field, but he saw nothing. He listened intently for the sound of footsteps, but he heard nothing. There was no one there. Something was wrong.

"_Lizard_, turn off those mines."

"Hey, that's offen-"

"Shut up and do it."

The salarian tech typed something on his omni tool and the two mines on each side of the door switched off. Thog approached the open door quietly. He holstered his shotgun: he didn't want to alert any passerbys on the street. Thog stuck his head out, hoping to catch sight of his quarry. Nothing. So far his eyes had not served him well, so he decided his sense of smell would do a better job. A deep breath, and the scent of a dead animal's skin, tanned and dyed, tickled the room of his mouth. It was a fresh scent, and Thog smiled. Adam was close: Thog had heard the human had a fondness for fine, real leather. But then, Thog's eyes had decided to make themselves useful, and he caught sight of a bundle of blue leather just below an open air vent just three meters above the ground. The Krogan thug was puzzled and decided to poke at the leather bundle (which, as it turned out, was a human-sized coat), realized that Jensen had sensed the trap, and he rushed back inside back to his three henchmen.

Thog really, really shouldn't have checked out that coat. If he hadn't, if he had turned around soon after sticking his head outside, then he might have been seen Jensen tap the human hostage taker on the shoulder and then punch his lights out as the poor sap turned around. He might have been able to do something as Jensen cloaked, rushed the two salarians, grabbed them by their collars and bashed their skulls together. Since he had wasted his time, Thog came in just time to see a decloaking Jensen dropping one unconscious salarian down on the floor. Thog's second mistake was holstering that shotgun. Drawing a weapon was quick enough, but letting it deploy from its collapsed storage state took exactly one point two seconds. He also loaded a Carnage Round, which added another second of charging time on top of that. Two point two second. Enough for Jensen to crack a smile and exploit Thog's last mistake. The salarian Jensen was still holding by the neck had his omni tool on, and it was still connected to the two EMP mines. The cop pressed the big red holographic button on it and the mines woke up to the presence of a large, fully armored Krogan drawing out a shotgun. Naturally, they exploded, causing every shield capacitor in Thog's armor to discharge and the mass effect field holding up the glob of compressed molten metal inside Thog's weapon to collapse. The hot metal oozed into the shotgun's innards and turned them into slag, rendering the large weapon useless.

Now, the Krogan was getting mad: he really loved that gun. He dropped the ruined weapon, bellowed out a challenge to the cyborg cop and began to charge. Jensen's response was to vault the chest high wall and charge right back at the Krogan. Thog was surprised: he had expected the cop to come at him sideways, use some trickery or even his weapons to try and kill him. But that was fine: Thog didn't care how augmented the puny human was: No one could beat him at a charge, he was seven hundred pounds of muscle running at twenty-five kilometers per hour. Nothing could stop him.

But Thog didn't factor several things. One: Adam could run at one hundred kilometers per hour. Two: Adam was about to punch Thog in the face, not counter-tackle him. Three: Adam's fist was made out of carbon nanotube reinforced polymer with a reinforced titanium endo-structure, making it quite capable of punching through walls. Four: Thog's unarmored face was not a concrete wall, despite boasts of the contrary to impressionable females.

Thog's face broke under the combined force of his own charge, Adam's running speed and the extra power from the myomer bundles in his cybernetic arm. The Krogan was knocked back six meters and his back slammed into the wall, robbing him of his consciousness. His healing factor kicked in, trying to repair the damage to his face, but there was simply no regenerating the trauma to his brain. Thog drifted in and out of consciousness for a few seconds, haunted by one last thought before the darkness took him.

Yes, he should definitely have killed Jensen in his sleep.

**~[h+]~**

Officer Lang came in the clinic, investigating a code 415 that dispatch called in just as he was walking by. He was about to open the door when he heard a loud banging noise emanating from the wall, and he decided to draw his sidearm before entering the small clinic.

The young, blonde, and somewhat babyfaced human C-Sec officer hadn't expected to find an unconscious, fully armored Krogan, and much less a _cyborg_ binding said Krogan with high strength restraints flash forged from an omni-tool. Was he a mercenary? A bounty hunter? Same difference, and probably illegal on the Citadel.

"Freeze!" commanded Lang, pointing his gun at the cyborg. The cyborg simply got up with his hands raised and pointed at the badge attached to his belt. Lang deployed his augmented reality visor and scanned the badge. It was authentic, and relayed info about the man carrying it.

"Oh. Detective Jensen?" Lang lowered his gun. He had heard about C-Sec's very own cyber-cop, but he had never met the...man personally. Introductions were in order. "Officer Eddie Lang. I'm answering the 415? Someone saw a flash of lightning then heard a Krogan roar in this clinic earlier."

Jensen receded his shades and spoke: "Hostage situation in progress, but I defused it. By the way, I've got three more perps unconscious back there -one human, two salarians- I'll bind them up, you secure their weapons and omni tools."

Lang secured the crime scene as directed, occasionally taking a glance at Jensen's hands. The man worked fast, with practiced efficiency. They were both done in less than a minute. While they worked, Jensen had asked the french woman is she was alright, then asked her to explain what these four men wanted with her.

"These are Fist's men! They said they have Garrus! You have to rescue him!" The woman was tired and very distraught. Lang had just finished removing the ammo block from the last weapon, and decided to try to calm the woman down.

"Ma'am, take a deep breath, try to relax, and start from the beginning. Who is Garrus?"

She pointed at Jensen. "He's his partner." Then she turn to him. "Your partner. You have to go rescue him now!"

"_Michel,_" said Jensen, sternly. "I am NOT going anywhere, not after you practically baited me into walking into a trap-"

"I tried warning you!"

"And you're lucky I remembered my high school biology, otherwise I would be cuffing you with the rest of these scum! Now do as the man says: take a deep breath, calm the HELL down, and start from the beginning or we WILL continue this at the station!"

The doctor was taken aback. She was evidently not used to men being this harsh with her, but it worked. She collected herself and started her story.

"Yesterday, a Quarian girl came to me in need of medical help. She had been grazed by a several polonium rounds, but she wouldn't tell me who shot her. She was scared and on the run, asked me about the Shadow Broker. She wanted to trade information - something to do with the geth - in exchange for her safety, so I put her in contact with Fist, one of the shadow broker's agents." She rubbed her hands anxiously. "I though nothing of it until four of fist's men came knocking on my door..."

"Don't worry, ma'am." Lang reassured her. "They won't be waking up any time soon."

"Non, non! Not these men! It was still yesterday, I was getting ready to close the clinic when these four men - humans - barged in and made threats. Garrus was coming, and they didn't want me to tell him about the Quarian...but the truth was he was already stalking these men. One of them started getting...ideas about me, and Garrus intervened. Shot all of them in the head!"

Lang couldn't believe his ears. This Garrus fella just shot four men in the head in cold blood? Without so much as a warning? That was against regulations!

"Lang, this is your beat. Did Vakarian call that one in?"

"No," answered Lang, shaking his head. "If there were four dead perps I'd have heard about it!"

The doctor spoke up. "That's because Garrus told me to not call C-Sec and hide the bodies in the freezer where i keep my samples."

"He did what?" the two policemen said in unison. Adam continued: "Michel, do you realize how much trouble you're in? Hiding bodies is a goddamned felony!"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Garrus said that he needed to keep the Spectres off the scent, that they wanted to destroy his case against Saren, and that if C-Sec knew he was on to Fist, the Spectres would move in on Chora's Den and destroy any evidence, maybe even kill the Quarian!" She started crying. "Please, he said he'd take care of me, that I wouldn't lost my license over this! I-I just wanted to help! Please don't arrest me!" And then she wept openly.

Lang was wide-eyed. He just didn't know how to deal crying women: no matter how much he tried to calm them down they seemed to cry all the harder. Jensen didn't seem to care, though, and he seemed keen on crushing her some more: "So you led a Quarian girl and a lone C-Sec officer into gangster's lair? You're just on a roll today, aren't you, Doctor Michel?" He walked away from her in disgust.

"Sir," said Lang meekly as he followed Jensen. "She's trying to cooperate."

"Don't care." Adam didn't break stride. "I'm headed for Chora's Den. Call for backup, but don't surround the Den just yet: I'm going to infiltrate the place to confirm Vakarian's presence, secure him and, if possible, exfiltrate him. If I don't call in within an hour, you move in."

"Sir, you're going at it alone?"

"I sneak in better on my own. Besides, a whole group of C-Sec patrollers at Fist's door and he might try and hold Vakarian hostage, or just kill him."

"But I've been to Chora's Den, sir! The place is surrounded by armed thugs! Even the dancers are packing! You need to wait for reinforcements!"

Adam looked over his shoulder, fixing his metallic yellow-green stare on Lang.

"_I am the reinforcements," _he said, as his shades deployed.

**~[h+]~**

CODEX ENTRY: CITADEL RACES: HUMAN: OMAR

_The Omar Techno sects (or Collectives) are societies of radically cyberneticaly modified humans that emerged during the Collapse. They originated from the city of Yekaterinburg, when a group of scientists submitted themselves to radical biomodification in an attempt to survive the famines and diseases brought on by the global disaster. The Omar, cut off from the rest of the world, predicted an age when nations didn't exist and humanity was divided by ideology, and prepared themselves to be the living embodiment of the black market. When global communications were re-established a decade later, their predictions were proven wrong, as the nations of earth merged and consolidated into larger superpowers._

_The Omar found themselves unwelcome in a global society that shunned all forms of human augmentation. In a bid to 'fit in', the second generation of Omar bodies were designed to respect the difference between 'prosthesis' and 'augmentation', and Omar recruitment targeted the disabled and terminally ill with offers of an immortal mechanical body. This did little good for their reputation as they appeared extremely opportunistic, a problem made worse as the Omar's business acumen (which has allowed Yekaterinburg's economy to flourish) became the envy of every nation on earth. UN politics often vied to outlaw Omar cyber-modification to excuse going to war with the Yekaterinburg Omar city-state, and the UNAS would have nearly succeeded were it not for the outbreak of the First Contact War. In order to escape the political turmoil caused by their very existence, the Omar went on a mass exodus into space, leaving the gleaming spires of Yekaterinburg forever._

_The Omar individual is part of greater, merged collective consciousness, achieved through the implantation of a wireless cortical interface around the brain. While a single Omar has a semblance of a personal life, he or she is in fact always being watched by the gestalt entity composed of hundreds (sometimes thousands) of linked human brains. When the entire collective wishes to speak, they can do so through a single representative. Sociologists in Citadel space are fascinated by the Omar, as they are a prototype for a 'perfect democracy', but most people find the prospect of having next to no privacy frightening and unsettling._

_The galactic communities perceive the Omar as uncaring capitalist robots willing to do anything to anyone and sell anything to anyone if the price is good enough. In reality, each Omar collective has its own moral code. The Terminus Collective specializes in gun running, drug running and mercenary work, but despises slaving. The Noveria collective can be best described as a 'mad scientist', but draws the line at experimenting on live sentients. The Citadel Collective is mostly composed of law abiding merchants and craftsmen, but are also willing to trade in black market goods C-Sec has relatively no interest in policing, such as medicine. _


	6. Chapter 4

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

Chapter 4

"Mr Vakariaaaaan..." the white haired middle aged human sang. Garrus gasped. He could feel his muscles relaxing, the tingle of electricity was leaving his body and was replaced by the soothing burn of medicine crawling in his veins: someone had used a resuscitation package on him. He opened his eyes and squinted as the harsh blue-white light emanating from the ceiling savaged his cornea, unimpeded by his pupils. When his eyes adjusted, he took stock of his situation.

Yep, he was still naked.

He was also hanging from a meat hook, his arms tightly bound to the metal curve by rope, his feet hovering half a foot above the tiled floor. Cracked, gleaming white tiles covered all four concrete walls. At his left was a table with a medkit and various tools. The room's temperature was a bit too low for Garrus' tastes but the Greasels, sitting in their cages with their maws muzzled, seemed to like it that way.

Garrus now decided that he hated Greasels. He had been briefed, but he hadn't quite been prepared for the nasty little critters: twenty-three thugs had died trying to bring him down, and he would have made it out if it weren't for one of the nasty little pet critters spitting that gunk onto his shirt. The resulting fumes were pretty noxious to humans to begin with, but being a dextro added the extra complication of an allergic reaction. Garrus fainted in seconds.

But that wasn't the worst of it, oh no. Fist wanted something called "a pound of flesh" for all the trouble Garrus had caused, and he had immediately injected the Turian C-Sec agent with a synringe of Panacea. The allergic reaction stopped and the toxins flushed out of his system, Garrus woke up in the part of the basement where Fist kept the Greasels, in the warm company of a Turian in a stripped down _Phantom_ Armor (painted orange with black tiger stripes) with a _Talon_ knife holstered on the breastplate, a middle aged human in a lab coat and long plastic gloves, and a salarian carrying Garrus' _Kassa Mongoose _on his belt and...wearing a wool hat on his head. A multicolored, thick wool hat with flaps. Garrus couldn't resist making a comment on that hat, which earned him a fractured rib. Then, the human brought out a cheap, thin cutting tool meant to cut packaging, dipped it in Greasel spit, and started with the _cutting._

Garrus screamed for hours. He had eventually lost consciousness when that injection of Panacea wore off and he went into shock again. Some part of him hoped he wouldn't wake up.

"You were _dead_, Mister Vakarian..." said the human as he unhooked the cardio-stimulators from Garrus' flesh. "Too soon, _too soon_! Fist wants you to suffer at least two days, minimum!"

"Yeah well, that's what you get when you mix-" Garrus coughed violently, silencing the witty comeback. He tasted the metal in his blood. He sucked in some air, and retched: it had the taste and smell of turian waste.

"And you made a mess... tsk tsk tsk. What would your mother say if she saw you like this, hm?"

"Fuck you."

Vakarian almost regretted saying that when the turian thug punched him in the liver. Of course, after what he had just gone through, it was kinda like getting gently tapped on the head. The human protested, surprisingly enough:

"No no no no no, blunt force trauma too easy, too simple...no art. No art at all! And besides, Medi Gel still working, sealing wounds, dulls pain. We wait before we begin again. For now...we talk."

"Oh, so now we're going for an interrogation?"

"No, not interrogation," said the torturer as he set the cardio stimulator back into the medkit. The human leaned in closer to Garrus. "I want to know you, that is all."

"Sorry..." Garrus gulped. "...You're not my type."

The torturer laughed. "Everybody lies. Everybody pretends. Pain..." the human twirled his toxin-covered knife for emphasis. "...Breaks down the lies you build around yourself. The lies you tell people so that they like you, the lies your project at people to keep them away from the truth of you..."

Garrus groaned...not so much because of the dull aches of slowly sealing cuts around his body, but because he was starting to get annoyed: what was it with psychotic torture fetishists and their pseudo-philosophical, armchair psychology bullshit? Why couldn't they just enjoy their sick sadistic impulses without attaching some great, deep purpose behind them?

"You believe you are a man of the law. You believe that you are a servant of Justice. That is the lie. The you, the real you? I caught a glimpse of him on our security vids. A glimpse of you, the real you...You're a killer, Mister Vakarian."

"Tell me something I don't know."

"Unlike other Turians, of course. The years of mandatory training your people endure tends to strip away the...passion? Yes. Let's say passion, behind the killing, turns it into a chore. But not you, oh no."

The torturer got closer.

"You noticed from the video feeds that you take pride in your skill, and more than just joy in a successful kill."

The torturer got closer. Too close.

"Each death announced with the thunder of your gun, each death heralded by the croak of a death rattle..."

The torturer started fondling Garrus' genitals.

"Made. You. HARD."

Garrus immediately responded by headbutting the human in the face. He had hoped to break the bastard's nose, but had to settle for knocking him off his feet. The torturer fell on his back.

"I'm sorry, was that supposed to turn me to the dark side? I've heard better evil monologues in the vids."

The Salarian immediately grabbed Garrus by the mandible and pressed his handgun to the turian's face. The torturer got back up and collected himself, fixing his comb-over with his hand. He sniffed disdainfully.

"Look, are you done talking?" shouted the Salarian to the torturer as he pressed the gun harder against Garrus' head. "Can you get back to the cutting? I wanna hear him scream some more!"

"Oh? And why are you so eager for me to continue?"

"He killed my _wife! _She was just a dancer on her break and he put a bullet in her brain!"

Garrus remembered her. "The Asari dancer who was packing a shotgun with murder in her eyes? She didn't make her first shot count, and I wasn't keen on giving her a second. If you're trying to make me feel b-OOF!"

The Turian thug punched Garrus in the liver again. He really felt that one: the Medi-Gel must have been wearing off. The torturer noticed Garrus' wince of pain and, with a smile, put the cutting tool back onto the table with the rest of the tools. He then took from the table some kind of small black rod, the size of a cigar, with a small button on the middle.

"This item..." he said, caressing the rod like a pet. "Was designed to torture cyborgs." He pressed the button, and a needle sprang from the rod. The needle went slack and split into nine, smaller tendrils, and each tendril split into nine hairs. They wriggled, seeking something, and retracted immediately. "A lot of cyborgs before the Collapse had too little...meat on them for effective torture, and this tool was designed to bind itself to what was left of their nervous system and..._remind_ them of the meaning of pain. The pain? Unimaginable! And yet it doesn't cause enough physical trauma to kill. As for the psychological trauma, well..."

"Saving the best for last, eh?" Garrus asked sarcastically. He noticed the door on the other side of the room open and close, with no one coming in, and smiled inwardly. He eyed the Salarian carrying his gun: He had withdrawn behind the human with a smile, eager to watch the torturer continue his work.

"I was actually saving it for your friend. I made a request to Mr Thog to bring him to me alive, but...One cannot expect a Krogan to hold back, no? Such a shame, such a shame...Of course, at the time I did not expect you to be such a resilient subject, Mr Vakarian. Not even _death _has broken you. But I assure you: this..." he gestured at the rod for emphasis. "..._will_ reveal the truth of you."

The torturer raised his hand, ready to stab Garrus with the black rod, but then his hand twisted in a way that a human wrist was never meant to tolerate and he dropped the torture device, screaming. His cries were cut short when he felt a kick behind on the back of his knee and a hand pushing the back of his head as he fell. His face met the unclean floor beneath Garrus' feet. A man-shaped glow of light materialized into a tall human in a blue longcoat. It was Adam Jensen, and the two thugs reacted to the threat between them immediately.

The salarian barely had time to put his finger on his gun's trigger before he felt a pressure on the wrist of his gun hand and the _Mongoose_ was twisted sideways, its trigger guard breaking the finger inside it. The gun clattered on the floor, and the Salarian was lifted by both his wrist and his codpiece and thrown towards the _Phantom_-clad Turian, who had just withdrawn his knife.

To the Turian's credit, he was knocked two feet back, but not knocked down. His Phantom armor had been modified with a kinetic assist mod, and the artificial muscles coating arms swelled and bulged suddenly as he caught the incoming hundred-pound salarian with both arms and threw him back at Adam. The cyborg cop sidestepped, and the Salarian slammed into a nearby Greasel cage. The turian quickly followed up by charging Adam in an attempt to gut him with the _talon_.

Adam sidestepped and dodged the stabbing attack. The Turian reversed his grip and attempted to backhand Jensen, aiming for the neck. His attack wasn't so much blocked as exploited: Adam grabbed the turian's knife arm with both hands and pulled him into a spin, and when the Turian had lost all balance atttempting to resist being pulled, Adam reversed the spin and pushed, slamming the thug into the ground. Knowing that the armor would absorb enough of the impact to keep the turian conscious, Adam took out his Stunner, kneeled, pressed the taser-like device against the turian's temple and pulled the trigger. The small concussion pulse shook the criminal's brain, and he fell into unconsciousness. Adam turned to his partner, just hanging there from a meat hook, looking as unimpressed as possible.

"Well," said Garrus. "You certainly took your sweet time."

**~[h+]~**

_CODEX ENTRY: ANIMAL SPECIES: EARTH: REPTILIAN: GREASELS:_

_The Greasel is a carnivorous reptillian trangenic animal created before The Collapse by the VersaLife biotech corporation to serve as a guard animal. After the Collapse, hundreds of Greasel test subjects escaped from various VersaLife facilities across the world, and they quickly earned a reputation as extremely dangerous pests haunting sewers._

_Greasels are short bipeds with two feathered, clawed arms. Their heads are long and large, with a maw capable of spitting a potent venom. Their prey of choice are usually small live mammals, such as mice or cats. If desperate for a meal, however, they are quite capable of attempting to devour a live human by attacking in small groups, using cunning and patient ambush tactics_

_Despite all the dangers Greasels pose, they are sought after in the criminal underworld for various purposes besides serving as a guard animal. "Greasel fights" have been a popular attraction in bars in the poorer districts on Earth for a century, and are becoming more common in Citadel space and the Terminus Systems, where they have also become a popular staple food second only to Varren. Greasel venom, while not as potent as cheap, lab produced neurotoxins used by hitmen and assassins, is an effective pain inducer when injected just under the skin, making it a useful torture tool for gangsters. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes:<strong> decided to keep this chapter short. I was going to have Garrus' shins broken for this chapter and make Adam apply some painful first aid with bone setting and his sonar vision, but decided it was just pointless fluff._ _I also need to turn these out faster, so I'll try to keep these chapters lean from here on in. I still won't shy away from exposition, though._


	7. Chapter 5

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

* * *

><p><strong>Mass Effect: Human Revolution<strong>

**Chapter 5**

Jensen had every intention on chewing Garrus out for incriminating Dr Michel. He even worked out a big speech while he was busy stuffing that unconscious janitor in the supply closet (he needed his keys). He was ready to remind Garrus that they were cops, not cowboys, and that a body count was more trouble than it was worth: even the lowest scumbag in the galaxy had friends and family, someone that would want retribution for their loss.

The speech died on Jensen's lips when he saw his naked partner strung up and covered in scars and dried blue blood, some of it pooled beneath his taloned feet. Retribution had extracted a toll on Garrus Vakarian's own flesh.

"Well," said Garrus. "You certainly took your sweet time. Got stuck in an airvent?"

Jensen proceeded to quickly secure the three unconscious perps, prioritizing the Salarian (as he was already stirring). He flash-cuffed them all in just under a half a minute, secured their weapons, and proceeded to get Garrus down from the meat-hook and sat him down on an empty Greasel cage. He reconfigured his Omni-tool into med-scan mode and scanned Garrus' body: It reported damaged skin, a fractured rib and some inert toxins in his digestive tract, deposited there by genetically-modified micro-organisms to be excreted later. Apparently, the human torturer had taken some care in keeping Vakarian alive, no doubt to extend his suffering. The drained resuscitation package on the table, however, implied that he hadn't been all that successful.

"Jesus...Vakarian, how long-"

"-Not long enough, Jensen." interrupted Garrus as he rubbed his sore arms. "I'll be fine. Just need to catch my breath for a minute. I don't suppose you've got anything to eat?"

"...Just my candy bars."

Said candy bars weren't dextro, of course. "Damn."

"Let's get you some dignity, instead. Do you know where they put your gear?"

"They put everything in an incinerator." Garrus nodded at the Salarian, bound and freshly stunned. "Although this guy took my heavy pistol."

"Don't worry, I got it."

"Good, but as much as I love that gun I don't plan on running around naked and bloody, shooting bad guys with it. I mean, can you imagine?' Garrus tried to have a laugh, but it quickly turned into a little coughing fit. "Anyway, I think that junky Phantom Armor's about my size. Help me get it off that guy, would you?"

It took ten minutes to strip the armor off the unconscious Turian thug, time during which Jensen contacted Sergeant Bailey on his headset to confirm Vakarian's safety. Lang had contacted the older human C-Sec officer immediately after Jensen had left the clinic, and Bailey quickly put together a group of patrollers as reinforcements.

_"How's the young cuttle bone doing?" _asked Bailey.

"They gave him a 'greasy acupuncture' with an exacto knife," bluntly answered Adam.

_"...Jesus. He should be dead."_

"They injected him with enough Panacea to counteract the allergic reaction. Too bad Greasel spit is like acid on the nerves."

"_No kidding. Need us to come in?"_

"He's holding together and he can walk. I think i can get him out of here quietly."

_"Good to know. Look, my Lieutenant is starting to grill me about commandeering five patrol cars and just hovering above the Den. I can hold him at bay but it won't be long before he talks to the Chief and I'll have to tell them both about your rescue op...I'll need something to keep them happy when this is done. Got anything juicy?"_

"I took some photographic evidence of Zyme trafficking on the way in, plus I've got a few cages of Greasels in the basement. I doubt Fist has a license to breed those."

_"Send me the pics."_

Jensen let Garrus finish strapping on the armor by himself and typed a few buttons on his omni-tool, initiating a data upload to Bailey.

_"Good, good. I'll send this to the proper channels. We might be able to organize a raid against Fist later. Jensen?"_

"Yeah?"

_"Good luck."_

Garrus had finished putting the armor on and was getting started with calibrating the thin bundles of artificial muscle covering his limbs to prevent them from breaking his bones.

"Almost ready to go?" asked Jensen.

"In a minute. Mind getting a few hypos of Panacea Dextro from that medkit? I'm going to need them if we run into any Greasels on the way to Fist's office."

"Fist's office?" said Jensen as he picked up the hypos. "Vakarian, we're headed out the backdoor and getting you to a hospital, that's where we're going." He slapped the hypos against Garrus' chestplate.

"Fist is involved with Saren!" Garrus took the Panacea hypos and put them in a small satchel strapped to the small of his back. "A Quarian girl came to him-"

"-looking to contact the Shadow Broker. I know, Michel-"

"-with evidence connecting Saren to the Geth's attack of Eden Prime!"

Jensen's eyes widened under his shades, as it sounded almost too good to be true: A Quarian comes out of the blue with key evidence? "And Fist is now working for Saren? If that's true then she's probably already dead."

Garrus shook his head. "No, no. I thought so too and figured I might find her body here, but she was apparently just paranoid enough to demand a meeting with the Shadow Broker himself. Fist set up a meet, but she won't be meeting anyone but Saren's men. I have no idea where or when this is supposed to take place."

"How did you learn about this?"

"One drop of blood at a time," Garrus sighed. "You'd be surprised how much intel bad guys are willing to share with you when you're bound and at their mercy. In any case, I'm hoping to get the meeting's location out of Fist's PC, or if we're lucky..." His eye ridges took on a menacing expression. "...Fist himself."

"...I'll contact Bailey, let him know we're not coming out for a while."

"Then you're in?"

"Yeah," he withdrew the _Kassa Moongoose_ from his coat and handed it to Garrus. "I'm in. But let's keep this quiet, alright?"

_**~[h+]~**_

The main door to Chora's Den exploded, and the Krogan Mercenary known as Urdnot Wrex walked through the slagged doorway, his heavy assault shotgun at the ready. His wide-set eyes took stock of the situation around the large, circular room: Four humans with SMGs on the left, three humans and two salarians on the right, carrying SMGs and DMRs, respectively. He could hear the telltale croaking of angry Greasels hopped up on Zyme, and the heavy footfall for the Krogan thug he had been harassing hours earlier. Wrex smiled.

"This just might be fun," the old mercenary told himself as he cast a biotic Barrier around himself.

_**~[h+]~**_

The rumble of an explosion shook the basement, and from the bottom of the staircase Jensen and Vakarian could hear shouts, gunfire and screams.

"What in the hell?" Jensen was not happy. He had managed to sneak up to the stairwell with Garrus in tow, but the commotion upstairs would soon bring every hostile thug they snuck by to this very position.

"I..._might_ have forgotten about the Krogan merc that had been threatening Fist's life."

Jensen glared at Vakarian.

"I didn't think he would assault the Den on his own!" Garrus winced as the words left his mouth. Before he had been caught, that's pretty much exactly what he did.

"We have to run for it, if Fist is in league with Saren then we'll need him alive to testify! Go!"

The two C-sec agents ran up the staircase until they reached the automatic door at the top. Garrus went in first, then Jensen. As the door slid closed Jensen slammed the back of his fist into the electronic lock, causing the green hologram hovering above it to flicker and die. His motion scanner detected movement behind the now-non functional door. _Just in time_, Jensen thought to himself.

They were now in a sundry storage room with several weapons lockers and a few open crates. There were two heavy doors besides the one Jensen had just jammed, and Garrus shot the holo-lock on the one that lead to the bar (and the slaughter). Hopefully, it would delay the mercenary for a few precious seconds.

"How much farther to Fist's office?"

"Past this door..." he pointed the third door. "...into the VIP section. After that it's another stairwell up.

_**~[h+]~**_

They were all dead, save for the krogan bouncer. The bastard had gotten his hands on a Fortification mod for his bulletproof clothing and was covered in a non-Newtonian fluid held together by a low-intensity mass-effect field. Powerful as his shotgun was, Wrex's shots did nothing but bruise the bouncer. Meanwhile, Wrex's Barrier was about to give: he had simply taken too many shots and the bouncer's own shotgun had stopped venting its excess heat.

Wrex's fist glowed, and he sent a Warp bolt on the bouncer and took cover. Finding its mark, the bolt of biotic energy exploded and wrapped itself around the krogan thug. The multitude of shifting biotic pulses tore away the milky Fortification gel, creating a multitude of odd, branching shapes around the bouncer. When the Warp was done tearing at the layer, he had no protection left.

And then Wrex took aim and pressed down the trigger, letting his assault shotgun go full auto. The bouncer was turned into hamburger.

_**~[h+]~**_

"THERE IS NO WAY FIST IS PAYING THESE GUYS ENOUGH FOR THIS!" Garrus shouted over the loud roar of his _Mongoose. _He was firing itinto a human thug's kneecaps (_kill only if you have to_, Jensen had insisted). Despite being crippled, the criminal apparently wasn't in enough pain to _stop shooting_, and Garrus had to follow up by shooting him in the arms as well. He previously had to do this to eight of Fist's men.

"I'm pretty sure he just 'paid' them in Zyme!" answered Jensen. He was holding up a man in chokehold with one arm and firing his Hahne-Kedar Mark 23 light pistol at a hostile. He didn't like using human (or alien) shields, but there wasn't a whole lot of good cover to be had in the VIP room. At least the man had some cheap body armor on. "I had to use my stunner _twice_ on this guy and he's still struggling a bit!"

Garrus ducked back into his cover, a closed metal cart filled with snacks (which was now mostly made of holes) to let his gun cool. _Zyme_, Garrus thought. _Three times as potent as cocaine or Soma, and works wonders as a cheap substitute to combat stim. Fist probably had his men take a hit of that poison when he hastily set up this defense. Spirits damn him!_

Jensen and Garrus crippled the last remaining Zyme-fueled thug and quickly proceeded to the staircase leading to Fist's office. Or at least, that's what they would have done if the Krogan cook hadn't come out of the kitchen. He wasn't wearing any sort of protection, but he had a wild look to his eyes, traces of white powder on the top of his lip, and a meat cleaver slick with Greasel blood. He charged the two C-Sec agents, howling like a madman.

As six hundred and fifty pounds of insane, Zyme-snorting, cleaver wielding Krogan came rushing at them, the same thought occurred between the two cops:

_Aw, shi-_

_**~[h+]~**_

Wrex stepped through the molten ruins of the door. Apparently Fist thought he could buy himself some time by locking the doors. He hated to admit it, but it had worked: Wrex had tried to use his physical might to pry open the door for a few minutes before giving up and using a thermite breaching charge.

He was in some kind of storage room with three doors. According to the map he was provided, the door on his right led to the basement, and the one on his left would take him to the VIP area, where Fist's men were no doubt setting up an ambush.

"I told you i could get it open!" said the Salarian tech to the dozen or so armed thugs behind him as the basement door opened. "Let's hurry and-" the technician's face blanched as he saw the fully armored Krogan mercenary, his red armor slick with several different colors of fresh blood.

"Hi." said Wrex as he aimed his assault shotgun at the Salarian's face.

_**~[h+]~**_

"I hope you saw that," said Jensen, catching his breath. "because I won't be doing it again."

The krogan chef was an unconscious heap on a broken wooden table. He was still clutching his cleaver despite having several bullet holes in his arms and legs, a dislocated shoulder and a drained stunner rod stuck in his eye socket.

Garrus was checking his heavy pistol's ammo block. "Eh, I softened him up for ya."

"How are you ammo wise?" Jensen asked. They had both needed to unload quite a bit of metal on their adversaries to take them down. While modern small arms could shave thousands of round out of a block, it didn't hurt to check every once in a while.

"Forty percent. You?"

Jensen checked his Mark 23's ammo block as he and his partner walked up the steps to Fist's office. "Fifty-seven. What are we going to find in that Office?"

"Just Fist."

"You're certain about that?" Adam turned up his Smart Vision just as they approached Fist's door, and the thermographic and t-wave imagers embedded in his eyes outlined objects of interest inside the office. More precisely: one human clad in a heavy hard-suit carrying an Avenger assault rifle modified with an oversized heatsink hiding behind a desk, and two undeployed machine gun turrets in the back. Jensen relayed that information to Garrus.

"Aw hell," answered the Turian cop. "Any cover we can use?"

"Pillars on our left and right."

"I got right, you got left." Garrus said as he typed on the door's holo-lock. "It isn't locked...heh, I guess he's inviting us in. You ready?"

"Ready. On three: one, two..."

Garrus pressed the main button on the holo-lock and the door snapped open.

"...three!" They both dove for their respective covers, taking potshots at the deploying turrets while in mid-air. They hit the ground rolling, taking cover behind the metal pillars. Garrus had gotten lucky shot in and perforated the left turret's main rotor before its shields deployed, Sadly, Jensen had only managed to hit the other turret in the armor, leaving its insides quite intact. It immediately began firing at his cover, keeping him suppressed.

"Vakarian!" Jensen shouted over the roar of the machine gun. "Think you might-"

_Blam. _Garrus' _Mongoose_ spat out a 2mm phasic round that tore throught the turret's main optic, rendering the whole machine ineffective. "I just did." said Garrus, satisfied with himself. That only left Fist to deal with, and between his cover, heavy armor and assault rifle with superior cooling, he could keep both Adam and Garrus pinned for a long time. Adam considered calling Bailey and his reinforcements, but then they might run across the mercenary and Adam was unwilling to put good cops in danger. That left one option.

"Fist, you're under arrest! Put down the rifle and come out with your hands up!" Jensen had a faint hope that the crime lord would listen to reason and surrender without any more fuss, but who was he kidding? Lately, Fist did most of his thinking with Zyme.

Fist answered with a blindfired burst of his Avenger rifle. "FUCK YOU, COP!"

Adam pressed on: "There's a Krogan merc headed here with every intention of killing you! Surrender to us, and we can keep you safe from him!"

"Safe?" the crime lord shouted back. "There's no keeping me 'safe', asshole! Don't you know who put a bounty on my head? The goddamned Shadow Broker, that's who! It doesn't matter if you bury me in a hole deep in the core of some bumfuck moon, he WILL find me and he WILL end me!"

"Alright, so you're as good as dead! But you can still decide how it ends: You could die here, shot to death or _worse_, or you could sit comfortably in a high security solitary cell until someone _might _come along and poison your meal! It's us or the Krogan, Fist! Decide, now!"

_**~[h+]~**_

Wrex wasn't happy. Sure, slaughtering the twenty-or-so thugs in that stairwell had brought a smile to his face, right up until one of them got clever and threw some kind of sticky mine at him. It stuck to his assault shotgun, and he quickly threw it down the stairwell, taking care of the four remaining idiots that were stupid enough to take shots at him from cover instead of running and hiding. Wrex wasn't the kind of guy that got sentimental over a weapon (he knew some old human merc that liked to give his guns _girl's_ _names_, of all things), but the Maxwell AS-24 could sling twelve-pellet shots at a rate of three hundred and forty rounds per minute. It could tear apart a fully armored adult Krogan in five seconds, and (if you had enough ammo blocks and kept the gun from overheating), you could keep an entire battalion at bay. Damn good gun. It was a shame to lose it.

_Heh, maybe I should have given it a name. It certainly deserved one. Oh well._

What really pissed him off though, was the fact that two thirds of his firepower just exploded downstairs. He still had his biotics and his _Carnifex_ with a bayonet stuck on the bottom mount. Scavenging something else was out: Fist apparently liked his mooks armed with crap.

And now Wrex was about to waste yet another breaching charge. Fantastic. He was pissing money away at this job, and he was thankful that the Shadow Broker always paid generously or there was no way he would make a profit.

The thick door leading to the VIP section exploded into molten metal, and Wrex stepped through, ready for another fight. Instead he found several humans and salarians lying down on the floor with their limbs either shot up or awkwardly bent into uselessness. There was one krogan, apparently a chef, who had a stun rod stuck in his eye. He was comatose, of course, but it seemed someone had gone out of his way to keep him and rest of these scum incapacitated, but alive.

_Somebody else is here. Did the Shadow Broker hire other mercs? Whoever did this is good. Kind of a pussy, but good._

There was a burst of gunfire from above the stairs leading to Fist's office, and someone screamed "Fist! No!"

Wrex hurried up the stairs and entered the office. A turian and a human were standing on each side of a steel desk, looking down at something obscured by the large piece of furniture. As he got closer, Wrex could feel the coppery scent of fresh human blood tickling the olfactory pits on the roof of his mouth. He had no problem putting two and two together, but what the turian said next pretty much confirmed what he already suspected.

"He just...Spirits! He just goes and chews on an assault rifle?" The turian stomped the corpse again and again, venting his rage. "YOU DON'T GET TO WALK AWAY LIKE THAT YOU PIECE OF-"

"Vakarian! Calm down!" ordered the human. He was also angry, but much, much more in control of himself. Wrex assumed he was in charge. "Look around, maybe there's something else we can find that'll give us the meeting's location! A pocket secretary, a post-it, an audio log, anything!"

Wrex cleared his throat, getting the attention of both men.

"You..._Idiots._"

_**~[h+]~**_

CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: MEDI-GEL: PANACEA

_Panacea is a Medi-Gel variant designed by Sirta Foundation to purge the body of contaminants, toxins, and allergens. It can be taken orally or injected directly, but once inside he body the genetically-engineered micro-organisms suspended in the protein solution identify and attack any foreign contaminants they come across. If they cannot break the contaminant down, they surround and encase its molecules and deposit them in the intestinal tract to be excreted from the body later. The latest formulas allow Panacea to counteract Anaphylactic shock. _

_Panacea's name has, unfortunately, caused some to believe it to be a cure-all capable of curing every single disease, especially sexually transmitted ones. Teenagers (and some adults) often engage in unprotected sex thinking a dose of Panacea before or after the act will prevent them from being infected._

_Sirta, sensing a market in the Citadel's Turian population, released Panacea Dextro. It is now a must have for the cosmopolitan turian civilian as well as the pioneer travelling in a hostile environment._

_**~[h+]~**_

DRUGS: RECREATIONAL: ILLEGAL: ZYME

_Zyme is a synthetic drug that appeared on earth during the 2050's. It was accidentally created by University student Myron Boone during an industrial fermentation experiment (hence the name, which mean "a ferment"), and had been the recreational drug of choice of Hollywood starlets and the homeless alike for centuries until the introduction of Red sand. While it does not have the same potent sensation of euphoria as Red Sand, The feeling of invincibility, heightened tolerance for pain and increased aggression it causes makes Zyme very useful as a cheap, easily available combat stim for up and coming mercenaries, terminus guerrilla and militant cults._

_Withdrawal symptoms include constipation, paranoia, and depression in the short term. The persistent, long term symptoms are delirium and memory loss._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>__Next time on Mass Effect: Human Revolution! A race against time to save a Quarian girl holding the key to saving the galaxy from Saren! Will Jensen and Vakarian find her before Saren's assassins do? Stay tuned for the next chapter coming...sometime next month. :(_

_I slipped several references in this chapter: Garrus mocking the notion of running around naked and bloody shooting people is a Kane and Lynch 2 one, and the "one drop of blood at a time" comment is an Order of the Stick one (Thog is another). The scene in which Jensen and Vakarian dive and shoot is a bit silly, but i have an excuse: I had been playing a bit too much Max Payne 3. Damn good game._

_Panacea is going to be important in next two chapters, I didn't just come up with it as a convenient excuse to keep Garrus alive. It also makes sense that there would be such a thing as Panacea: If the Deus Ex universe's humans has anything going for them, it's some damn impressive and diverse medical technology._


	8. Chapter 6: Bystander Effect

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

* * *

><p><strong>Mass Effect: Human Revolution<strong>

**Chapter 6: Bystander Effect**

**or**

**Chapter 6: I finally start putting some goddamned titles on these things.**

* * *

><p><strong>Shadow Broker file REX-054: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) Urdnot Wrex:**

_Wrex: Got your package. Thanks for the snazzy new phone. And the credit chit just warms my hearts._

_Anon: Glad to hear it. Check its menu. Inside the file folder titled "Job" you'll find the necessary intel for the task at hand. Names, faces, locations, maps._

_Wrex: Enemy composition?_

_Anon: Also there, but the gist of it? 64 light infantrymen mostly armed with barely decent SMGs and pistols. _

_Wrex: Yeah, i can see that in the file._

_Wrex: So...you'd like Fist alive?_

_Anon: Let's just say he has a few things to answer for, betraying us for Saren being one of them. Will that be a problem?_

_Wrex: Nah, no problem. But the Broker doesn't usually call me for live jobs. Plus, I hear Fist's been snorting his Greasels' Zyme supply pretty hard lately. He may force my hand._

_Anon: There's a first time for everything. Still, we won't be too sad if Fist were to suffer an unfortunate accident, but you won't be paid the full amount for his corpse._

_Anon: Just make sure you extract the Quarian as well, and secure any data storage media in Fist's office._

_Wrex: Right, the Quarian's the main objective?_

_Anon: Yes and no. We're far more interested in the intel she has in her Omni-Tool than her well-being. Still, we had an agreement with her and we'd like to try to hold up our end of the bargain. So, full fee for her brought in alive, half that for just the intel. No intel, no cash._

_Wrex: Did I mention that the Shadow Broker also used to give me simpler jobs? Find Target. Kill Target. Get paid. All these caveats and addendums are giving me a headache._

_Anon: You *could* hire some sub-contractors to hold your hand, if you'd like? _

_Wrex: Heh._

_Wrex: Nah, I want all the fun to myself. I'm greedy that way. Well, I have some shopping to do. I'll call you when I collar Fist._

_Wrex has left the conversation_

_**~[h+]~**_

**File REX-055: Transcript: Text Chat: Agent Brea (Anon) /Urdnot Wrex:**

_Anon: Yes?_

_Wrex: Things just got really, really interesting._

_Anon: Define interesting._

_Wrex: Fist is dead. Here's a picture._

_Anon: That's all? It wasn't unexpected. I'm transferring your 'dead' fee right now._

_Wrex: I didn't kill him. _

_Anon: Transfer done._

_Anon: Wait, What?_

_Wrex: Not directly anyways._

_Anon: Explain._

_Wrex: Two cops decided to give Fist a visit just as I made my grand entrance. They beat me to him. _

_Anon: And they killed him?_

_Wrex: No, they wanted to interrogate him. Turns out they wanted the Quarian too, but Fist killed himself before they could get anything out of him. _

_Anon: Why would he do that?_

_Wrex: I might have been harassing him just a little and let him think i was out to kill him. Thought I'd try messing with his head a little._

_Anon: ...It doesn't matter. Secure his files. Have you found the Quarian, at least?_

_Wrex: Nope. Turns out she wasn't even at Fist's club. As for Fist's files, well... good news and bad news. Good news: I know where she's going to be. Bad news: I had to let the cops take and crack Fist's files to get her location. She's headed for a trap laid by Saren, and we're headed for it right now. _

_Anon:...you left the cops alive? Not only that, you cooperate with them and let them get their hands on Fist's intel? Urdnot, what in the hell were you-_

_Wrex: Killing cops was never part of the job_. _They help me get the girl, They give me a copy of her intel, I give it to you. Everyone's happy. _

_Anon: That intel is worthless if those cops get a look at it._

_Wrex: It's no use to you or anyone if Saren gets his hands on it. _

_WrexI'll finish the job. Deal with the cops however you like. It's not my damned problem._

_Wrex has left the conversation_

_**~[h+]~**_

Wrex's 'phone' collapsed its keyboard and screen into itself to take the form of a box the size of a pack of cigarettes. He stuffed the box inside his legpack and put his hands on the haptic wheel, but didn't turn off the autopilot. His Skyvan's Nav computer was set to follow this crappy old Spinner, a model of hovercar that was a common before those damned X3Ms rose to practically monopolize the aircar market. The Spinner was pretty fast, though: way above Shuttle Standard. Wrex's van had to shove more electricity in its eezo core to keep up.

Wrex kinda wished those two cops riding the Spinner would let him go manual already. It wasn't every day that a merc like him got to drive on the Cop's Highway at high speed. Then again, it wasn't every day that he worked with cops, either. When he encountered the two C-Sec agents, he had thought that he was dealing with two bounty hunters and was sorely tempted to shoot them for screwing him out of two million credits. When the human called the Turian by his name though, Wrex suddenly knew who he was dealing with.

Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian. The Citadel's two resident super-cops. The two of them had caught some of the station's nastiest killers and the criminals that got in their way tended to wind up crippled, comatose, dead or some combination thereof. Rumor had it that the just between the two of them the Citadel's crime rate had dropped seven percent.

Wrex was pretty confident he could have taken them. Too bad it simply wasn't worth it. Two reasons: Fitst, killing cops was always a bad idea, especially if their pals knew who did it. Most cops couldn't be bothered to find the one responsible for killing some poor duct rat kid in the Upper Wards, but Holy Void did they come down hard on a cop killer. Second, killing these two wouldn't have gotten him any closer to the Quarian, as it turned out she wasn't hiding out at Fist's at all. Wrex was a good tracker, but sifting through electronic paper and files wasn't his strong suit. As luck would have it, Jensen and Vakarian were very tech saavy and had extracted the girl's location from Fist's encrypted files.

And so an odd, if temporary, partnership was formed (at gunpoint): The Turian saw the value of having a Krogan bounty hunter around for sniffing out their quarry if she decided to run and hide (and, you know, soaking in bullets if Saren's men attacked them). Wrex saw the value in working with cops, if only to keep the rest of C-Sec off his back (and, you know, those two could soak bullets if Saren's men attacked him). The human was more inclined to make an arrest than cooperating, but Vakarian had made a good point.

They were headed for Upper Zakera. Despite what 'upper' implied, Upper Zakera wasn't a nice place. It was as close to a slum as you could get on the Citadel. The rich and the influential wanted to be as close as possible to the presidium ring and Tower (the 'Lower' reaches, from the tower's perspective). Consequently, the poor shifted towards the Upper reaches of the Wards. Zakera Ward's upper slum district wasn't quite as bad as the others on account that a steady trickle of stolen goods came into the district and was distributed around the area by the Bazaar. Still, that didn't mean it was safe for rich(er) folk to travel there, and cops were certainly not welcome as people there preferred to make their own justice.

Jensen's Spinner parked itself in a berth just twenty meters away from the meeting place, on a busy street close to the bazaar. Wrex took control of his hover van and parked it near the Spinner, turned off his vehicle's engines and got out. He took in the smell of the place and smiled. In any other part of the Citadel just smelled too damned clean. This place reeked of stale piss and vomit, old blood and older meat, spices and drugs, trash and wood. Most of these smells came from Upper Zakera's Bazaar, carried over by the wind generators that kept the Citadel's air from becoming too stale. Junk supported by plaster, wood and nails was mounted on low-rise buildings as improvised cheap housing inhabited by colorfully dressed poor people. It was Wrex's kind of place, a pressure cooker filled with potential violence, heated by bitterness and starvation, ready to explode into a riot. And there would be a riot: the big wigs at the Presidium instituted regulations and laws that slowly robbed the denizens of the Upper Wards their rights to live there in some snobbish, high handed attempt to 'clean up' the Citadel. Bad idea: food may be hard to come by in these slums, but guns were common and cheap.

_Maybe I ought to stay here a while. Get front row seats to the spectacle. Business first, though._

Wrex took a swig of Ryncol from his flask, and made his way towards the cops. It was time to do this.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Stay in the car," commanded Jensen as he left the vehicle.

"I'm _fine,_ Jensen! I can hardly feel the stinging anymore. I can-"

"I'm not benching you," Jensen half-lied. "I need you to be my eyes in the sky. If the Quarian isn't there or if Saren's men attack us, then we might need air support."

Garrus still didn't like it, but he knew better than to argue at the moment. He moved into the Spinner's driver's seat and took control of the craft. "Alright... Spirits, I hate driving this old piece of crap. Does this thing have guns?"

"Nope." Jensen was going to mount a heavy P.E.P.S between the prongs but couldn't get his hands on the necessary permits. Jensen pointed at the comm headset on the dashboard. "Keep a channel open."

"Will do." Vakarian closed the Spinner's side door and Jensen watched as the old vehicle rose into the pale, purple sky. The human cop was soon joined by the Krogan mercenary, who had just parked his van.

"What, he's sitting this one out?" asked Wrex.

"Air support," answered Jensen as he started his stride, crossing a street busier with foot traffic than ground cars.

"Smart." stated Wrex as he followed the cop. "What kind of guns did you put on that car?"

"None."

Wrex snorted. "Well, that's going be some crappy air support, then."

Adam hid his annoyance. "Just try to keep up."

_**~[h+]~**_

"You're late," said the barefaced Turian in front of Tali. His voice was deep and rumbling, and his skin was an unusual shade of pale green veined in blue. He was dressed in a black bodysuit made of ballistic cloth, and Tali's HUD highlighted the presence of small eezo signatures - the central components in hard-suit shields. These were tier VII, at least. She wasn't sure her shotgun could overcome them, should things turn sour. The Turian was also carrying a _Cicada_ _Mk V _machine pistol on his hip, outclassing her firepower completely. She was glad that she had left a few surprises hidden in the trashcans around the two alley's crossing...

"Have you brought it?" asked the same voice behind her. Tali looked behind her, startled. She beheld the same face staring down at her with pale blue eyes. She had to admit that she had a hard time telling Turians apart unless they had a different skin tone or colonial markings painted on their face, but these two albino Turians just _had_ to be twins.

"What is this? Where's Fist? Where's the Shadow Broker?"

"They are not coming," said the same voice from the backstreet on the right. A Triplet? He and two Salarians had come out of shadows.

"You have been betrayed," again, the same voice! This time from the left, with three Salarians. Clones! These Turians had to be clones! And now they surrounded her!

"Your life is forfeit," said the clone in front of her. Before she could reach for her shotgun, the clone behind her seized her from behind with a bear hug. He was strong, and she could feel her ribs strain under the pressure.

"Tell us where you hid the data," said the clone holding her, "and your passing will be quick. Resist, and you will die..." She pressed his mandibles on the side of her neck. "..._screaming._"

Tali's answer came with the glow and beep of her Omni-tool. "No deal, _bosh'tet._"

_**~[h+]~**_

_Boom._

Jensen was beginning to hate that sound. _Nothing_ good ever came out of that sound.

"I know that noise!" said Wrex. "Landmines, Flash-built by an Omni-Tool. Our Quarian's here!"

Garrus' voice came through loud on Jensen's earpiece: "Jensen! I'm right over the meeting spot! There's a cloud of thick smoke over it!"

Jensen's stride turned into a sprint and he left the Krogan merc behind. He had to hurry!

"Vakarian! Scan the place!"

"Already on it! I've got 10 blips, and seven of them are fading fast! One of them is making a bee line for the Bazaar - It's the Quarian!"

_She's alive. Thank god. _Adam turned around a corner and came across an intersection of two backstreets. It was, indeed, full a smoke, prompting Adam to turn on his Smart Vision before entering the cloud. He could make out the golden outlines of seven bodies - five salarians, two turians - who had died from the trauma of a pressure wave. He choked on the smell of rotting bodies, and realized quickly how odd it was that the Turians were already decomposing before his very eyes. His Implanted Rebreather kicked in, and reported the presence of toxins in the air. What had the Quarian used in her explosives?

"Two blips are moving after her!"

Jensen cleared the cloud of smoke and saw two pale green turians chasing the Quarian girl down the small alley. She had a head start, but these two turians were excellent sprinters, and would catch up to her in seconds. Jensen was much, _much_ faster, but he was at least twenty meters away. By the time he caught up to them, they'd be right on top of the Quarian. Not wanting this to turn into a hostage situation or worse, Adam drew his HK-23 from its holster and aimed at the closest Turian.

_**~[h+]~**_

The clones were getting closer, and Tali knew it. Her sensors relayed their presence into her HUD, and they were catching up faster than she had thought possible. She prayed that her legs would let her make it to the Bazaar, where there would be plenty of people, hurdles, twists and turns she could use to lose her pursuers.

Someone shouted something about...frost? And Tali heard the report of the _Cicada_. When Tali's shield capacitors failed to drain, her curiosity took over, and she looked back at her pursuers. As it turned out, they seemed to be pursued themselves by a human man in a long blue coat. He was running and gunning at them, his gun strangely unwavering and aimed at their faces as it fired. Their shields easily absorbed the bullets, but the mass effect flashes that peppered their faces threw off their aim and their counter attacks went wide. They tried to compensate by shooting continuously, but the human was undaunted and the clone's guns went into Emergency Cooldown Mode. Whoever that human was, he had bought Tali precious time.

"Hold him off!" commanded the clone that had held her from behind. He had thrown away his heavy pistol in a fit of rage and frustration. "The suit rat is _mine_!" He disengaged from the human firing at them and resumed the chase. Tali, running on the Quarian analog to adrenaline, pushed herself to run faster and harder than ever.

_**~[h+]~**_

_Damned military-grade shields, _Adam cursed inwardly. He really should have known that a Spectre's underlings would have access to superior gear. He fired fifteen rounds into each of the Turian men's heads and their shields held at 70 percent. It had, fortunately, distracted them long enough for the Quarian to get away into the Bazaar. A chase with bystanders in the way was tricky even for an olympic sprinter.

Both of Saren's men had foolishly let their guns overheat in an attempt to scare off Jensen, and he saw an opportunity to finish this hand-to-hand. One of the pale green turians holstered his overheated weapon and stood his ground, another attempt at delaying Adam while his partner kept chasing the Turian. He rushed the Turian, ready to bury a carbon fist in his face.

Instead, Adam found himself slammed against the wall, a painful reminder that he wasn't the only one trained in CQC throws. Thankfully, his body armor and his Rhino Dermal implants had soaked much of the impact, sparing his torso's bones. He recovered quickly, and attempted to shoot the Turian's thigh at point blank range, well past the minimum range of his kinetic barriers. Instead, the Turian quickly grabbed Adam's HK-23 by the barrel and attempt a disarm by twisting the gun sideways, using the gun's trigger guard to break the cop's finger. Adam's grip held fast, though, and what wound up breaking instead was the entire weapon.

_This guy's fast, and incredibly strong. It's time to get serious._

The Turian quickly pulled his freshly cooled machine pistol in an attempt to do unto Jensen as he had tried to do unto him. Jensen reacted by slapping the gun away with his left hand and buried the incredibly hot ruins of his pistol into the Turian's left eye. He did not scream, even as he could feel the precious, tiny ball of jelly boil away and his response was to swat Jensen's gun arm away and headbutt him. Stunned, Jensen could do nothing as the Turian seized him by the collar and threw him away like a ragdoll into a nearby pile of trashcans. Jensen recovered quickly and got back on his feet. The Turian withdrew his knife, and took on stance, ready to stab Jensen in the belly. It was time to finish this.

Adam triggered his Quicksilver Reflex Booster with a thought, and the world slowed down. He took on a defensive stance, and planned his next moves.

_He only looks like he's going to strike low. Telegraphing on purpose. Too much protection on my chest, and he's probably figured out my arms aren't flesh. Will attempt to slash throat with his right hand. Block with right arm, extend left arm-blade and stab into his left elbow. Will ignore pain and attempt a heel kick to the stomach. Cannot allow this. Retract blade immediately, step on foot. Grab wrist with right hand, grab back quills with right hand and throw him on his back. Severed tendons on right arm, broken leg and trauma to the back of the skull will incapacitate him enough for him to be secured with flash-cuffs._

The Turian had formulated moves on his own, and both men executed them.

Well, they would have. What actually happened was that a biotically accelerated eight-hundred pound Krogan in dark red armour tackled the Turian down on the floor. He then roared and headbutted him, and the Turian's skull exploded, his brains and eyes splattered against the concrete. Urdnot Wrex stood up and looked down at his kill, feeling a bit proud of himself as he rubbed the dark blue blood from his crest. Splatter like that was _art _on Tuchanka.

Jensen was angry. He had the situation under control, and then some dinosaur just charges in and-

"If milady is done _dancing,_" said Wrex, "We've got a Quarian to save!"

Before he could argue back, the rest of Turian's body started to _melt_. A thin green miasma emanated from its now exposed ribcage. Adam's internal rebreather activated, warning him that the gas was toxic. "What in the hell..."

Wrex answered the question: "Pharm-Augs. These birds marinated themselves in a vat of green gunk or something. Nice and cheap way to make mutant supersoldiers out in the Terminus."

_Supersoldiers. And you let one of them get away. Goddamn you, Adam. If she dies, it's on you._

_"...It's all on you, bratán." _Garvin Quinn's damning voice echoed inside Jensen's head.

Garrus' voice came over Jensen's headset. "...Jensen."

_No. Please, no..._

"...We've got a problem."

_**~[h+]~**_

Tali toppled a garbage can over, and her pursuer stumbled and fell. It bought her more time, more time to run, more time to make her way to the middle of the bazaar, where the thicker crowd would hide her. She dodged and weaved across the foot traffic; many heads turned out of curiosity, bodies moved out of the way out of worry, but not a soul intevened on her behalf. Did they not care that she was being chased? Did they not see the violence in that Turian's eyes?

_It's none of my business. Someone else with take care of this._

These few simple words had damned so many before her. Women had been raped in front of whole crowds. Men whose only crime was being born with the wrong skin color had been publicly beaten to death. The people had been allowed to commit these crimes because of these words.

For Quarians, there were another two words that could doom them just as easily.

"Stop, thief!"

The pale-green Turian clone, in a moment of brilliance, bellowed the two worst words a young Quarian on her pilgrimage could hear. Before long, looks of worry and curiosity were replaced by expressions of disgust and scorn. Quarians were filthy, dirty little thieves and vagabonds. Everyone suspected them, and they were just waiting for confirmation, an excuse to punish them like the dogs they were.

Tali kept running, hoping to escape the stares. She drew out her shotgun, hoping to intimidate anyone thinking about putting their hands on her.

"Stop, thief!"

Fresh stares of disgust and hate...

"Thief!"

...and then finally, action.

Javier and Hector were two teenage boys, barely eighteen, bored out of their minds and looking for some excitement. When some deep rumbling voice shouted something about a thief and they saw some suit-rat bitch running towards them, they knew they had found it.

They acted like they were going to get out of her way, but just as she passed them, they stuck their feet out, tripping her. She fell face first onto the dirty concrete and her visor cracked slightly. Her shotgun clattered away from her reach.

Two words, and two boys, and she had been caught.

_**~[h+]~**_

Garrus desperately tried to find the girl on his sensors, but all he found where a multitude of life signs. Once she had reached the bazaar, she practically vanished in plain sight. While Jensen had spent a pretty penny outfitting the old aircar with decent sensors, but they weren't exactly cutting edge: they couldn't quite tell the difference between a Quarian and Vorcha. Eyeballing it was out of the question: too much motion, too much color. Poor people had an eclectic sense of fashion.

It occurred to him that no Quarian ever leaves the Flotilla without personal shielding, and he altered the sensor settings to scan for element zero signatures. He found several, but he was interested in the two strong ones that were moving fast throughout the bazaar. It had to be the Quarian and her pursuer.

Then one of the blips stopped.

Garrus realized what just happened and commed Jensen.

"...Jensen, we've got a problem. I've got a lock on the Quarian, she's alive, but she's been immobilized. She's sixty meters from where you are, tipward. "

Vakarian could hear a sigh of relief over the comm. "We're on our way. Can you do anything to help her?"

"Short of crashing the Spinner on top of Saren's goon? Street's too crowded to land on it, and the nearest landing spot is on top of a building four stories high. I'm headed for it now, I might be able to take potshots at him-"

"You are NOT firing into a crowded street! You'll cause a panic!"

Garrus hovered above where the Quarian had stopped and turned activated the Spinner's cameras. The girl was being held by the arms by two tall human...teenagers? They couldn't have been working for Saren...

_**~[h+]~**_

They held her by the arms. Two tall boys on the edge of being men. They looked so skinny, yet they had a wiry strength to them that made their grips strong. Tali struggled to free herself, but the boys held fast. Her exhaustion started catching up with her legs and lungs: Quarians did their best to keep fit, but there wasn't much opportunity to practice long distance sprinting in the crowded ships of the Flotilla.

The Turian clone slowly approached with murder in his eyes.

"Let me go! I didn't steal anything from him!"

"Shut up!" shouted the taller of the boys on her right as he kneed her in the belly. His name was Hector, his father was an EVA certified construction worker, and he was miserable because Quarians had come along and robbed him of his job. Every single job he had. It's what he said, after the drinks.

Before the beatings.

Quarians made Hector's life miserable. His father said so, and so he hated Quarians. He didn't give half a rat's ass if she was innocent or not. He knew she'd suffer. He wanted her too.

The Turian got closer and he withdrew a knife.

Javier was worried, now. He had just wanted some excitement and had hoped for a little reward for his heroism. But that Turian was trouble, he could feel it.

Something clicked under Hector's chin.

Hector didn't think quarians had weapons mounted on their wrists, and didn't think much of holding their arms in such a way as to keep their hands away from beneath her Jaw. He really should have, the mini-crossbow mounted on the Quarian's wrist might've been pointed at something slightly less vital than his brains.

Hector's eyes widened. Tali's voice went cold. "Let me go. _Now._"

Time froze, and Hector briefly considered letting her go...but somewhere in the back of his head, his father's voice held dominion.

_It's all their fault._

It was their fault they were poor. It was their fault his father kept drinking, no matter how much Mama begged him to stop. It was their fault they lived in his hole. It was their fault he couldn't go to school.

_It's all *her* fault._

He tried twisting her wrist away, but he wasn't aware of one important fact: the mini-crossbow was wired to Tali's nervous system via her suit. The start he gave her galvanized her nerves, and she involuntarily sent the signal to loose the bolt.

Hector had died slowly, and his body went limp.

Javier, too shocked to process what had happened, didn't resist as Tali threw him at the Turian and dove for her shotgun. He could barely feel the turian's talon as it sliced his belly and his intestines spilled onto the ground. He said "mom?", over and over, until the light finally left his eyes.

The Turian, drunk on blood, was on top of Tali in less than a second, pining her to the ground. Soon, it would be over, and he would bring the Quarian's head to he Master. He raised his knife triumphantly, aiming for her skull. His mandibles flared and his mouth opened in a shout of victory.

_Bang._

His head exploded from behind, the buckshot at point blank having torn its way through his brain. The rest of his body slumped besides Tali, and she pushed the corpse off herself. A crowd was forming around her. Various, multiracial expressions of shock, disgust and horror at what had just happened surrounded her.

Then the green gas emanating from the Turian's corpse reached the lungs in the crowd, and more innocent people started to die.

_**~[h+]~**_

The crowd was panicked. Wrex and Jensen tried to make their way to the Quarian, but it was like swimming against the flow of a river. Adam attempted to use his free running skills to bypass the flow of panicked people coming his way, but it was no use: there weren't any alternate paths to take. No walkways, no arrays of crates, nothing. By the time the merc and the cop got to the coordinates Garrus gave them, the Quarian was long gone. In her place were the corpses of a dozen men and a women.

A few children. Gas didn't discriminate.

At the center of the scene were the molten remains of the Turian assassin inside a body suit, and the bodies of two teenage boys. One of them had a bolt sticking out the top of his skull. Another had been gutted, no doubt by the assassin by the look of his bloody knife.

There was a rumble in the ground, and shouts in the air. News was spreading of this. A riot was coming, he was certain of it.

"...Vakarian," Adam spoke to his headset. "...tell me you've got her."

_**~[h+]~**_

_Oh Keelah, what have i done what have I done I couldn't have known about that toxin inside of him I just wanted to scare that boy why did he hate me so much why didn't he just let me go I'm so sorry I just want to live_

It wasn't over. She was starting to think it would never be over. As she hacked through the sewer's manhole, a mob had formed in the distance, made from people who had borne witness to her leaving the scene of the massacre. They were walking intently towards her, rage in their eyes and various improvised weapons in hand.

_Hurry_

A blue aircar with two prongs in front landed with a loud crash, blocking the way of the mob. A Turian came out, a heavy pistol in hand. He was armored in an orange and tiger strip Phantom armor. He drew a huge pistol and fired it in the air, its report and blue flash cowing everyone. He turned to her.

_No no no hurry_

The manhole bleeped and its lights glowed green as it opened. Tali got in immediately.

"Wait! I'm with C-sec! I'm here to help you!" shouted the Turian as he ran towards her.

_No it's a trick C-Sec doesn't come here he's lying he is with Saren he wants to kill you_

She entered the sewers and closed the manhole. Its locks engaged and its electronics exploded, blooming into sparks. The Turian swore as he tried to open it, but no one would be doing that any time soon. Not even the men who had tried to save her.

"Jensen?" said Vakarian, his breath short, into his headset. "No, I haven't got her. She's went into the sewers. I've lost her."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: MEDICINE: AUGMENTATION:<p>

PHYSIOPHARMACEUTICAL AUGMENTATION.

_Physiopharmaceutical augmentation (or Pharm-Aug for short) is a type of augmentation that involves treating a subject with various pharmaceutical drugs and mutagens to enhance his or her physical and even biotic capabilities. Psychological conditioning can even decrease reflex reaction times and increase pain tolerance nearly to the point of anesthesia. It is sometimes used as an alternative to gene-modification._

_For all the advantages Pharm-aug can provide, it is not without its flaws: side effects of the chemical treatments include depigmentation of the skin and severe alteration of the vocal cords, giving a Pharm-Aug a freakish appearance. The more invasive Pharm-Aug processes can halve someone's life expectancy. Terrorist organizations use certain pharmaceuticals to transform willing (and sometimes unwilling) hosts into toxic suicide bombers._

_The process rose to prevalence throughout the Terminus systems as a cheap method of creating an army of supersoldiers. The cheaper, easier to maintain augmentation method (besides the existence of biotics) is one of the primary reasons why mechanical augmentation, which its high maintenance costs, was phased out throughout the galaxy_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes:<strong>__ Tali's going to need a big hug when this is over. :(_

_I wonder who could this agent Brea be? :)_

_So. Space Favella. What the heck, right? I decided to have the Upper wards become the slums of the Citadel because its one of the staples of the cyberpunk genre: A sharp divide between the rich who lives in the glamourous spires of the station, and the poor, who live in old concrete buildings with junky shacks congesting the streets. Why concrete on the Citadel? I know the station is made of metal, but I always found that a city made completely of metal kinda broke my suspension of disbelief._

_Two million credits sounds like a lot for a bounty, but when you consider books can cost 1000 credits from a Citadel vending machine, it makes you think... My personal conversion rate from Credit to American Dollar is 100:1. _

_So, 2.000.000 Creds = 20.000 US Dollars._

_Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Up next on Mass Effect: Human Revolution? Riots! Lynch mobs! A sewer level! Tune in next week!_


	9. Chapter 7: The girl in Indigo

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**Chapter 7: The girl in Indigo**

**or**

**When Tali met Detective Adam Jensen**

* * *

><p>"You know, this has got to be the cleanest, nicest smelling sewer I've ever been in," said Wrex after sucking in a lungful of air. It was indeed impeccable: the walls were polished dark brass, and the floor was made of gleaming, seamless ceramic of a matching color. The flow of waste that divided the floor was the only filth here, and it was contained in a cylindrical mass effect field that kept it a centimeter apart from the pristine ceramic. Wide fluorescent strips on the floor and ceiling cast a green gloom on a Krogan, a Turian and a Human cyborg, the three men that had come to save a Quarian girl from a rogue Spectre's assassins. The assassin's were all dead, mostly through the girl's combined use of flash-built explosives, paranoia, and a shotgun. Now, the goal had shifted from rescuing her from Saren's men to rescuing her from the fifty thousand squatters who were enraged at coming under chemical attack. Thirty people had died slow, agonizing deaths, and their friends and family were looking for the one that was apparently responsible.<p>

Ultimately, it was Saren's fault for sending in Pharm-Aug'd Turians modified with Self-Termination systems after an armed Quarian in a crowded slum. But Quarians, of course, made for more convenient scapegoats for everyone else's problems.

Said Quarian had escaped into the sewers and locked the manhole behind her, not knowing that she had inadvertently cut herself off from rescue. The three men had to find another way in, and the closest manhole they could find was one hundred and fifty meters away. By the time they got to her last known location in the sewers, she was long gone into the maze of tunnels funneling Zakera Ward's liquid filth to the nearest processing plant.

Fortunately, Wrex caught her scent.

It was, of course, the same scent that stuck on every Quarian: a mixture of leather, plastic, dyed cloth and disinfectant. It wasn't hard to track it thanks to the level of cleanliness in which the Keepers kept these sewers. With his 'nose', Wrex led the group towards the Presidium, then spin-ward, then tip-ward and then spin ward again. It was then that the Krogan caught other scents, the kind that belonged to angry animals: Humans, mostly, but also some Drell, Salarians...and Greasels.

"Some rioters came down here," stated Wrex, "looking for her with pet Greasels."

"...Think they found her?" asked Garrus. He didn't dare voice his concerns: a bite from the nasty critters could easily breach the Quarian's suit and infect her with something. And then they'd start to feed...

"I don't smell blood, but damn if she hasn't led them on a merry chase, I can smell them all over this place!"

"She could have set traps for them, but I didn't hear any explosions. She couldn't have run out of Omni-Gel so quickly..."

"...She didn't want to see any more people die," said Adam. "Least of all because of her."

"Aw, Void!" cursed the Krogan. "Someone tries to kill you, you kill them right back! If she doesn't-"

Faint gunfire echoed from the tunnels, then an explosion roared through them.

"-speaking of Tech Mines."

"It's our Quarian!" declared Garrus. "She must be under attack!"

Adam ran in the direction of the blasts, going as fast as he possibly could - only to encounter thick metal bars in his way. There was no way he'd fit between them. He grabbed two bars and tried widening the gap between them, but they simply would not budge.

"God dammit!" he cursed through clenched teeth.

"Stand back!" shouted Wrex as his fist glowed a fierce blue in the green gloom. "I'll soften them up!"

Jensen complied, and the Krogan Battlemaster threw a Wide Area Warp bolt at the bars. In less than a minute their molecular density had been corrupted so much that both Jensen and Wrex could bend them far apart enough to fit through. They had to widen it for a Krogan, though, and the whole process had taken far too long for anyone's liking, but trying to get around the barred way would have gotten them lost: The Protheans liked their sewers complex.

More gunfire, shouts of victory and then... nothing.

They had little choice but to keep following Wrex's 'nose', and they encountered another set of bars.

"You're _certain _that's the way?" queried Adam.

"Smells are getting stronger that way." answered the Krogan as he released a Warp blast at the bars. When the biotic energies had done their work, he grabbed a corrupted metal rod. "Let's get to work."

_**~[h+}~**_

Once again, they were too late. They had to overcome yet one more set of bars and they had encountered a search party composed of three Humans, a Salarian and a Drell. Both situations had been easily dealt with, but it had taken precious time to do so.

Wrex stated that the Quarian's scent was at its strongest in the spot they were standing on, and yet, she wasn't here. Instead there was the corpse of a Greasel with blood in its mouth with its belly torn by buckshot, gunshot marks on the walls and spent thermal caps glowing orange in the green gloom. The blood was a shade of dark purple, and after Wrex had seized the lizard's head and sniffed its bloody maw, he confirmed Garrus' fears: the blood was the Quarian's. The Greasel had bitten her right through her suit.

A metal ladder was nearby, leading to a manhole and the world above. At the bottom of the ladder was a small black box the size and shape of a cigarette pack, but curved to fit on someone's wrist and dotted with lenses and studs. It was an Omni tool, and Jensen knelt, picking it up. As he did, a haptic button appeared on its surface, asking to be pressed. Jensen obliged, and on the palm of his hand a hologram took the form of a young Quarian woman. She was wearing a dark blue-gray high-tech full body suit wrapped with faded indigo cloth strips patterned with curved white lines. She was slumped against an invisible wall, shotgun in hand, her suit ruined at the leg. She looked so weak and vulnerable...

"_I don't know who you are... Maybe you're a Vorcha looking for something to kill or sell or eat. Maybe you're a mindless keeper cleaning up a mess. You might even be one of the men who wanted me dead. I know there's no way I can convince you to keep listening to this, but I don't care: I have to take the chance- the small, precious chance that - that you might care. _

_Oh Keelah, I'm recording my last words in a sewer..."_

She started coughing, but repressed it and continued. Garrus was watching the recording as well, over Adam's shoulder.

_"My name is Tali'Zorah, child of the Rayya. I don't remember much from the early years of my life, as i spent it like all Quarian children: learning about our history, learning how to fix a ship, learning how to survive aboard a ship and outside of it. I was like all the other children, save for one detail: My father is Admiral Rael'Zorah, a leader and storied hero amongst our people. Things were expected of me. Greater things, and I was never allowed to forget it, right up to my Pilgrimage._

_I spent a whole year looking for something to bring back, along with another young Quarian on his own Pilgrimage. His name was Keenah'Breizh, child of the Moreh, and early on we had managed to find an old corvette: it was old, fitted with VTOL plasma jets and had an oversized eezo drive on its aft, but it was a good ship...with a good soul. A good enough gift for any Quarian to bring back to the fleet and be welcomed into a crew. But it wasn't good enough for a Zorah. Things were expected of me, and Keenah - ancestors bless him - was kind enough to help me look. _

_He's dead now, because of me._

_...Noveria. We flew over the surface, scanning for anything of value. What we found instead...were Geth, beyond the Veil. We managed to isolate one and salvage its memory core, and what we found inside was horrible: Attack plans for an imminent attack on Eden Prime, and a recording implicating a Turian named Saren. He ordered the slaughter of...thousands? Millions? And he did it by unleashing an uncaring, unfeeling machine horde upon these people. Kennah and I knew it was too late for these people, and then came the time to do something with the core we had salvaged. I could have gone home, offered up the core to a captain and bring an end to my Pilgrimage. But I knew how insular we can be, and I knew that once the core was in the hands of the Admirals it would never leave see the light of day again. Nobody would know who was responsible for these deaths. That was fine with Keenah, It would have been fine for anyone else. _

_But not me. _

_I decided- no, I KNEW I had to do the right thing. I came here, hoping to speak for the dead and point at their murderer for all to see and punish. But no one wanted to listen to me. No one would speak for me. No one moved a finger when I was shot through the arm with poisoned bullets, and that bosh'tet doctor wanted triple the price for treatment. When I tried to give the police the evidence, they spat at me, shoved me away, yelled at me, threatened my life simply because my mere presence ruined their day. When I tried to contact the human government, I was given the same treatment. I had the very proof that they needed, and they did not care. Everywhere I went, nobody cared._

_And because of they did not care...h-here I am, about to die in the dark where-"_

She coughed. There was the chirping sound ofGreasels on the prowl in the distance, and it startled her. Wrex was now watching, looking over Jensen's shoulder.

_"I don't have much time..." she whimpered. "Too...weak to...climb..." she was laughing weakly, and bitterly. "...Inside this Omni-tool you'll find proof of Saren's crimes, and...and I-I hope that you don't delete it. I hope that you speak for the fallen. I hope that you prove some small thing, a small, tiny, but precious thing to me: that there's one other person in this whole galaxy that... that LISTENED to this, and cared, and did the right thing when it was so much easier to do nothing. If you are that person, then i want you to understand what I mean when I tell you that even if we will never meet, even if we will never laugh or cry together...I..."_

Someone shouted. She had been seen. Her sobbing image fizzled out into a cloud of static, and sounds of gunfire roared from the Omni tool's speakers, then there was some screaming – hers - and shouts of victory.

The recording did not stop there.

_"Hey, boss! We got her!" _It was the voice of a Salarian, doing his best to sound tough.

_"Hold her down,"_ ordered a human with a deep baritone.

_"We're trying!"_ shouted another, younger human. _"Bitch! You better stop that or I'm gonna fuck you bloody! You killed my Ma, bitch! You killed her! What did she ever do to you, huh? YOU LOOK AT ME WHEN I TALK TO YOU!"_

_"Don't break the helmet, man!"_ pleaded the Salarian over the sound of crying. _"She won't last long without it!"_

_"Lay off, Roach," _commanded the baritone_. "You're not the only one who wants to see the suit rats pay. Father Sandy was clear: bring them in live."_

There was more sound of struggling, and Baritone spoke again. _"Up the manhole. We got a ground van on the way to take us to the plaza."_

_"Father Sandy put the word out?" _asked Roach.

_"Yeah, it's gonna be quite a party: we got three more rats like her chained up for all to watch. Today we're all getting some justice."_

Some cheers, the sound of a manhole opening, the clatter of the Omni Tool's mic banging against the hard ceramic floor, and then nothing else came out of the speakers.

Adam, Wrex and Garrus stood there, silently processing what had just happened. It was Wrex who broke the silence. "Well, so much for the full bounty. At least we got your proof."

Adam rose, making a copy of the data on his Omni-Tool. He threw the Quarian's Omni-Tool at the Krogan, who caught it with a smile. Data secured, Quarian's as good as dead. Shame about that last part, but the job's done. Time to go home and get paid. But Jensen wasn't thinking about walking away. Wrex's eyes widened when the human cop started climbing the ladder. "Hey! There's nothing but trouble up there, we can safely exit somewhere else."

Jensen threw a dirty look at the merc as he kept climbing.

"Ha, I know that look in your eye! I've seen it a thousand times before: Some damsel's in distress and some dumb young turk gets all heroic and stupid and thinks he's a one man army! You've seen her suit! She's infected, and not long for the Void!"

Adam opened the manhole. His face was bathed with cool, fresh air, and noise rushed inside the sewers. The noise was the clamor of an enraged people, with gunfire and cheering mixed in for good measure. Jensen rose up into the world above.

"You hear that? There's thousands of them up there! If disease hasn't finished her you can bet they're going to hang her soon or worse. Cut your losses. Walk. away. You've got Saren by the balls!"

Garrus followed Jensen up.

"You know what?" said Wrex with a bitter chuckle as he holstered his gun. "I forgot that I didn't give a damn about either of you. Go on and _die_, idiots." He turned ring-ward, away from the insanity, and walked away. It was the smart thing to do: even Krogan were no match for an enraged, rioting mob. And while Wrex was no ordinary Krogan, he hadn't survived all these centuries by taking moronic risks for a few million credits. It simply wasn't worth it. Let young fools be young fools.

He walked on, ever ring-ward. But try as he might, he could not stop himself from looking back.

_**~[h+}~**_

"We got a plan?" asked Garrus as he checked his Mongoose pistol while following a striding Jensen.

"Yeah." answered Jensen as he handed a bundle of leather with Jensen's Omni-tool on top of it. "You get back to the car and you hover around the plaza and you wait for me to call on you. If you don't get the call, then you drive away full speed and get the evidence to someone who can use it. Who WILL use it. Give me a hypo Panacea: She'll need it ASAP."

Garrus holstered his gun, withdrew a Panacea Dextro hypos from his pack and traded it for the bundle.

"Jensen, you don't have to do this alone. I started this, let me be there to finish-"

"No arguing." said Jensen has he checked his newly acquired Cicada machine pistol's ammo block. "It's five minutes as the crow flies on foot towards the plaza, and with all the congestion on the ground that van's going to need half an hour at least to get there. I can get there before they do - maybe even intercept them. If not...public executions take time to set up."

Garrus checked the map on Jensen's Omni Tool. It was indeed five minutes on foot to the plaza. Five minutes - for a man with mechanical legs and rooftop parkour skills. The Spinner, meanwhile, was twenty minutes away - for a wounded Turian running on meds - in the other direction, away from the plaza. Garrus sighed. He'd only slow Jensen down.

As Adam started climbing a nearby low-rise, intending to use the Thieves' highway - the rooftops - to avoid the crowds and save time, Garrus couldn't help blaming himself for the whole situation. He recalled that question in the elevator, almost half a day ago.

_"…I'm still in. You need me to tag along?"_

_I should have said yes._ _Spirits, I should have said yes. We might have avoided all this. _He started his sprint towards the Spinner, pushing - or punishing - his legs harder than ever.

_**~[h+}~**_

Veetor'Nara had not thought his day could have gotten any worse. He had been busy fixing plumbing for Mrs. Manley, a round dark-skinned human woman with a funny accent who kept offering delicious looking (but sadly poisonous) food for his services. Then suddenly several armed humans came barging in, screaming something about Quarians and murderers and death, and they meant to take him someplace where 'everyone would see him pay for his crimes'. Manley had been indignant at the intruders, and promptly came to Veetor's defense with her cane. Veetor had always liked Mrs. Manley. She always had a nice meal ready for him whenever he visited, even though he couldn't eat it and she didn't seem to understand the biological barriers that prevented him from enjoying it. She had cared enough to try and keep him fed, and he suspected that the reason her kitchen sink always 'broke' was because she liked his company. In many ways, Veetor thought of Manley as the fussy grandmother he never had.

When the angry ones shot her in the belly and left her for dead, Veetor's heart broke.

He had been thrust into the back of a Van along with a child. And, just as Veetor thought things couldn't get any worse, someone unceremoniously threw inside the van a barely conscious Quarian woman soon after. She was wounded and feverish, and there was a bloody tear on her suit's left leg, as if a varren had bitten through it. Veetor's felt terror wash over his mind at the implications of this: the mouths of animals were the worst kind of breeding ground for all kinds of horrible germs, and a Quarian getting bit by a beast is almost a death sentence. She'd have an hour, maybe minutes to live if he did not do something.

He had frisked her, hoping to find an Omni-Tool, but the men had apparently confiscated it. Fortunately, they had not taken her small emergency kit, and he was able to seal the breach in her suit and give her a dose of antibiotic. The whole time he was doing this, some little demon in the back of his mind reminded him that he had never been this close to such a beautiful girl let alone touched one. Veetor kept his mind busy, thinking about complex Virtual Intelligence algorithms while his practiced hands made quick work of the woman's suit damage.

She was lucid now, but she had maybe hours to live.

Tali was lying on her back, and she could feel three fingered hands working on her left leg, below the knee. She strained her eyes in the dark, trying to take in her situation. She was in the back a moving vehicle, medium size...a van, with all its rear seating removed. Judging by the occasional shaking and swaying, and the muffled din of an electric motor, it was a four-wheeled ground car. There was some occasional banging on the hull, and a clamor from outside resonated within the van. Besides Tali herself, there were two other passengers here with her. Sitting in a corner was a small Quarian child barely old enough to be out of its bubble yet wearing a rather loose fitting all-white environment suit. It was holding an odd wooden doll: it looked like a bottle, and it had a face and dress painted on it. Besides the child, there was another Quarian: a man in a tarnished white suit and red cloth, frantically trying to repair Tali's ruined suit.

"...W-who are you?" she asked him.

"Hm? Oh. Oh! I'm Veetor'Nara vas Qwib Qwib." His hands retreated from Tali's leg, their work done. "You'll be alright, I've repaired your suit and given you some medicine. You'll...you'll be fine."

Tali turned her gaze on the child.

"That's Fyodor."

She expected more names, but did not get any. "...Just Fyodor?" As she pronounced it, she realized it wasn't a Quarian name.

Veetor nodded. "No ship, no family. He doesn't remember his parents, but I suspect they were Exiles. I don't know what happened to them."

"...You've been taking care of him?"

"Ah, no..." answered Veetor as he shook his head, embarrassed. "Believe it or not, one of the Omar - an old woman - had been taking care of him when I first met him."

Tali looked around, but saw no Omar in the van with them. "Where is she?"

Fyodor looked at her, then resumed playing with his doll.

"...I think they..." Veetor began to stammer. "I mean, if there's anyone the humans hate more than a Quarian, i-it's an Omar and..."

_They had killed her, _Tali realized. _And he had no doubt seen it happen. O Ancestors! Preserve his soul..._

She decided to change the subject. "We're moving...where are they taking us?"

"They're taking us to the Plaza."

"What for?" _Why haven't they killed us yet, _she left unsaid.

Veetor was quiet.

"Veetor?" Tali prodded.

"...They're going to execute us: someone detonated a toxic gas bomb near the bazaar, and they think a Quarian is responsible. They'll beat us, hang us, then burn our corpses, and if we're lucky," Veetor gulped. "...They'll do it in that order. I've seen them do these things to an Omar that had allegedly sold tainted medicine to some children. Father Sandy had the crowd so worked up they were cheering when the fire started."

"Father Sandy?"

"Some priest from some human church called The Order. He set up a mission in these slums a year ago. When he found out about the local Omar population, he started lacing hate in his sermons, directed at the dozen or so Omar that live here as well the six or so Quarians that are stuck here, including me."

"Just the Omar and Quarians?" That had seemed odd to Tali. Human racists hated anything non-human with equal measure. "Why?"

Veetor shrugged. "I have no idea."

There was gunfire and more cheers. Tali looked at Fyodor again. "Are they...are they going to kill him too?"

"I don't know, I mean, they _say_ this payback for the gassing, but...This isn't about justice. It's about blood. They're hungry for it, and just one Quarian won't do."

"No...I can't let this happen!" Tali struggled to rise. She had abandoned all hope for herself, but she wasn't going to let these people die because of her, not while she could still move...

"Lay still! Conserve your strength."

"Conserve it for what? To be butchered for a laugh? No, I-I won't let them-"

"There's nothing we can do! We don't have any tools! The driver's compartment is locked, the doors are locked, and even if we get out of this van there's a mob outside! I'm sorry, but all we _can_ do is – all we can do is wait for the inevitable."

Tali was about to make another protest, but then an explosion shook the van.

_**~[h+}~**_

Tyrone sat in the passenger's seat in the driver's compartment of the van, letting Roach (a pimply human barely out of his teens) drive. He was leaning back comfortably, while Roach was hunched over the analog wheel.

"We should have wasted 'em." Roach said bitterly, having stewed in his own hatred for a while now. "We should just waste all of them."

Tyrone wanted to groan. Not this shit again. "You know what Father Sandy commanded us to do."

Roach gave Tyrone a half-hearted laugh, as if he finally realized the punchline of a bad joke. "I meant...We should just kill all of them. Like Father Sandy says! Every single one of these freaks. Wouldn't that be great?"

"Just drive."

Tyrone took a gander beyond the windshield: There were was another van in front of them, wading through a sea of angry people that was being parted by the threat of a ton of moving metal and the gunfire of a dozen escorts on foot. Fucking traffic. It's times like these he wished he could afford an aircar permit.

He should have been able to afford one, dammit.

In another life, Tyrone had been an Alliance Soldier, with a capitals 'S'. None of that biotic or technology crap: He was all about the guns and the soaking in the hits. But then he got himself involved in contraband and he was dishonorably discharged. He got his back-pay, of course, but a few bad business decisions landed him in the Zakera Ghetto, stuck with morons like Roach and a bunch of filthy aliens.

"You, you know what your problem is, Tyrone? You don't care. You don't care about what Father Sandy says. I feel sorry for you, man. I don't even know why you're here."

_At least I won't be first in line to drink his goddamned punch. No, I don't care about Luminon Sandoval's sermons. I don't really care about the apocalyptic second coming of cyborgs, or gods, or karma, or any of that shit. I care about getting paid, and If you only knew, Roach. If you only knew how deep 'Father Sandy's' pockets _really_ are, you'd understand why I 'm here, why I do what Sandy tells me, why I attend his Shard on Sundays, why I teach his goons how to hold a gun right, and why I don't cook sycophants like you for looking at me like you're doing right now, Roach._

Oh course, Tyrone didn't voice any of his thoughts. "Just drive."

"They deserve it." Roach kept muttering to himself. "They killed my Ma."

_Your Ma was a cross-dressing man-whore who died years ago with a needle in his arm filled with the zyme you cooked wrong you delusional little shi-_

Time stopped for Tyrone as he saw the smoking trail of a super-velocity round that tore open Roach's skull.

_**~[h+}~**_

When Otrera had gotten the word, she had a hard time believing it. All four of Saren's freaks and their goons were KIA. She had seen them in action, was perfectly aware of what they were capable of, and doubted that a little Quarian girl had killed all of them.

Then again, explosives had a way of leveling the playing field like that.

The asset that kept track of the Quarian reported that she was being pursued by a bunch of humans, captured, and was being slowly transported by a ground van. Otrera's commando of eight Asari Huntresses, the Furies, had been on standby to provide Saren's men with support should the need arise. With them dead, the Furies were now in charge of the op. Benezia had been clear: capture Quarian, secure intel, then eliminate the girl. And with their 'asset' relaying the target's current location and intended destination, it wasn't hard to clear some buildings of squatters and set up a cross-fire ambush. Otrera herself was perched on a rooftop overlooking a wide street, large enough for ground car traffic. She was eyeing it down the 4x sight of her DMR, a Toxotes mk IV, and after a little waiting, finally caught sight of her quarry.

The two vans came down the busy street, parting a clamoring crowd of humans, turians and salarians dressed in castoffs and dirty rags. The two ground vehicles were being escorted by at least twenty armed thugs, some of them sitting on the car's roofs and shooting their guns up.

"_Did the asset specify which van the target is in?_" asked Lampedo, the commando's sniper.

"It said the van was painted gray," answered Otrera.

"_They're _both_ gray._"

"Then we shoot both drivers. You take the one in the back. Anaea, the one in front has a bigger target. You take that one."

"_Got it,_" came Anea's reply. She wasn't as good as Lampedo, but she was close enough for this shot.

"On my mark...Three...Two...One...mark!"

Two heads exploded in unison, and the two vans stopped. To their credit, the twenty thugs didn't panic and tried to find cover. A large, dark-skinned human came out of the rear van, and started shouting orders. Otrera quickly identified him as the leader to the rest of the commando.

"Lampedo, can you take him out?"

"_No, he made me and he's keeping the van between me and him. I need to reposition._"

"_Cyme here, I spot three humans making their way to Lampedo by cutting through the buildings._"

"Intercept them. Gryne, fire your GEP above the vans. Let's see how these thugs deal with an airburst..."

_**~[h+}~**_

_Boom._

Adam was starting to hate explosions. He was parkouring the rooftops when he heard the distinct sound of an exploding rocket in the distance. It was different from the exploding bottles of homemade explosives the hoods around here were fond of. This was the sound of military gear, and the only group he could think of with access to that kind of kit were Saren's men. Then again, it could just be two gangs having it out, and one of them got their hands on a rocket launcher...

Either way, it came from one of the roads wide enough for ground car traffic, and if Zorah's van wasn't under attack, it soon would be, and he had to act.

_**~[h+}~**_

It was over in under 3 minutes. The thugs had been trained to be brave in the face of bullets, but explosions weren't exactly common in the Slums. Panic amongst their ranks and the crowd had thrown their measly attempt at resistance into disarray, and the Furies could pick them off at their leisure. There was nothing left on the street but corpses, two vans full of scared Quarians, and a commando of Asari Huntresses.

Otrera stood over the corpse of the large, dark-skinned human. He had been tougher than the rest, and she silently muttered a prayer for this fine warrior. He deserved a better fight, and better warriors to fight at his side, but alas...

Still, she would not be sorry for winning.

Her seven battle sisters, clad in their full-body combat leathers and distinct gilded white masks, had rounded up the captive Quarians. There were six of them, huddled together on their knees: three women, two men, and one child. They were scared, knowing full well that their fates were no longer theirs to decide. They would be decided by these eight masked shadows in the shape of women.

Otrera addressed them, her mask's speakers warping her voice. "Which one amongst you is named Tali'Zorah nar Rayya?"

The Quarians muttered amongst themselves: none of them went by that name, but 'Zorah' was apparently a name of significance amongst themselves. A Quarian woman in a gray suit and lime green cloth pointed another girl: she was obviously sick, and could barely stay upright, even on her knees.

"That one! She's wearing Zorah Indigo! It's got to be her!"

Otrera approached the indigo-clad Quarian and addressed her. "Are you the one we're looking for?"

She was struggling to breathe. "...Yes."

"Do you know what we want from you?"

"...You want the evidence of your-" she was sucking in air. "-of your master's crimes."

"Good...maybe you'll be even more cooperative and tell me where you've hidden it."

"...No."

Otrera sighed. "Of course not." She pulled out her small shotgun and shot the lime-green Quarian woman in the face. "How about now?"

"I...I can't..."

"Of course you can. You just need proper motivation..." She aimed her shotgun at another Quarian. The child.

"Wait!" shouted one of the males. He was wearing a tarnished white suit wrapped in red cloth. The Quarian child was hugging him tightly. "She's too sick to tell you anything! Her suit's been breached! She's doesn't have much time!"

"Otrera," said Gryne. She was a giant of a woman, the commando's heavy weapons specialist. "If she dies here and now we will have failed in our task, and Benezia will be the one to pay. We need to have her treated."

"And we can't take _them_ with us for leverage." said Lampedo. "Barely enough room in our two cars for us let alone _four_ suit-rats."

They were right, of course. Gryne and Lampedo had been with her the longest, and she always listened to their counsel, but her instincts told her she needed to finish this job quickly. Taking care of a dying Quarian and extracting the location of the package was going to take hours, maybe days of torture. They could just kill her now, but Saren wouldn't like the idea of incriminating evidence out there. It would drive him _insane_: and he'd let out his rage on Lady Benezia first, then the Furies, and might even burn the whole Ward just to make sure the evidence never came to light.

She decided to be cautious. "How long does she have?" she asked the red Quarian.

"I-I don't know! I did my best, but-

Otrera pointed her shotgun at him.

"-an hour! An hour, at best!"

"Good enough." Otrera holstered her shotgun. "Gryne, take the girl and come with me. Lampedo, you're coming too: extracting the target to our safehouse. The rest of you, clean this up."

_**~[h+}~**_

Jensen arrived at the scene, dropping stealthily from the rooftops behind a group of five women in black leather suits wearing gilded venetian masks. They were armed with machine pistols, shotguns, and assault rifles, and carried themselves like professionals. They were facing a group of four Quarians, two men, one woman, and a child. There was a corpse nearby, clad in green. To his relief, none of them wore indigo. Behind them was an open van – no doubt the one Baritone had spoken of in the recording. But where was Tali'Zorah?

Adam strained his ear, listening to the leather-clad women talk to each other.

"I'm just saying, fire's a lot more fun," said one, her high-pitched voice scrambled by the speakers on her mask.

"I dunno," said another. "The screaming might give me nightmares. How about Warping them?"

Warping. Biotics. Jensen turned on his Smart Vision, and he saw bright dots within every masked woman. Element zero nodes. They were _all_ Biotics.

"You want to hear screams? I hear getting Warped is worse than being set on fire. No, I say we just shoot them."

_They're going to execute them,_ Adam realized. If these women had taken Zorah somewhere, then they were probably covering their tracks. He had to act.

He activated his cloak, engaged the noise cancelers in his legs and moved out of cover. He'd have to be quick about this.

"Well that's boring – Well, unless we let them run for a-" said one of the women in black before Adam punched her in the back of the neck.

"What the-" said another at the sight of her friend going slack like a rag doll. She barely had time bring her gun up before Adam struck her in the throat with a knifehand strike, grabbed her, and shoulder-threw her overhead, hard, at the one that had been considering using incendiaries.

"Cloaker!" shouted one of two remaining women. She flared up, readying a wide area Nova blast that would disable and reveal their attacker, but Adam was already on to her: He kicked her in the knee (causing her leg to bend the wrong way), grabbed her by the shoulders, and brought her face down on his knee. She went limp, but the energies she had been holding back surged out, and Jensen was momentarily bathed in biotic energies that outlined his form.

The last remaining masked killer capitalized on that and struck at Adam with a biotically-charged fist. It barely grazed his face, but it was enough to stun him for a moment, causing his cloak to disengage. She followed it up with an elbow strike to his ribs, and quickly chained that with another attempt at pulping his skull with a charged fist. Adam grabbed her by the wrist with his right hand, pulled her in, then elbow struck her with his left arm in the back of her neck, causing her Biotic Amp to fizzle out. She lost control of the energies laced within her hand, and they tore it apart. She barely had time to scream before the darkness took her.

"Oh Keelah..." said one of the Quarians. He was clothed in red, and hugging a child protectively. "You...you killed them all in, in _seconds..."_

Adam wanted to say they were just barely alive, but he was still focused on his task, "Adam Jensen, C-Sec! Was there a-"

"A Quarian girl in indigo?" He answered quickly.

"Yes! Yes, was she here?"

"You just missed her – Their leader and two others took them down that alleyway! You have to hurry!"

"All of you! Take their weapons and find a place to hide until the riot blows over!" He didn't wait for them to acknowledge, and ran as fast as he could down the alleyway.

_**~[h+}~**_

They had just finished securing the Quarian into one of the two aircars when Otrera's Tactical HUD reported Cyme condition to be critical. Then in turn Anaea's name blinked red as well. Then Areto, then Iphito, and then, after ten seconds, Myrleia. They were all incapacitated and slowly dying.

How? That had been the only word on Otrera's mind. She had trained her Furies so well. Nothing short of a trio of Justicars could have bested them!

"Spectres," said Gryne, as if answering her leader's thoughts. "It has to be."

"Saren assured us the Spectres wouldn't be a problem!" shouted Lampedo, disbelieving.

_It doesn't matter who, _thoughtOtrera. "Get in the car."

"Should we not save our sisters?"

"The mission comes first. If the Specters are after us, then we can't afford to risk a confrontation. We need to leave, right now!"

They were all in one of the aircars in less than a second, and took off the next. As they left the ground, Otrera thought she heard a loud 'thunk' sound, something banging on the hull, but decided it was probably just her nerves.

_**~[h+}~**_

Eight minutes. That's how fast he got to the Spinner. He also had to scare off some hooligans trying to vandalize the old aircar. Thank the spirits SydMotors made their cars sturdy.

He started up the ignition sequence, and activated his headset.

"Jen – Whew!" Garrus took a few deep breaths. He had really pushed himself hard. "Jensen, I've got the car ready."

"_There's been a slight change of plans. Lock on to my signal."_

"I've got you on your Omni...Jensen? Did you jack a car without telling me?"

"_No?_"

"Then why are you in the air moving at eighty kilometers per hour?"

"..._Because I'm hanging on to the aircar carrying Zorah, and it's flying at eighty kilometers per hour?"_

"...How in the hells did you-"

"_Just get here. I'll try to slow them down."_

_**~[h+}~**_

Adam had to admit, jumping cloaked onto a rising heavy aircar and hanging from its rear bumper wasn't exactly the smartest thing he ever did. He hadn't even been sure it was the right car to hang on to, but his Smart Vision vindicated his impulse: Four contacts, three biotics and one sick Quarian. Jackpot.

Adam had hoped that he could just keep on monitoring the situation inside the large vehicle until his backup arrived, but his Augmented Reality HUD alerted him that the Quarian's heartbeat was getting slower. She would need medicine, and soon. Worse still, the car was getting a little too close to the edge Zakera's 'atmosphere'. Adam suspected Saren's women would be taking a VR inter-ward highway, exposing him to empty space. Jensen could hold his breath for a very, very long time, but the lack of atmospheric pressure would cause his blood to boil. He didn't have an aug for that.

_Note to self, requisition a full hard-suit._

Thinking fast, Jensen singled out one of the car's four 'wheels', a mass effect stabilizer ring. His own Spinner needed two of them to maintain its altitude, and he hoped this car would be no different. He activated his right arm sword, and stabbed at it.

_**~[h+}~**_

Lampedo had paid quite a bit of cash for two older model CG-4c Sky Rovers, but their toughness and reliability made them worth the price. She was surprised, then, when the car's VI reported that one of its stabilizers suddenly went missing. So much for the warranty.

"What happened?" asked Otrera. The constant swaying, stalling and rising was starting to get to her.

"One of the stabilizers is..._gone_. The other three are straining to keep the vehicle aloft...I need to get us down to one of the physical roads."

"Do it. Take the highway."

_**~[h+}~**_

"_They're coming down on the highway." _Jensen said over the wireless. "Sky Rover, beige. You see it?"

"I see it," replied Garrus. There was indeed a CG-4c off in the distance, some two hundred meters away and closing. Sparks were flying off one of its stabilizers, and it was about to land on Zakera's highway, a floating bridge that hovered one hundred and fifty meters above the ward's ground. It ran the whole length of Zakera, providing the poorer population that couldn't afford aircars an expressway to everywhere else on this arm of the Citadel.

"And if I squint, I can see you too. How's it hanging?"

"_Don't be a smart-ass."_

"How do you want to do this?" The road wasn't terribly congested, but there were other vehicles on it. Garrus knowing Jensen, he'd want to keep casualties to a minimum, if at all.

"_...Lights on, ping them. Driving with a busted tail light is something you can pull them over for."_

"I don't see-"

Jensen punched one of the tail lights out. He then cloaked before vaulting over the car's trunk as it landed, hovering just three inches above the metal road.

"Ah, there it is." Garrus switched on the Spinner's police holograms and sirens, and pinged the Sky Rover's VI.

_**~[h+}~**_

"There's a C-Sec car pinging us." said Lampedo.

There was no way Otrera could explain their weapons and captive. Speeding away would bring heat down on them. Blowing up the patrol car would only bring a C-Sec response to the wreck.

"Gryne. Take care of it. Lampedo, slow down."

Gryne, who was sitting in the backseat along with the Quarian, deployed the mini-GEP she strapped on her back and opened one of the rear door windows.

_**~[h+}~**_

"They're slowing down, Jensen."

"_Huh, that was eas- ah, shit!"_

"What?"

"_GEP GUN! EVADE!"_

A large leather-clad woman was indeed leaning out of the Sky Rover's windows and aiming a small, boxy, silver-blue missile launcher at Garrus. His small eyes widened at the sight and he hit the brakes, immediately putting distance between the Spinner and the Rover.

The GEP-wielding masked woman fired the weapon, and Garrus banked to the right. The missile missed, but it was coming about. Damned Wasp missiles!

"Jensen! You think you might..."

Adam pulled out the Cicada machine pistol from his holster and fired at the missile. A stream of metal shards tore the munition apart, and it exploded not five meters away from the Spinner's tail.

"_I think I just did._"

Garrus breathed a sigh of relief, that had been too close. He drew his Mongoose pistol and opened his window.

_Two can play that game._

_**~[h+}~**_

"There's someone on-" Gryne had barely uttered the words when a phasic round the shape of a grain of rice tore through her mask, right above the eye, then lodged itself inside her brain. She dropped her weapon outside, and she hung lifelessly from the car window.

And then there were two: Lampedo driving, and Otrera on the forward passenger's seat. If there was any doubt they were dealing with Spectres, they knew it now: no one else could have made that shot from a flying vehicle.

"If it's a dogfight he wants, let's give him one...take us into the air, evasive maneuvers!" Otrera ordered.

Lampedo protested. "If we do that, C-Sec will be on to us in minutes!"

"I DON'T CARE!" Otrera shouted as she withdrew her shotgun.

As the Sky Rover rose into the air as far as it could, a glowing figure appeared out of nowhere on the left hand side of the car, hanging on the driver's door. It was a pale human with dark brown hair and, Otrera realized, he had mechanical arms, one of which was drawn back, ready to punch the car door's reinforced glass. It strained under the pressure of the first blow, cracked under the second, and then exploded from the third.. Lampedo was glad her full mask protected her face from the shards, but she soon found the cold edge of a blade at her throat.

"Land this car RIGHT NOW." demanded the human. A Fury, however, did not answer to threats, and she struck with a biotically charged hand, swatting the blade away. She shifted her weight on the pedals, and rolled the Sky Rover clockwise in an attempt to throw off the mechanical human, but his fake hands held fast, bending the car door's metal under their grip

From the inside of the car's own gravity field, the constant spin did not affect the occupants, and Otrera could easily level her shotgun at the human's face. She took too long savoring the shot, however, as a pair of three fingered hands pushed at her arm. Startled, Otrera fired her shotgun right into the car's dash panel. The hyper velocity pellets tore through the dash's plastic, then the Sky Rover's VI core and finally made their home into the car's engine block. Blasted suit rat had picked that very moment to be brave, and she had doomed them all!

"You little **cunt!**" she cursed the Quarian as she struck her in the face, and her helmet's visor finally shattered after all the abuse that it had suffered.

She would no doubt die in minutes now, but Otrera was beyond caring about Saren Arterius' wrath at this moment. Of course, it wasn't his wrath that she should have been worried about now. That human had seen her strike the Quarian, and she had made Detective Sergeant Adam Jensen very, _very_ _mad._

_**~[h+}~**_

The car stopped spinning, and Jensen positioned himself to stab at the locking mechanism. Once the lock was ruined, he pulled the car door with all his might, tearing it from its hinges and sending it tumbling down to the city below.

He grabbed the driver by the throat, and forced her out of her seat to follow the piece of debris. She might have screamed and begged for her life, Adam wasn't sure, and he did not care.

The way open, he entered the car, where the last masked woman was readying her shotgun again. Adam, quick as a snake, lashed out and grabbed the weapon by the barrel and twisted it, causing it to backfire into the huntress' face. Her mask shattered, revealing the pale blue skin of an Asari. Her body flared, readying a biotic attack, but Jensen did not give her time to finish it. He punched her in the skull, again and again, until she stopped moving. He punched again, just to make sure, and the car door she was leaning against gave way. Her limp body fell down, joining the other killer.

"_Jensen? Jensen! What's going on in there? The car's starting to spin out of control!" _Vakarian's voice came through loud on Adam's headset.

"...The asari are down. I'm taking control of the...Aw, hell."

"_What?_"

"The haptics on this thing are glitched-out! The VI core is scrap!"

"_It's worst than you think!_"

"Oh, do tell."

"_Sensor's picking up a lot of heat from the Rover's engine block! The power cell is going to blow!"_

Adam quickly forced the passenger's seat forward, giving him access to the backseats. The Quarian was breathing in poison with every breath, but she was alive if barely conscious. He grabbed her by the shoulders.

_**~[h+}~**_

Garrus was flying as close as he possibly could to the out-of-control, overheating Sky Rover. Its course was getting more and more unsteady, and flying too close to it would result in a mid-air collision. If this were a search and rescue craft, saving Jensen would have been as simple as switching on a tractor beam. Sadly this was a refurbished old police cruiser Jensen had saved from the scrap heap.

Time slowed down for Garrus as Adam leaped out of the Sky Rover, holding Tali'Zorah tightly against him. By the time Garrus had processed what had happened, Jensen and the Quarian were hundreds of meters away behind him and falling down, headed for the streets below the highway.

"Titans of Palaven save us!" He shouted as he made a rapid U-turn. There was no way he'd get to them before they hit the ground, but by the spirits he would try.

_**~[h+}~**_

Tali felt weightless, that much she understood through the fog in her mind. She opened her eyes, and then she understood that she was falling to her death. It didn't scare her as much as it should. In fact, she was quite...at peace with the idea.

She felt embraced. This wasn't like being held by Aunt Shala. this... there was strength in it, this was more how she had imagined her father would embrace her, if he had...if only he had not been so driven, so distant, so _cold_.

She was bathed in a golden light, and she could feel every nerve on her skin tingle. Time seemed to slow down, and the buildings didn't stream past her so quickly. Had she died? Was this what lay beyond the fade? An eternal feeling of weightlessness in a shining light?

_Savor the light,_ she told herself. _Savor the flight_, she insisted. _Savor this embrace. Everything will be alright._

_Maybe I'll finally see my mother, here, in this place._

_It's...it's so hard breathe..._

_**~[h+}~**_

Adam crashed on his back, crushing the thin metal roof of a car. He had attempted to put himself between the ground and Tali'Zorah, knowing that the reduced effectiveness of his Icarus Landing System in an artificial gravity environment would not be enough to save her from severe injury. He wasn't worried about himself: he could take it. He wasn't certain about her, considering her critical state, and he refused to take any chances.

He held back a scream of pain, grinding his teeth: the strain of a sudden stop had cracked his ribs. His spine would be alright, having been reinforced to handle the stresses of augmented limbs. A crowd was forming around the scene, myriad faces with myriad voices shouting distress and disbelief. Someone begged someone else to call an ambulance, over the familiar sound of a Spinner coming in for a landing.

"Jensen!" Garrus shouted. He had landed nearby, and rushed towards his partner. "Oh, spirits..."

"Argh!...the Quarian! Is she okay?"

Garrus lifted the girl's limp body off Jensen and set her on the ground. Jensen got up, his Sentinel Health System already releasing painkillers to deal with the pain as micromachines repaired his ribs. He knelt by her side as Garrus scanned her with Jensen's Omni-Tool.

"...She's alive, but she's got a few bruises, Greasel saliva's in her system, and she's breathing in allergens" Garrus set the Omni-Tool's to flash-forge a omni-gel applicator. "I'll repair her helmet - Give her a dose of Panacea!"

Jensen pulled out a hypo from his utility belt and jabbed it in the Quarian's arm. It had a conveniently designated applicator port on it. Her eyes fluttered, reacting to the sensation of a warm liquid gently breaching her skin and making its way to her veins. Breathing became easier for her, if only slightly.

_**~[h+}~**_

Tali's eyes caught the face of her saviour. He was human, pale, and dark brown hair covered his head and face. His eyes were hidden by dark gold mirrors and, at the moment, Tali wished dearly she could see his eyes. She did not know why.

_Hold on, _he told her. His voice was deep and raspy, so close and yet so far away, and she wanted to listen to it again.

It was getting darker.

_You're going to be alright._

She couldn't focus her eyes, and her eyelids were so heavy...

_Hey..._

Everything was a blur.

_Stay with me..._

And then everything went black.

_**~[h+]~**_

Tali's eyes flickered open, and she saw nothing but blue steel walls. She felt nude, with needles puncturing her arms, a sheet covering her skin, and a plastic tube down her airway, providing her tattered lungs with air. She was surrounded by glass, in an enclosed space with clean, disinfected air. She panicked: she couldn't move her arms and legs. Had she been captured? This didn't look like a hospital!

She turned her head to the right, hoping to gain insight into her situation. Beyond the glass she could make out the form of a human in a long blue coat, leaning back against a chair, his arms folded over his chest, which rose and fell in slow intervals. His eyes were shut. She recognized him, and she calmed herself.

Tali went back to sleep, safe in the knowledge that no harm would come to her.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>Don't worry, Tali is going to be FINE. I was going to leave her fate more ambiguous, but I was worried fans would jump to the wrong conclusion and spam my message box with protests and promises of bodily harm. _

_Did I have you sweating over Tali's fate? Good. I borrowed a move from Joss Whedon: this is where killing Shepard in such a sudden and unexpected manner starts to pay off, restoring dramatic tension to a story we've all read and played over and over again. If I'm willing to kill Goddamned Shepard of all people right at the beginning, who else am I willing to kill? I'd never kill Tali or Garrus, of course (I loves them so vewy vewy much). But the rest of the cast, including Jensen, are fair game now._

_To be honest I'm not a hundred percent happy with how this chapter turned out, as I had several different scenarios in my head for the rescue. "Car chase" wasn't on the top of my list, but oh well._

_So, Wrex walking away. Before you ask, no, I didn't make him a coward. He's just not young anymore, and he knows it. His best years are behind him. I'll write something dealing with that, of course._

_Tali's "last words." are based on Valerie's letter from V For Vendeta. I cut out the last part, as I thought it wasn't quite time for it yet. Don't worry, Tali will have a chance to finish that sentence someday ;)_

_Here's to hoping I can stick with my "on chapter a week schedule" from here on in...__No codex today, though. It's 2 AM and I'm beat..._


	10. Chapter 8: Know the face of your enemy

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**Chapter 8: Know the face of your enemy**

* * *

><p>The door irised open, and Benezia, accompanied by two Asari Huntresses, floated through it, her pinstriped dress and the pearls mounted on her headdress trailing behind her. She was moving through the conduits that irrigated the <em>Sovereign's <em>massive bulk. The cylindrical halls were dark, their metallic blue barely illuminated by a blue gloom, the source of which Benezia had never managed to identify. Red lights veined the conduits, slowly streaking through curved circuitry. Geth spider drones skittered on the walls.

There was no gravity to speak of. Geth apparently had little use for it, and less than ten percent of the massive vessel had artificial gravity for the comfort of Benezia's Huntresses, Wreav's Berserkers, and Saren's own chemically-corrupted clone troopers. Everywhere else, one had to float towards her intended destination. Thankfully, Benezia's own quarters were not far from the Core, the central chamber from which Saren controlled the mighty, three kilometer-long warship by the power of his will alone. Another iris widened, and Benezia found herself inside the very nerve center of the _Sovereign._

"Stay outside," she told her escorts, and they complied. The door to the Core irised shut, leaving her alone with Saren.

The Turian Spectre, Saren Arterius, sat in a floating chair with his back to the entrance. He was meditating on a giant sphere of black glass embedded on the roof of the spherical room. Every detail inside Core, every seam on the dark metallic walls, every vein of energy, every curve, _everything_ led the eye towards that sphere. A red and orange phantom in the warped shape of a heart pulsated slowly inside the nearly opaque orb and, at times, Benezia could swear she could make out the image of a million faces contorted in anguish within the apex of a pulse.

A vision of hell.

She approached the seat, a hollowed ovoid carved out of a black marble that was so well polished she could make out her reflection on it. She cleared her throat, getting Saren's attention: "Shepard has been killed."

"Oh?" responded Saren. He snorted, then laughed: "Well, that's one loose end I no longer have have to deal with. What of the Quarian?"

Benezia hesitated, and Saren picked up on that quickly. He stopped meditating on the sphere. "Benezia?"

"Our assets on the Citadel, save for the Geth spy drones, have been...neutralized. The quarian has escaped us, and the evidence will soon make its way to the Council." She relayed the news with a neutral, even tone, as if reading the weather report. She betrayed neither worry nor fear.

Saren, however, saw no need for that kind of self-control. He seethed, rose from his chair, roared in fury, and backhanded the floating piece of furniture with his artificial arm, knocking it away.

"HOW? FOUR of my Myrmidons and EIGHT of your Huntresses tasked in killing one – ONE! - little quarian girl and they _FAIL_?" He took two strides towards Benezia, menacingly. "Who killed them? How?"

Unfazed by Saren's sudden fury, Benezia summoned her Omni-Tool's haptic interface. Using her Level Two access to the Sovereign's database and the Core's own holographic emitters, she commanded a several flat holograms to appear.

Most of them were videos taken by the Geth spy drones, displaying the gruesome fates of his Myrmidons and her Huntresses. Explosives had claimed the lives of two clones soldiers, then the human in a blue longcoat had forced another clone into a hand-to-hand confrontation, with a krogan Battlemaster cutting it short. The last of the clones met his end from the mouth of a shotgun, point blank, right in the face, from the quarian.

What happened to the Furies, though, that had surprised Saren most of all. After they had been alerted by the Geth drones, the eight Huntresses had managed to secure the quarian, and it looked like the mission had been a success. Then, Otrera and the two senior Furies left the five younger members of the group to dispose of a few quarian witnesses, and the finely trained warriors started falling. One became limp, a second choked and was thrown hard against one her comrades, neutralizing a third. The fourth attempted a Nova, but her leg broke and mask caved in. The energies she was holding back were released, outlining a cloaked humanoid figure. The last Fury engaged it, causing it to materialize in the form of a human wearing what Saren thought was a light hardsuit...but with khaki cargo pants worn on top. Odd.

The last Fury was taken down with an elbow strike to the back of the neck, and Saren got a better look at the human. It was the same man that had engaged the Myrmidon earlier.

"Is that all? What happened to Otrera?"

A new vid window, this time of a Sky Rover hovering on a highway being shot at by a turian driving an older SydMotors Spinner. The turian had managed hit the large Penthesilean Huntress right between the eyes. The human – him again! – decloaked on the side of the car and proceeded to try and hijack the Sky Rover. The vehicle rolled in an effort to shake him off, but it was no use. Minutes later, Lampedo and Otrera had been ejected from the vehicle, which then started spiraling out of control. The human jumped out of the vehicle, carrying the quarian in his arms.

"The video cuts out after that," said Benezia. "The drones couldn't maintain their stealth fields for much longer and had to return to their berths for repairs. We assume the human used a landing system, as he is still alive."

"That's the _how_. Now, the _who_."

Benezia obeyed, and she arranged three pairs of 2d images side by side in front of Saren, portraits and profiles on three different individuals from C-Sec's very own data archives. Two pairs were of a human and a turian dressed in C-Sec's Navy Blue and silver-trimmed uniforms. The last pair were mugshots of a scarred, red crested krogan in an orange jumpsuit. Benezia named them all:

"Detective Sergeant Adam Jensen, Detective Sergeant Garrus Vakarian, and former Chieftain Urdnot Wrex."

"I remember Wrex," stated Saren, his anger dissipating. "A Battlemaster. I hired him and dozens more mercs of his ilk for the _Caravel _job. He evaded my 'cleaners'. As for the detectives, I recall their names: They were assigned to investigate Udina's accusations, but their deadline expired."

"C-Sec has Urdnot flagged as a known Shadow Broker contractor. He was likely sent by the Broker to deal with Fist."

"...And no doubt secure the quarian and her intel for the Broker. I take it he killed Fist?"

"Not quite. The detectives attempted to apprehend him. From what I can tell, he took his own life instead."

"And yet he still managed to put the police on the quarian's trail." Saren said bitterly as he skimmed over the C-Sec files. Jensen and Vakarian were apparently partnered some 4 years ago, and their commendations, awards and medals began to increase in frequency around the same time. Of note, They both earned the Silver Star of Gallantry for bravery, the Eye of Pythia for solving a record number of cases within a year, and the Venator's Arrow for "uncommon determination in the capture of a fugitive." Vakarian still held the C-Sec record for best long-range marksmanship, while Jensen had set the record for best medium and short range marksmanship as well as hand-to-hand combat. They were both tied for advanced driving.

As for Urdnot, well, he had a rap-sheet that went as far back as the Krogan Rebellions. Two hundred and sixty-seven counts of driving under the influence, three hundred and seventy-five counts of vandalism and assault, and one count littering. Said 'litter' consisted of two pairs of testicles he had torn off a fellow krogan and unceremoniously thrown in a floating park's lake. On the more "legal" side of things, he had brought in hundreds of high-profile C-Sec sanctioned bounties dead. His best 'catch' was an Elcor mercenary by the name of 'Two Ton Tank' Thorkel.

Between these three individuals and a quarian with a love of explosives, it was little wonder that twelve elite soldiers were defeated. Saren himself had taken on worse odds.

"Shall I have them killed?" asked Benezia.

Saren wanted them dead! He wanted their mangled corpses mounted on the hull of his ship as a trophy! Reason, however, chose this moment to assert itself within Saren's mind. "...No." Saren sighed. "Taking these three out isn't worth the cost in manpower, and with the damage done the quarian is of no concern to us anymore. Besides, with Shepard dead, the biggest threat to our plans is gone."

"But with the Council moving against you..."

"The Council will simply remove my Spectre 'privileges', which I am no longer dependent on. I can manage the rest of our operations from within the Terminus Systems. The Council's fear of all-out war will keep them from sending any sort of task force after me."

"And the Spectres?"

"The Spectres are far too busy keeping the peace across the galaxy. They'll be able to spare one, maybe two after me. If they make it all the way to the _Sovereign, _well..." His mandibles parted, just so, the turian equivalent of a smile. "Then they'll have proven their value to me, and I shall be able to...convince them to join my cause."

"What is our next move, then?"

"Have you succeeded in locating your daughter?"

"...My spies are investigating rumors of her presence in Caleston, apparently the miners there found a Prothean ruin, and the University of Thessia has dispatched a research team to excavate it. I am waiting for their report."

Saren biotically pulled his marble seat back onto its anti-grav mount. "Have you anything else to tell me?"

"Not at the moment, no."

"Then leave me," commanded Saren as he seated himself.

"As you wish." Benezia bowed, and left Saren alone to meditate on his seat. With little else to do but wait until his other agents sent in reports, Saren decided to distract himself by reviewing the profiles he had been shown. Something had bothered him about the human's dossier: his age. At 190 Terran years, Jensen should have died some 30 years ago. This anomaly prompted Saren to examine Jensen's medical records. Excellent physical condition, no chronic diseases, no gene mods, and...a prescription for Neuropozyne, the human equivalent of _Raffia. _Jensen's profile had no Biotics ratings, so Saren assumed he was a cripple in need of prosthetic implants. That alone should have confined him to a desk, but Pallin had him on the streets. It wasn't hard to figure out why.

Realizing that he wasn't getting the full picture, Saren ran a simultaneous search for "Adam Jensen" on his database and the extranet. The first hit was, to Saren's surprise, an extensive dossier put together by Nihlus Kryik, Saren's former protégé: he had collected C-Sec academy scores, various interviews from Elysium citizens and co-workers, and much more detailed medical files on Jensen's prostheses and implants. More hits came along, news articles concerning a vault of ancient human technology being uncovered, and one of its cryogenically preserved, cybernetically augmented subjects – Jensen – waking up, escaping, and evading authorities for weeks before finally being caught. More articles: political uproars, ethical debates, legal ramifications, terrorists attacks, and Jensen was in the middle of it all.

Saren rose from his chair, approaching Jensen's pictures. They merged to create a three dimensional, life-size holographic bust that Saren closely studied. He was a somewhat gaunt-faced pale human with dark brown hair and beard, with black plastic clips mounted on his temples. A scar marred his left eyebrow, and a prominent hexagon was carved onto the left side of his forehead, just below his hairline. The rest of his face was neutral, but his long eyebrows, low brow and narrow eyes conspired to give him a permanent frown and a defiant glare.

Saren couldn't help but glare back, and let out a long, low growl.

_**~[h+}~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: CULTURE: TURIANS: PALAVEN: MYRMIDON<p>

_Myrmidons are legendary creatures of turian myth, servants of the Titans that once ruled the surface of Palaven in ancient times. They were, according to myth, molded from anything from clay, lava, water, or any combinations thereof into the form of tall, 'humanoid' bipeds. They were considered by the ancient turians to be peerless warriors and thought to possess a portion of the power of the Titans themselves. When the Titans fell asleep and became the mountains, the Myrmidons appointed themselves as their guardians, and effectively withdrew from the world, only to be seen during times of great turmoil and change._

_They are a popular subject of modern turian fiction, and the name has been in use for centuries to denote military vehicles and units._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: THESSIA: CITY STATES: PENTHESILEA<p>

_Penthesilea is a sovereign city-state in the middle of the main continent on Thessia. Throughout its history, Penthesilea had come under attack by invaders, resulting in an extremely militant culture. Ancient Penthesileans were considered by all other asari to be obsessed with physical training, mental discipline, and martial prowess, so much so that only proven warriors were allowed to mother children. The enduring physical trait of Penthesileans is a far larger physical size than the average Asari, as well as a denser, more defined musculature. Unfortunately, Penthesilea is considered one the more element zero poor regions of Thessia, and as result its inhabitants are considered some of the poorest biotics on the planet. The modern day Penthesilian is extremely dependent on biotic amps. _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_Sorry for the short chapter, but my muse has not been kind to me. :(

I toyed with the idea of turning Saren into a sort of Loghain/Ammon Jerro, a tragically misguided anti-hero and an obvious threat that everyone went after while the real villain was free to gather its strength. I decided against it, though, as I would have had to rewrite previous chapters and excise any reference to Saren and the Geth. Oh well.

Yeah, you know what Penthesileans are supposed to be :)


	11. Chapter 9: Just Rewards

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**Chapter 9: Just rewards  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Hold still<em>.<em>" said Dr. Chakwas. "And for God's sake, stop _eating like a pig._"

The turian C-Sec officer – Garrus Vakarian – was sitting at the SSV Normandy's Mess' table, wolfing down his third helping of dextro gourmet rations. Nihlus Kryik, the Spectre that had intended to stay on the Normandy for an extended evaluation period, had brought in half a year's worth of the stuff. With the Spectre dead and Vakarian hungry after his eight hour therapy, Chakwas saw little harm in giving him a couple. She hadn't expected him to go for a third, but apparently he had worked up quite an appetite.

Chakwas was doing a follow up scan on his peripheral nervous system with her omni tool. He had, much to her shock, been "given a greasy acupuncture", a torture method involving Greasel venom and something sharp. The damage to his nerves, not to mention the rest of his organs on account of levo-dextro complications could have been devastating and permanent. As soon as she had finished ensuring the quarian's survival, started a battery of injections meant to repair the damage.

The Omni-Tool bleeped, and she reviewed the data streaming on the small holographic screen. The results: Garrus Vakarian was once again a healthy thirty-two year old turian. Very healthy. In fact, he was in far better physical condition than _Nihlus _had been.

She had shared that fact with him, and as soon as Vakarian finished chewing a mouthful of black beans and mushrooms covered in wine sauce, he quipped: "Try keeping up with a cyborg for the past four years! I _guarantee_ it'll keep you in tippy-top shape."

"So you were being shot at with a GEP launcher, and...?" Jenkins prodded. He was sitting across from Vakarian, trying to glean more of the story that brought the Normandy's three guests to its doorstep.

"Mmph?" Garrus had just put another mouthful of beans in his mouth. He had, Chakwas noted, the decency to talk without his mouth full, and took the time to chew and swallow before continuing to talk. "Right, so I manage to bank and roll just in time for the Hornet missile to miss me, but it's a tenacious little bugger and it comes about. Jensen, spirits bless him, had the good sense to shoot it before it-

"Jensen shot a missile? With a _pistol_?"

"Well, a _Cicada_ machine pistol, actually. It's not that hard a trick to pull off if you've got one of those , just lead the missile and fire a full burst, and you're almost guaranteed to hit something as small a missile. Now, _my_ shot, that was something to see! Soon as the Hornet blew up I whip out my Mongoose_,_ open up a window, line up a shot for the huntress with the missile launcher and BLAM!, thirty meters away, cars are moving at over a hundred klicks per hour, right between her eyes!"

"Whoa... and then what happened?"

"You know what?" Chakwas crossed her arms. "I'd much rather you skip to the part where you and Mister Jensen decide it's a good idea to take a sick and wounded quarian girl to an Alliance ship instead of a proper hospital."

"But don't you want to hear the part where Jensen hijacks the Sky Rover and-"

Chakwas gave him a withering glare.

Vakarian threw his hands up, still holding his knife and spork. "Okay, okay! Truth is once the EMTs had stabilized Zorah and put her in the ambulance, we weren't sure where to take her. Hospitals aren't exactly safe as houses when someone wants you dead. Receptionists don't exactly pat people down when someone comes in, and as long as you _look_ like you got business here, the rent-a-cops won't bother you. Combine that with an immobile target, and it's a hitman's wet dream."

Sorrow fell on Chakwas and Jenkins' faces, and Vakarian looked back and forth between the two, curious.

"Did...did I say something wrong?"

Chakwas answered first: "No, it's just..."

"Shepard was killed." Jenkins interrupted. "In a hospital."

Garrus had heard something about that, but he had not gotten any details. "Damn...I'm – I'm sorry."

"No, no it's alright..." Chakwas reassured him. "We're all just – the shock of it still hasn't quite worn off."

"But you understand, now. We couldn't risk the same thing happening to Zorah. Plus, we needed to get that proof to someone who would use it. Putting it through the system was too risky – if Saren had a goon planted in C-Sec or if the Spectres come along and seize the evidence for some bullshit reason then it would vanish and everything we worked for would have been for nothing."

"What about that Wrex fella?" asked Jenkins.

"What about him?" Garrus answered dismissively. "He's a merc on the Shadow Broker's payroll. Hells, I'm surprised he let us walk away with a copy of the evidence..."

"Well, the Shadow Broker might have-"

"Kid, the Broker is in this for himself. Or herself, whatever. If the Alliance couldn't pay top credit for that intel you can bet it would have sat in some hard drive until the end of time. Or he could have used it to blackmail Saren or whatever. Point is, Broker's not a...what's the human term..."

"A good Samaritan?" Chakwas supplied. "

"Yeah, that's it! Right, so Jensen and I concluded that the best place to take both Zorah and the data was the Normandy. Ship can stay on the move, It's got marines, it's got a very advanced sickbay -"

"-And how did you know that?"

"Documentary. And finally: it's _the_ Normandy: First vessel of its class, first diplomatic cooperative design project between the Hierarchy and Alliance Navies, and therefore whatever happens on it will be reported immediately to Udina without any delay. We give him the evidence, and he gets it immediately to the council."

"He would have, except for the part where Jensen practically held that evidence hostage to ensure Ms. Zorah got treated."

Vakarian looked sheepish. "Eh, heheh...that, that wasn't my idea."

"I would have treated her, you know. No questions asked."

Vakarian became very quiet, sighed, and set his utensils down.

"Five years ago, Jensen and I got paired up to investigate an arson case that lead us to the Cylenander murders. I had just made Detective Corporal and he was a Police Constable first class assigned to drive me around the Citadel. We needed to speak to an elderly Volus at an hospital on Shalta Ward. As we parked our cruiser in front of the hospital we found a figure lying prone in the grass, close to driveway. It was a quarian clad in a blue and white cloth, a boy, unconscious and barely breathing. Passerbys ignored him – I figure they thought he was drunk or something – and I was about to do the same when Jensen decides to check up on him. Toxicology scans revealed nothing, a generic medical scan told us that he was extremely sick with some kind of flu. We brought him in the emergency ward, they said they'd take care of him and we moved on to our business."

Vakarian picked up his spork and started picking at his food. He did not take another bite. "The Volus was a bit delirious from his meds and we had to come back the day after to get anything out of him. We did, and Jensen excused himself to check up on the Quarian again. He was gone."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that he died but-"

"-I wasn't finished," Garrus interrupted, annoyed. He sighed, and put his spork back down. "I meant to say he was _gone, _as in he vanished. There was no record of him ever being there. Jensen asked a few nurses and, after some persuasion one of them told him that the quarian had been transferred to another hospital on the Ward. Our business concluded for the day, Jensen decided to visit the other hospital and we parted ways. In the morning Jensen had arrested four hospital administrators and three head nurses for Gross Negligence and Dereliction of Duty of Care. According to Jensen each admin dumped the kid to some other hospital. None of them wanted to get stuck with a sick quarian: Hospitals on Shalta are...'prestigious', you see, and treating a quarian is a mark on said prestige. Jensen had tracked the boy through three other hospitals before he found him dead in a run-down clinic in the Upper part of Shalta."

Chakwas was aghast. "That's...disgusting! No self-respecting doctor would abandon a patient like this!"

"Well, they did, and if you want more stories about quarians getting screwed by the Citadel's health care system I'd be happy to oblige. Point is, Jensen had learned pretty quickly that when it comes to doctors and sick quarians, you have to twist the doctor's arm to get him to do his job."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Servants of the Reapers," <em>boomed a deep, raspy voice._ "Hear me!"_

The high resolution 3d video file was showing multiple perspectives of the same subject: an turian clad in white armor with a prosthetic left arm -Saren, evidently- with an Asari Matriarch wearing a dark pinstriped dress and a matching, pearled headdress at his side. They were on an large floating platform, overlooking a huge hangar bay filled with Geth troopers and vehicles, all ambiently lit by a blue gloom, while Saren and the matriarch were illuminated from above by a harsh white light.

_"The humans have uncovered a valuable artifact, an undamaged Prothean beacon, containing a portion of the Shibboleth! Through the Shibboleth, the Conduit will be unlocked, and through the Conduit, the Reapers shall return! The importance of this mission is paramount, and thus I shall lead it personally! In a few moments the attack plans will be uploaded into your memory cores! Study them, embrace them, and this first step in this crusade will end in victory!"_

_"All hail the Machine Messiah!" _cheered the Matriarch. To the surprise of Anderson, Jensen and Udina, the machines did indeed cheer, raising their weapons in salute and making an ungodly noise through their speakers. Saren opened up his arms, basking in their praise.

More holograms appeared. A sphere representing Eden Prime, surrounded by diagrams for orbital drops and approach vectors for dropships designed to minimize exposure to the city of Constant's impressive GARDIAN laser emplacements. A holographic map of Constant, detailing weapon emplacements, choke points, garrisons, the typical load-outs of an Alliance Marine, everything needed for an invasion.

The lights inside the Normandy's briefing room brightened while the holograms faded into nothing.

"This is it!" Anderson exclaimed. "This is undeniable proof that Saren's is responsible for Eden Prime!"

"I would hardly say undeniable." said Udina, skeptical. "It's an elaborate video presentation, yes, but the council will certainly want to examine it closely for signs of forgery."

"We could also cross reference the battle plans with the data from Shepard's ground team's hard-suits, not to mention the debriefs from the surviving troops and the Normandy's scans."

"None of which will matter if it turns out to be a forgery. Jensen, is the quarian willing to testify under a VK device as to the authenticity of this?"

"Ask me again when she's not sick and unconscious," Jensen responded flatly. "But when you consider that several chemically augmented turian clones were after her for it..."

"Hmph, better that we don't involve the quarian with the proceedings, it might just damage our credibility." He turned to Anderson. "_You _did plenty to damage it with Shepard's _dreams_, already. And then _she_ had to open her big mouth."

Anderson gave Udina a dirty look. Adam spoke up before he could fire back. "What's all this talk about Shibboleths, Conduits and Reapers?"

"That?" Udina rolled his eyes. "Saren's taking a page from every dictator's handbook and playing on the Geth's religious superstitions. You heard the woman call him the 'Machine Messiah'."

"And the fact that he's managed to manipulate _androids _into becoming _religiously and_ _fanatically devoted _to him doesn't strike you as odd or even slightly ominous?"

"I know Saren," Anderson said to Jensen. "He's working with the Geth for one reason: To exterminate the entire human race! Every colony we have is at risk! Every world we control is danger! Even Earth isn't safe!"

"...I don't buy it. If he just wanted a body count in the millions he would have just dropped an asteroid on Eden Prime from high orbit and called it a day. And he would have followed that up immediately with another attack."

Udina put a hand on his chin, thinking. "Well, the Beacon is too tempting a prize to pass up, or destroy."

"It is, which makes things even weirder. It'd have been smarter to have it stolen discreetly. Instead, Saren tips his hand by attacking an entire colony with his army of robots. Something's wrong here."

"Saren loves the violence, trust me," Anderson frowned for emphasis, "I know. A bombardment would be to impersonal for him. A theft would be TOO discreet."

Adam raised an eyebrow. This was getting personal for Anderson. Too personal. "I think there's more to this than just Saren and a personal vendetta against all of mankind. Something else is at work here, and this...Shibboleth, the Conduit, and the 'Reapers' are important to it somehow."

"Regardless," added the diplomat. "This data should at least be enough for the Council to summon Saren to personally confront our charges. I should go an deliver a copy of this to them as soon as possible. Jensen?" he snapped his fingers. "Make me a copy."

Jensen complied, despite his annoyance and being finger-snapped at. He slotted a data-stick into his Omni-Tool, dragged and dropped a holographic cube from one holographic basket to another. A radial progress bar appeared, tracking the progress of the data transfer.

"I'm including what we found in Fist's Pocket Secretary and his Laptop. We know he was working with Saren, so I'm hoping there's something in there that will incriminate him a little extra."

"Hm, I'll have the Alliance Intel Operative have a look at it. Speaking of which, how's the investigation into Shepard's murder going?"

"I've made some progress. That's all I can say on the matter."

"_Some_ progress? I'm surprised there was _any_ sort of progress between you holding this critical piece of evidence hostage to save your quarian _girlfriend_ and watching over her like a loyal dog."

"Don't forget getting sidetracked by the whole 'rescuing-my-partner-and-keeping-a-critical-piece-of-evidence-that-will-allow-you-to-_bring-a-mass-murderer-to-justice-_out-of -said-murderer's-hands' thing."

"And for that, we are grateful, " said Anderson. "Aren't we, Udina?"

"I..._suppose_ we are, yes. I was going to say that Agent..." He activated his pocket secretary and opened his email. "...Sarah Walker will be arriving on the Citadel very soon to head up the investigation. I expect you to not be so easily sidetracked while under her watch, is that clear, Jensen?"

"Crystal." answered Jensen as he handed the data-stick over. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Jensen." Udina dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "You can leave."

Jensen nodded slightly to Anderson and made for the door. Once the cyborg was out of the briefing room, Udina broke the silence.

"So, Anderson, what do you think of Adam Jensen?"

Anderson raised an eyebrow – it was a curious thing to ask all of a sudden. "I think he and his partner went above and beyond the call of duty to make sure Saren gets his due."

"Is that...admiration in your voice? Is that why you didn't arrest him?"

"_Arrest_ him? For _helping_ us?!" Anderson couldn't believe what he was hearing. He didn't think Udina could be that ungrateful.

"For crashing an ambulance in our docks, for damaging Alliance property, for forcing his way into your ship and making demands of the Alliance to waste valuable medical resources on some quarian vagrant by withholding critical evidence!"

"Yes, that was dick move on his part, no denying it! But what really, really angers me about that situation was that he felt the need to do it! I would have had Chakwas treat the girl! Hell, I'm certain she would have done it even if I ordered her not to! I told him so, but Jensen didn't believe me, at _all_! And you know what? If it hadn't been for some truly, disgustingly idiotic behaviour from our part, he would have never done what he did!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, the Alliance-"

"-fucked him. We fucked him at Elysium. The man who helped save a whole colony, and what do we do? We alert Order cultists of his whereabouts! We ruined his life!"

"The Order _Church _had legitimate grievances with Adam Jensen! They had a right to know!"

"They're a CULT, Udina! And a pack of terrorist murderers to boot! As for their 'legitimate grievances', it's the same grievance they have against anyone with electronics in their bodies, including biotics! Including _Shepard!"_

"Whatever else the Church may be, it is also an organization with a membership counted in the hundreds of millions! It is an organization that all nation-states on Earth and by extension the Alliance itself has to deal with on the political arena! The Order did not appreciate us not holding Jensen for them, and unless you want the Alliance caught up in a war with the Templars that means the next time you have a golden opportunity to subdue Jensen, you're going to take it, you're going to bring him to Earth, and you're going to deliver him right to Her Holiness' doorstep with a card saying 'courtesy of the Systems Alliance'! "

"...No."

"What?"

"You may have forgotten this, but you're not military: you don't get to tell me to do squat."

"Maybe not, but the Admiralty is in fact part of the military and can tell you to do squat and otherwise. In a few days, an encrypted email will be sent to every ship in the fleet with standing orders for every officer. If Jensen sets foot on Alliance sovereign territory, including space vessels and installations, he is to be captured and brought to Earth."

"...I don't believe you. Jensen is only one man and he's not a threat to us. Parliament couldn't possibly-"

"-_Never_ underestimate what just one man can do to harm a nation, Anderson."

"Harm a nation?! Udina, he was instrumental in saving Elysium!"

"It was Sergeant Reynolds that rallied Elysium's militia and _no one else._"

"And Jensen was part of that! Even Reynolds said his defense would have crumbled without him! Moreover, he's become a decorated C-Sec officer! Hell, he's the only decorated human in C-Sec, setting an example for every human in the force! If anything Jensen's looking out _for_ the Alliance!"

"Oh, and you think his 'example' makes us look good? That he's doing us a favor out there? He's shaming us all! He's a walking declaration to all the Citadel races that humans are WEAK. That we need _machines_ to prop ourselves up to keep up with the Turians, the Asari and the Salarians! And you know what else? The _Admirals,_ agree with me. The _Alliance Parliament_, agrees with me." Udina made his way to the door, turning his back on Anderson. "Start to learn to be a team player in the game of politics, Anderson. Hackett and Yang do, and that's why they are admirals while you're still a Captain. I'll speak of this with Operative Walker, maybe she could help us set up a trap once this policy becomes...official."

Just as the door opened, Anderson spoke: "Udina?"

Udina stopped past the doorway and turned to face Anderson. "Hm?"

"When you hand over that evidence to the Council, and when they come back to you and declare Saren rogue, vindicating you in front of every representative of the Citadel races, I want you to remember this: It was a _quarian_, a _turian_ and a _cyborg_ that made it all possible.

Udina sneered, and the door shut itself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Ambassador made his way to the airlock near the bow of the mostly deserted ship. He had hoped for a proper escort for a man of his importance, but most of the sailors and all of the marines on the ship were on shore leave. Only the helm was manned by two men. One of them, the helmsman, sitting in the middle chair, was quite busy watching some vids. He cleared his throat meaningfully.<p>

"You. Open the airlock." he commanded.

The helmsman looked behind him, not even leaving his seat, and silently complied and got back to his viewing, barely paying attention to Udina. The ambassador considered taking umbrage at that slight, but he had a meeting with the Council to get to. The airlock hissed open, and Udina stepped through. He always hated the decontamination process in these things. Rumors of them causing baldness and impotence danced in the back of his head, and he dismissed them as just that: rumors.

The hatch leading into the ship closed, and the ship's VI spoke. "_Initiating decontamination process. Please hold still._"

The decon field washed over Udina, and his skin tingled as it came over him. The field came for another pass, and Udina noticed something in the corner of his eyes. The field came over again, and it outlined an invisible, humanoid shape. Udina tried to scream, but he could feel an iron grip over his mouth, and it lifted him by the head and slammed him against the hull.

"We need to talk." said Jensen.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The hatch closed behind ambassador Udina and, once he was certain he wouldn't be heard by any politicians, Joker spoke up. "I really hate that guy."<p>

Besides him, Kaidan Alenko only let out a "Hm" and Joker was disappointed. He had hoped to get something more out of the Staff Lieutenant than just that. Then again, everyone hated Udina, so he might as well have said "space is big".

Joker sighed. Alenko had taken Shepard's death harder than anyone else, and he had hoped to cheer him up just a little. Then again, rumor had it that he and Shepard were romantically involved. Joker wasn't a hundred percent sure if that was true, scuttlebutt being what it was, but on the other hand, trying to make idle chatter probably wasn't the way to relieve someone's grief.

He focused his attention back on the video Jenkins had just IM'ed him a link to. It was narrated by Mister Weltall, some excitable salarian with a love of police violence. This one was the latest in a long series dedicated to both Vakarian and Jensen, a car chase straight out of the action vids. He hadn't checked out the others, but the preview screenshots looked kind of exciting. Joker was about to click on some of the more promising ones when he heard the pitter-patter of combat boots. It was Jenkins.

"So, did you see it?" said Jenkins excitedly.

"Yep, I saw."

"I mean, wow! I always thought C-Sec was run by a bunch of chumps, but this has opened my eyes! C-Sec kicks ass! Maybe after my tour of duty if over, maybe, maybe I should sign up? What do you think?"

"Whoa there, Dirty Harry. Joining C-Sec means kissing Udina's ass. Or the Councilors. And from what I hear you didn't make that good an impression on the former."

Jenkins' enthusiasm faded quickly. "Aw, man... And getting the Council's attention is a lost cause..."

"If you feel that strongly about it you can always sign up for one of the police forces on Earth. I hear New York is hiring! Bonus: it's nice this time of the year. Hardly any drive-by shootings this week!"

"Now you're just making fun of me."

"I maybe just might just a little. Seriously though. If you want that kind of action working for the police, Detroit's the place to-"

The airlock hissed open, and joker swiveled his chair to get a look. Jensen came out. "Huh, speak of the Devil. Wait a minute, I don't remember seeing you get in...there..."

Jensen smirked just a little, then he turned from the three men and made his way back to the Normandy's sick-bay. "Your ambassador just pissed himself."

Joker stared at Jenkins first, who was staring back, then at Alenko, who was also staring back, and Joker turned his gaze back on Jenkins.

"You, help me up, right _now._"

Jenkins helped Joker up, keeping an eye on his leg braces and making sure they didn't come under any sudden stress. While he did so, Alenko darted towards the airlock, and just stared at what was inside. Joker and Jenkins followed suit, and all three sailors were looking upon the fallen form of ambassador Donnel Udina, representative of all humanity to the entire galaxy, with a growing liquid stain on his pants and a look of quiet terror on his face, which was quickly replaced with one of indignant fury.

"Well?!" he shouted. "What are you staring at?!"

The three men said nothing, not quite sure how to process the scene. It was Joker that broke the silence. "Well, Jenkins here really, _really_ wants to join C-Sec, and..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: RELIGION: THE ORDER CHURCH<p>

_The Order Church is a trans-denominational religious group dedicated to the pursuit of natural balance led by the mysterious figure Her Holiness. They work toward personal fulfillment through non-material means and are very protective of the natural state of humankind and the environment. The group has spread worldwide since the Collapse, appealing to people by offering peace and solace from chaos. Every city on earth and its colonies is now represented by a 'shard' of the church, led by a high official bearing the title Luminon. The Church has a membership of more than two hundred million humans, with a growing number of non-humans joining the ranks. Their membership also includes high profile politicians and celebrities in every major superpower on Earth, which gives it great political pull over the Systems Alliance. A factor in this are the_ Templars, the Order's own paramilitary force. The Templar's equipment and vehicles are said to rival, and even surpass, that of the Alliance. Their fleet, however, is comparatively much smaller, composed of a dozen frigates and hundreds of fighters housed inside a carrier called the Hand of Baphomet. _  
><em>

_The Church opposes modern cybernetics and genetic modifications, including biotic implants. They have, however, stated that they are not against biotics, but believe that true biotic potential _(in the words of Her Holiness)_ is 'deep within the domain of the soul' cannot be reached by 'polluting our minds and bodies with electronics'. This position is the prime reason why the Order is suspected to be behind dozens of anti-biomodification terrorist groups, but no law-enforcement agency has been able to find conclusive proof of this._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes<strong>: Looks like Udina forgot Jensen has very good hearing. I'll just let you imagine what Jensen said to Udina. :3 And gee, I wonder who this Sarah Walker could be?_

_I...kinda made up Dereliction of Duty of Care. I'm certain there's a law against hospitals refusing to care for the dangerously ill, and if there isn't there ought to be. Any lawyers or law students want to clear this up? _

_Weltall means "Universe" in german._


	12. Chapter 10: Preparations

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**Chapter 10: Preparations  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"Whew! Well, that was quite a day, huh?" asked Garrus as he closed the X3M's side door and slumped into the seat. It was an automated cab, a small but comfy two-seater run by a VI linked to the Navi Traffic System for people who couldn't or wouldn't pilot an aircar. Jensen was already punching in the coordinates for his apartment first, then Vakarian's, and he slid his credit chit into the nav computer's slot. The VI helped itself to two thousand credits, warmed up the cab's engines, and flew away from the C-Sec's Main Headquarters' parking docks.<p>

Jensen and Vakarian had just personally reported their recent actions to Executor Pallin, who was just about ready to send them to rot in a prison cell. Jensen's car's pulse beacon had been transmitting in the middle of Zakera's slums when the riot broke out, and just before that Chief Quaestor had reported Jensen and Vakarian's involvement in a unsanctioned raid on Chora's Den, which had resulted in the death of its owner and more than two dozen of his 'employees'. The crowning event however, was causing the crash of a SkyRover into a (thankfully shielded) high-rise, highjacking it from its passengers beforehand. Pallin was not happy to hear the crash was connected to the riot.

The raid, Pallin could forgive. Barely. Fist had been a blight on the Citadel and, as a bonus, the raid had also resulted in the capture of Doc Bolton, one of the most sadistic criminals in Citadel space. The riot? Not so much: Jensen and Vakarian had continued an investigation Pallin had ordered them to stop, and all that they had to show for it was a sick quarian they didn't even bring in for questioning. Garrus felt at that moment that Pallin would bring down the axe on their heads for that. Instead, Jensen did something Garrus would never, ever forget.

He threw the book right back at Pallin.

_**~[h+]~**_

"_You never put a stop to the investigation."_

"_I believe I did, detective. My exact words: Your investigation is over."_

"_I never got an order from our Lieutenant. Did you, Vakarian?"_

"_Er..." Garrus wasn't sure where Jensen was going with this. "Now that I think about it...no. No, I didn't."_

"_Neither did I. Fact is, I suspect that if I were to call her right now, she'd tell me she never got the order to shut down the Saren case from our Captain, and if I were to call the Captain he'd tell me he'd never got the order from the rest of the chain of command. Fact is, your exact words were a statement, not an order, and you didn't bother to file the paperwork and relay the shutdown order to the Superintendent. Chain of command goes both ways, Pallin, and you can't punish us for disobeying an order _you never officially gave."

_**~[h+]~**_

Garrus chuckled.

"What?" Jensen asked.

"I just remembered the look on Pallin's face when you reminded him about the chain of command. Him. The _Executor_ of all people. _Priceless._"

"Yeah well, he knows the book as well as I do, unfortunately."

"Ah..." Garrus' mirth deflated quickly. "...yeah."

The fact of the matter was that both Garrus and Jensen had both acted against Fist without the authority of a warrant. Vakarian did it first, trying to find a quarian that wasn't even at the Den, and then Jensen had gone in trying to rescue him. That was enough to suspend them for a week without pay while Pallin investigated their story about bio-modified turians further.

Garrus' mandibles flared a bit. "Maybe we shouldn't have been so earnest telling our story?"

"I think Pallin deserves better than us lying to him, don't you?"

Garrus was quiet as the aircab was now entering Bachjret Ward's artificial atmosphere. He didn't stay quiet for long: "...I suppose he could have been more severe. I thought he'd have us hang for the SkyRover crash, though. Reckless endangerment, and all that."

"Well, you tried pulling them over, and they shot you with a GEP gun, so as far as endangerment goes those Asari were the ones responsible. We've got a right to defend ourselves. Wouldn't be very good cops if we couldn't."

"Still, you ever get the feeling Pallin's just looking for an excuse to fire us?"

"It's part of his job, Vakarian. He has to hold us to a high standard. We're not above the law: one misstep and our cases go down the toilet and criminals get away."

"It's kind of hard to play it by the book when the people who write it don't take rogue Spectres with their own private army into account."

Adam sighed. "I know. Hopefully that's the last time us detectives have to deal with paramilitary goons."

"...Right, also, we're just a _few days away from retirement. What could possibly go wrong?_"

Despite himself, Jensen couldn't resist to snicker a bit. "Smartass."

"I'm just saying, I don't think Saren's just going to let this go. Might want to pay Requisitions a visit as soon as we're done with this..." Garrus grimaced. "..._vacation time _Pallin dumped on us."

"I thought you'd be happy for some time off."

"I thought _you _would want to get right back to investigating the Shepard case."

"I do, but I honestly doubt the Alliance's spooks would let me continue once they take the investigation over. Me and the alliance...we don't get along too much."

"Once day you'll have to tell me why so many people on Earth seem to have it in for you."

"I honestly don't know, Vakarian."

The aircab's VI sounded off, declaring the first destination reached. It landed the vehicle near Jensen's apartment building,

"Well," said Jensen as he opened the car's door, "that's me. Take care of yourself."

"Good night, Jensen."

_**~[h+]~**_

Inside a private room within a first-class passenger liner headed for the Citadel, a human woman, tall, buxom was getting dressed, putting on a form fitting body suit that served as webbing for various gadgets. On the bed was a black and white uniform and several other more casual attires meant to go over the suit. Next to the outfits was a suitcase full of fake dossiers and documents written in complex geometric code. They detailed a whole life, and that had been decoded and painstakingly memorized and absorbed in less than an minute. More importantly, the suitcase also contained papers and forgeries that would allow one some limited authority over C-Sec, enough to take over the Shepard case. The Shadow Broker had been clear: find out everything there is to find out: fingermen, triggermen, accomplices, money trails, the guilty, the innocent, _everything_.

"_**Agent Brea, report." **_asked the warped voice through the blonde woman's datalink.

She answered the voice in her head silently through her link. "I've reactivated the Sarah Walker identity as ordered. Has the Alliance Intel agent been intercepted?"

"_**She has been neutralized. We can keep Alliance Intel unaware as long as we keep sending regular reports back to HQ. I predict it'll take at least a week before they catch on."**_

_Good, _she privately thought to herself. The last thing she needed was getting her cover blown.

"_**It has been a while since you've been on the field. Are you sure you're ready for this?"**_

"I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Honestly? I would have preferred a little more time to prepare more assets for this op. And I hate getting hands-on."

"_**Time is of the essence. You're the closest and the best. Urdnot Wrex and Barla Von will provide adequate amounts of muscle and brains, respectively. Hein will be arriving at the Citadel in the Durendal along with the Deep Eyes Squad shortly. Call on them if you need their assistance."**_

"Hein? What's he doing in the Citadel?"

"_**He's trying to put Edward Grey forward as a Spectre candidate for the UNAS, amongst other things."**_

"Are you sure I can trust the 'General'? He's a little erratic."

"_**...I trust him."**_

Brea was shocked. The Shadow Broker, the very spider in the middle of a web of intrigue that spanned the whole galaxy, trusted some washed out officer of the United States Marine Corps? She wasn't quite sure how to process that.

"_**In any case, it isn't likely you'll need Wrex or the Deep Eyes, not with Jensen at your side."**_

She grimaced at the idea. Ah yes, Adam Jensen, one of the Citadel's two supercops. "Sir? Do you really want me to develop Jensen as an asset for this op? I've read his profile: his distaste for intelligence agencies and their agents is bound to make him uncooperative."

"_**A woman is dead and the perpetrator is still at large. You will be the only way Shepard will get any justice. He **_**will****_ cooperate. Otherwise, appeal to his sense of chivalry, or seduce him." _**

"I just don't think I'll need him."

"_**Jensen's involvement in this case is not optional. He has languished in the Citadel long enough, and it is time he was brought into the fold. Is that clear?"**_

"Crystal."

And without so much as a goodbye, the datalink shut off, leaving Agent Brea alone with her thoughts. The VI spoke over the intercom, declaring the arrival time: the ship would be docking in less than an hour. She had plans to prepare.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Well, If we're going to take him down, we might want to use a rocket launcher," said Gregory Adams, the Normandy's chief engineer. He was scratching the back of his shaved head. "Or maybe drop a Mako on him."

In the middle of the Normandy's darkened communications room, a life-size transparent hologram of Adam Jensen was slowly spinning, allowing the people in the room to see exactly what they were going to deal with. Doctor Chakwas had taken medical scans of Jensen to see if he was alright, and she wasn't pleased to see them used to plot someone's capture. She was staring daggers at Captain Anderson, an expression accentuated by the blue glow of the hologram. Anderson frowned: He didn't want to do this either, but when he confronted Admiral Hackett about capturing Jensen, he had taken the opportunity to order him to prepare, thus validating Udina's claims.

The engineer continued: "Basically, Jensen's a Krogan at about a quarter of the weight, so that makes him quicker than one to boot. He's got this is a supple, micro-thin material implanted under his skin, a phased composite. The base is a microfiber weave made from carbon nanotubes suspended in a shear-thickening fluid which grants him hardsuit level protection without the shields. Put in him a heavy hard-suit, and, well..."

"He'd be nearly unstoppable." said Anderson.

"Yeah. Good thing C-Sec only hands out the light ones."

Gunnery Chief Williams raised her hand slightly. "What about EMP grenades? Would that shut his implants down?"

Adams shook his head. "Those dermal implant have electromagnetically conductive elements in them. A grenade won't cut it. Generator might shut him down, but that would take time to set up and he'd have to be right on top of it."

"What about nerve disruptor?" Williams suggested. "The kind-"

"The kind _Batarian slavers_ use, Chief?" Chakwas completed the sentence for her.

"Well... Yes?"

Jenkins spoke up "Um...Wouldn't that involve getting up close and personal to put it on him?"

"It would," said Chakwas, "as a matter of fact."

"Well, me and Joker saw plenty of vids of Jensen - by this Weltall guy? - and...well, I'm thinkin' anything involving hand-to-hand with Jensen is a bad idea."

Adams agreed. "He's got myomer cables for muscles, Chief. Plus..." He highlighted an implant at the base of the Jensen hologram's skull. "That thing supercharges his reflexes-"

"-By about one hundred and fifty percent." Chakwas interrupted.

"-By about one hundred and fifty percent, like doctor says. He's not only stronger than a marine, he's also quicker. He'll dance circles around you and you won't be able to land a hit on him."

Williams sighed exasperatedly and made one final suggestion. "What about gas?"

Dr. Chakwas was the only one who could answer that. When she failed to do so, Anderson prodded her. "Doctor?"

"...It might work," she said finally. "Depending on the gas. Anything that acts on the lungs is out of the question: Jensen has an implanted rebreather with its own oxygen supply wired to sensors at the base of this throat and his nostrils. Something absorbed through the skin might work. I say MIGHT, because..." The doctor tweaked some holographic controls, highlighting several implants and a multitude of hair-thin conduits throughout Jensen's abdomen. "...of these."

"What are we looking at?" Anderson asked.

Adams answered only with a shrug. Chakwas continued: "I was curious as to why Jensen was virtually unscathed. Vakarian had told me that Jensen fell several hundred meters into the roof of a car, using his body to cushion Tali'Zorah, and yet there wasn't a scratch on him. He did, however, have quite a few micro-fractures, which these were integral in repairing. Near as I can tell, this-" she pointed at an implant near Jensen's heart. "Boosts Angiogenesis, and these-" she highlighted the multitude of strands "-determine precisely where the resulting proteins need to be delivered. And that's just for trauma. I have no idea what the other implants linked to that network of hair-thin sensors will do once we introduce an anesthetic to his system."

Adams whistled. "Damn, so he's not tough as a Krogan, he heals up like one too. And here I am, scratching my head as to why we haven't got more people like him in our side. They had this tech back in 2027, and here we are just using plain ol' gene-mods."

Williams was shock was barely contained. "You approve of...this?!"

"Well, yes, actually! I mean, _look_ at all this! Here we've got a guy who can shrug off bullets and lightning, handle heavy weaponry with near-perfect precision and easily lift half a ton without wearing a hard-suit or power armor! Can you imagine the difference that a hundred soldiers kitted out like that could have made on Torfan? Or the Blitz?"

The Gunnery Chief was getting ready fire off a retort, but Anderson didn't give her a chance to do so. "Chief, Lieutenant, we're not here to argue about the pros and cons of augmentations. We're here to devise tactics against an augmented individual and _nothing more_. Is that clear?

Williams calmed herself down. "Right, sorry sir. What about biotics? Those would work wonders on him, right?"

"They didn't have Biotics back in 2027..." supplied Jenkins. Adams began to wince and rub the back of his head.

"What?" asked Williams.

Adams stopped rubbing the back of his head. "Well...Jensen's got kinetic bleeders. Trying to Lift or Push him may not work too well- Kaidan would have to put in extra power to compensate."

"Oh come on!" Williams threw her hands in the air. "There's no way Sarif could have predicted BIOTICS of all things!"

Adams scratched his chin. "No, he couldn't have..."

"What about Stasis?" asked Anderson. "Can he resist that?"

"Hm?" Adams looked up, snapped out of his thoughts. "No, I don't think so. Not unless he has his own biotics which, evidently..." he pointed at the hologram. "...he doesn't. But I'm not the expert on biotics around here. Where's Alenko, Anderson?"

"He's...not feeling too well."

"Biotics acting up?"

"...Yes," Anderson lied. Adams wasn't in the know about Alenko's relationship with Shepard, and what her loss meant to him. He didn't see the point in illuminating him now. "In any case, Kaidan's Sentinel training covered Stasis. We'll try and form a strategy around that."

An hour passed as Anderson, Adams, Williams and Jenkins tried to come up with tactics to take down Jensen. Chakwas stood silently as the four plotted and only offered her opinions when they were asked for. Finally, Anderson checked the clock: it was eleven hundred hours on the ship's clock.

"Alright, that's enough for today." declared the captain as he pressed a couple of buttons on the comm room's console. The lights came on as Jensen's hologram disappeared. "I've got this session recorded – we'll review and put those plans on paper tomorrow. You're dismissed."

Anderson watched as his four crewmen saluted and made their way out of the circular room. Anderson was the last to leave, and he found Jenkins waiting for him.

"Sir." Jenkins saluted. "Permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

"...Why are we planning to capture or kill the guy who helped us finger Saren as a mass murderer? And why aren't we going after Saren _right now?_"

Anderson was tempted to put the Corporal in his place, to remind him of his rank and that it wasn't up to him to question Command's decisions. But he still felt the need to explain himself to the boy.

"We aren't going after Saren right away because he operates in the Traverse, which is far too close to the Terminus systems. It's a hornet's nest the and the Council doesn't want to see it stirred."

"I understand that, but we're on a _stealth ship! _We could go in the traverse – or even the terminus with no one the wiser and-"

"-And what, son? The Normandy's a fine ship, you know that, I know that... but she's only one ship. She won't do much good against a dreadnought or a fleet of geth ships. And as for Jensen...as for Jensen, we're just considering scenarios – we do this for everyone and everything we meet." He put a hand on Jenkins' shoulder, "Honestly? Odds are we'll never put these tactics into use."

"I hope so...It wouldn't be right."

"I know, son. I know."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: SYSTEMS ALLIANCE: ALLIANCE INTELLIGENCE AGENCY<p>

_The Alliance Intelligence Agency (AIA) or Alliance Intel for short is the Alliance's answer to organizations such as the Salarian Union's Special Tasks Group (STG) and the Turian Hierarchy's Frumentarii. Over the years, the AIA has become a capable rival to each of those organizations, an unspoken factor in the meteoric rise of the Systems Alliance on the Galactic stage._

_The organization was initially formed from a cooperation of agents and assets from the United North American States' CIA, the European Union's DGSE and the Oceanic Cooperative Union's DIO, and it is responsible for providing the System's Alliance with national security intelligence assessments to its policy makers. The AIA also oversees sensitive tactical operations run by the Alliance Navy, and sometimes even engages in covert operations with its own agents to immediately (and quietly) suppress and neutralize threats through a combination of infiltration, reconnaissance, assassination, and sabotage. _

CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: SHIPS: USSV DURENDAL

_The Durendal (named after a legendary broken sword from ancient earth mythology) is a United States Space Navy light cruiser , the last of the three prototypes built under DARPA's stealth cruiser project started in 2172.. The 210 m long craft was meant to provide transport and support for several squads of infantry, a shuttle and a Wanzer, and covertly insert them behind enemy lines thanks to a suite of stealth systems. Its main gun, should it have been completed, would have made the Durendal an ideal capital ship killer._

_Unfortunately, countless engineering issues kept the project from progressing. The project was eventually canceled 2178, two of the prototypes were scrapped and the parts were donated to the Alliance's Normandy Project. The Durendal is the only of the three prototypes to have remained space worthy. Today, the vessel is used by DARPA to ferry hardware and personel to various research centers throughout Alliance space. Earth's media has dubbed the vessel: "A testament to the UNAS' wasteful military overspending."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>I know, I know. A whole month of nothing and only three thousand words to show for it. Actually, I decided to clip off 500 words off of this chapter to put it at the beginning of chapter 11, which I will be working on this weekend. And hey! The Codex Entries are back! _


	13. Chapter 11: The selection process

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 11: The selection process**_

_Early author's note: Hein is voiced by James Woods._

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

_Something was wrong about this place._

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Adam's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of unseen strangers that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

"_Hello?" Adam's voice echoed. "Is anyone out there?" _

_The distant laughter of children answered his call, but Adam simply couldn't find its source. He called out again, louder this time, and the laughter quieted. Off the corner of his eye, Jensen spotted something moving. He turned to get a better look, and he saw a young boy of eight, dressed in black pants and a blue hooded sweatshirt running behind a tree. When Adam approached the tree to speak to the hiding boy, however, he could find no trace of the child anywhere._

_More movement in the corner of his vision. The same boy, running deeper in the forest. Adam gave chase, hoping that the child could lead him out of the forest, only for him to vanish behind another tree. The boy reappeared elsewhere, and elsewhere again, and it took a moment for Adam to realize that he was chasing twins. Twins, running towards a woman in a white coat and light brown hair._

"_Megan..." Adam's stopped his pursuit at the sight of her._

_The two boys happily came up to Megan, who welcomed them with a warm smile. She knelt to embrace them both, hugging them tightly as if they were her own children. One of them pulled away from her embrace. He had something to show her, something amazing! A glowing orb, a drop of the sun the size of an orange. Megan was fascinated, and as she reached out to touch the ball of sunlight Adam braced himself for what was to come. He had been here before, he had suffered through this before, and try as he might to stop her, try as he might to wake from this nightmare he knew it was futile: He would suffer the sunfire again, watch as Megan and the two boys turn to ash in an instant again, and would endure as a wave of fire cooked off his flesh down to the very bones again. _

_But bathing in a sea of flames was never the worst part._

_The worst part was, as always, the screaming of a hundred children._

"_I'm sorry." Adam told them, sobbing, but the tears evaporated in the flames, along with everything else._

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen opened his eyes and gasped as he suddenly half-rose his couch, sweat beading on his body. He looked at his arms, and he sighed in relief as he confirmed they hadn't melted off in the heat.

_That dream again, _Jensen thought. It had haunted his nights too frequently, disturbing his rest to the point where Jensen dreaded going to sleep sometimes. The pills helped get enough REM phase sleep, but they pretty much guaranteed the nightmares.

Jensen cradled his face for a moment, took a deep breath, exhaled, and made his way to the balcony for some fresh air (at least, what passed for fresh air on an ancient space station). The day globes hovering above Bachjret Ward were casting a dim orange light over the city. It was the beginning of a brand new day.

He began his usual routine (which had been disrupted yesterday by that emergency call) by taking a long shower, then brushing his teeth, then maintaining his facial hair (a post-it on the mirror said: _see a barber, head's getting a bit shaggy_). Once the trimming was done and the shaving gel residue was washed off, Jensen took a moment staring at the mirror and finally realized something he had forgotten after all these years.

"Jesus Christ, I'm _forty-six," _Adam said to himself out loud. If he included the time in he spent on ice, the number went all the way up to one hundred and ninety. And yet, looking into that mirror, he saw the man he had looked like all the way back in 2027. Try as he might, Adam simply couldn't find any extra wrinkles, any sagging bit of skin, or even one gray hair. He wondered if decelerated aging was a side effect of the meds Sarif had injected him before putting him in the freezer, or the Sentinel RX-2 system's, or whatever the hell White Helix Labs had done to him when he was a boy. Or maybe, just maybe, he was just one of the lucky folks that wouldn't look a day over forty until his sixtieth birthday.

Deciding that dwelling on his apparent youth would not be time well spent, Jensen stopped staring at the mirror, dried himself, and put on a plain t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts. His stomach growled: the adventure from the day before had taxed his energy reserves, and his metabolism had been fiercely burning calories to replenish his batteries. Jensen cursed Sarif's upgrades: Sure, he no longer needed to eat a candy bar every time he punched someone, but the tradeoff were some mighty hungers that really put a strain on a food budget. Oh well, it was time for breakfast in any case.

Room 451 was a loft, one hundred and seventy cubic meters of space Jensen had filled with various bits of junk and detritus (along with the basic necessities and a few luxuries). In contrast to the mess that surrounded his long leather couch and coffee table, the kitchen area was incredibly clean and tidy: Adam didn't mess around when it came to cooking food.

"TV, on. News." Jensen said aloud, and the VI controlling the various electronics around the loft responded to his voice and activated the electronic wallpaper that covered the walls. It created a several 16:9 video windows where Jensen would be able to see the news as he prepared his food. The video went through the usual: the planned fake weather, events around the Citadel, and so on. As Jensen opened his fridge to take out the ingredients needed for an omelette , he heard the familiar sound of one of the Powers that Be, Salarian Councilor Valern, over the omni-directional speakers.

"_The evidence has been thoroughly analyzed, and it has found to be irrefutable: Saren Arterius is responsible for the Eden Prime massacre and has become a threat to the peace of the the galaxy by allying himself with the Geth."_

Bacon, leftover potatoes, twelve eggs, Thessian frying peppers (red AND green). Adam put the ingredients on the counter and an oiled frying pan on the stove at high heat. Sparatus, the Turian spoke up:

"_Since Saren has not answered our summons to personally face his accuser and defend himself in light of this evidence, we have decided to strip him of his Spectre Status, effective immediately, and the Council will do what is necessary to bring him to justice."_

Jensen chopped the peppers up with the speed and precision of a machine. He had gone through every pepper in ten seconds; they were ready to be fried, but the pan wasn't quite hot yet. While it heated up on the stove, Adam started breaking the twelve eggs into a metal bowl and beat them with a whisk.

"_Ambassador Udina?" _asked Tevos, the Asari Councillor. "_Do you have anything else to add?"_

"_Err...Yes. The Systems Alliance would like to thank..."_

"_...Yes?"_

"_We would like to thank pilgrim Tali'Zorah nar Rayya and C-sec Detectives Garrus Vakarian and...Adam Jensen..." _Adam looked up at one of the screens: Udina was wincing like he was passing a kidney stone._ "...for their efforts in bringing this evidence to light. Were it not for their efforts, the thousands of innocents dead on Eden Prime would have received no justice."_

Adam smirked as the three councilors looked at each other, confirming each other's incredulity: Udina was not known to show any kind of gratitude to anyone and quick to take any and all credit for humanity whenever he could grab it. It must have taken every ounce of willpower for the good ambassador to say every word that just left his mouth.

"_Of course," _he continued. _"I must ask how soon justice will be served! Has the fleet been sent into the Traverse?"_

"_Sending in the fleet in is unnecessary," _answered Sparatus._ "Saren is a man on the run for his life and his resources as a Spectre have been stripped away from him"_

"_And a fleet is not an appropriate, or effective, response to a fugitive," said Valern._

Udina was indignant, and started pointing his finger at the council._"It is an appropriate response to a fugitive in command of **a dreadnought and an army of Geth! **Send your fleet in! Keep our colonies secure!"_

"Ah, Udina..." said Adam as he fried his peppers. "You were doing so well." As much as he hated to admit it, though, Udina had a point.

"_And a peacekeeping fleet in the Traverse would start a war with the Terminus systems! We will not start a war and potentially sacrifice billions of lives for the sake of a handful of human colonies!"_

Then again, Sparatus had one too. Adam added the bacon into the frying pan.

As always, Tevos had to be the voice of reason. _"Gentlemen, there is an appropriate response that involves neither fleet nor army."_

Sparatus was shocked, but no more than Udina. _"Do you mean...?"_

"_Humanity is about to get one of its wishes fulfilled, Ambassador. However, since your prime candidate has...regrettably been lost to us, we must ask you to reevaluate and resend us your list of candidates. Until you do, this meeting is adjourned."_

The footage cut to Emily Wong's face, live from the Citadel tower. _"With the implication that a human Spectre will soon be selected, the Citadel is abuzz with rumors as from where this champion will come from. With the reported arrival of the infamous USSV Durendal, a likely candidate is Captain Edward Grey, survivor of the Akuze incident."_

A picture appeared next to Emily: it was a snapshot of a man who vaguely reminded Adam of a younger Ben Affleck.

"_Has the UNAS decided to take a more active role in galactic affairs beyond its colonies? Will the Coalition, the EU and the OCU will follow suit? Only time will tell. This has been Emily Wong, for Citadel News."_

Adam continued his cooking, barely paying attention to the rest of the news. Eventually the peppers and bacon had been cooked and seasoned to his satisfaction, so he lowered the stove top's heat and added in the left over potatoes, allowing them to warm up. Once done, he added the eggs and began mixing the contents of the pan until the mixture looked like runny scrambled eggs. He turned off the heat of the stove-top and set the oven to broil. Adam spread some feta cheese on top of the semi-cooked omelette, waited for the oven to be hot enough, and put the pan into it. Minutes later, Jensen had himself a nice Potato and Pepper Frittata, just like grandma used to make.

He cut the Frittata into four, and served himself up a slice along with some cherry tomatoes. He was just about to take a bite before a hologram popped up in front of his face. The Citadel News site was done with its live stream, and the VI thought Jensen would be interested in knowing more about current events by showing it the C-News extranet site. He was about to dismiss the browser and finally enjoy his food when he noticed that he had a voice-mail in his inbox. He commanded the VI to play it, and the message played as Adam finally took a bite out of his food.

"_Hey Jensen, it's Nayak. One of my boys brought in your car, it was right where your friend Vakarian left it. Well, the inside's more or less okay- one of the forward stabilizer rings is out of alignment- but the outside's seriously fucked. There's dents everywhere and cracks all over the glass canopy. Also there's something in some Terran language scratched on the paint job that says – Oh, that's not very nice. Anyways, I've got a few more cars in need of love and care and I won't be able to start fabricating a new hull and canopy for at least a week. I've attached an estimate of the repair costs. I hope we can work something out, I'd hate to put a classic like that in a recycler. Talk to you soon, Jensen."_

"And here I am suspended without pay for a week. Fantastic." Adam chewed the last piece of his serving of omelette and went for seconds. The holographic browser window followed him around and, with little else to do besides eat some more, decided to press on the thumbnail of a large humanoid robot standing over a battlefield. "Audio only," Adam commanded the VI.

"_Today, The Philippines Secessionist Forces on Earth suffered a major defeat. The OCU's 13th Armoured Wanzer Company, with support from the 501st Infantry battalion, destroyed the defenders of the PSF's primary hidden base in the Cagayan Valley, thus capturing the facility. Judging by the amount of war materiel found there, the OCU military claims that the PSF is effectively defeated. A cessation to hostilities in the region is expected within-"_

Adam closed the browser and quietly finished eating his omelette. _This_ was why he hated hearing any news about Earth: even after all these years, Earth was still divided by invisible lines drawn on maps and political and religious ideologies, the kinds of things men just loved to kill each other over. The other member races of the Citadel had achieved some measure of unity, why couldn't humans?

His belly full, Jensen sat on his couch and took comfort in the fact that despite being around three jumps away from the Citadel, Earth and its troubles were far, far away...

_**~[h+]~**_

In the Citadel's human embassy (which amounted to pretty much a very large and spacious office), Ambassador Udina felt a migraine coming on. Sitting across from to him was a man who had brought the troubles of Earth right to his doorstep. He was a white European human who looked to be in his mid to late forties, with slicked back jet black hair graying at the temples. He was dressed in an all-black USMC officer's uniform which included a long black leather storm coat with silver trim.

"Hein," said Udina, his self-control fraying at the edges, "what are you even doing here? You're not a member of the Alliance and your commission with the United North American States Marine Corps is virtually over. You have _absolutely_ no say in these proceeding.

Hein smirked. "Well, seeing as I'm the chief of DARPA and responsible for providing the Alliance Navy its best toys, including the Normandy-"

"-The Normandy was developed strictly by the Alliance!"

"-On the remains of MY concepts, which the _Turians_ stripped down into a recon frigate. But I wasn't finished: I'm also responsible overseeing the Zeus Project, our entry into the dick-waving competition Hackett – Hi Steve!" he waved at Hackett, who was sitting just a couple of meters away. "- has going with the Turian Hierarchy's Space Force, and it's been a fun decade just watching that monster getting built while dozens of far more interesting and promising projects wither on the vine because of budget cuts, let me tell you. But hey, if helping the Alliance keep its military edge and making sure the Zeus project doesn't explode when we fire up its drives gives me _absolutely_ no pull whatsoever with you (except, you know, it does), then I'll gladly piss off. But I have to ask: if I'm not welcome here..." Hein pointed at Anderson, "what's a frigate captain doing here?"

Anderson raised an eyebrow, wondering why that USMC burnout was paying him any attention. Before he could reply, Hackett came to Anderson's defense. "Anderson was Shepard's commanding officer and is more qualified than anyone here in figuring out a new Spectre candidate."

Hein looked up, as if trying to remember something. "Oh!...right! N7 graduate, first human Spectre candidate ever. I see that's worked _out so very well_ for you, seeing as you're playing with the big boys now. Politically, I mean. Of course, since your candidate has come down with an unfortunate case of _death, _I'm still scratching my head as to why your opinion still counts_..._"

Anderson rose from his chair, ready to strangle Hein. Nobody would make light of Shepard's death. _Nobody. _"Shepard was murdered! And if you think I'm going to let some self important, glorified _accountant_ crack jokes about it, you've got another thing coming, Hein!"

"_Anderson_," ordered Hackett. "Sit down." When Anderson didn't immediately comply, he insisted. "Sit. Down. That's an order." An order which Anderson reluctantly obeyed. But Hackett wasn't done. "Edgar, if you want to have a say in these proceedings..." he gave Hein the kind of glare that could scare off a Varren. "...you _will_ keep your tongue civil. You show that kind of disrespect to the honored dead again, I will have you shot, have your corpse spaced, and the three of us will go on as if nothing happened. Got it?"

Hein just smiled. "Got it. Of course, It's not going to be a long meeting: I've already brought you the best possible candidate." He activated his Omni-Tool and threw orange holographic rings at each of the three other men sitting at the cardinal directions of a round coffee table. Their omni-tools 'caught' the disks, and alerted their respective users of an incoming data transfer. They all accepted, and the holographic image of Captain Edward Grey sprang up on their hands, along with a detailed biography and combat statistics. Udina just laughed.

"Ha! If I ever needed more evidence that you were full of shit, this is it, Hein!" Udina conjured up his email Inbox for all to see on his Omni-Tool. "Do you see these?"

Hein squinted and read one of the email subject lines aloud "Dear...Donnal. R...U...2...Small...4.."

"Not that one!" Udina quickly deleted the offending piece of spam.

Hein snickered. "Problem with your spam filters, Udina?"

Udina ignored him. "I'm talking about THESE! I have emails from the Ambassadors of every major power on Earth! Owens, Chen, Kwanten and De Sable! All of them demand that I submit their lists of candidates to the Council under a veiled threat of ruining the Alliance's economy! And guess what? Owens' list doesn't have an Edward Grey on it!"

Hein waved his hand dismissively. "Pft! Owens wouldn't know a good soldier if one bit him on the ass. I'm certain most of the people on his list are the sons of his friends in the military..."

"_Nathan Frost_ is on the top of that list! Are you saying he's not a good soldier?"

"oh, no no no, he's a magnificent soldier. A _legendary_ soldier...but he's an Army grunt. Never left Earth's orbit and his only insight into what's out there is an Asari porn mag. That, and he's not exactly a leader of men. Edward Grey knows what's out there and he has led men into battle on Mars and beyond. I guarantee you, nobody on these lists of yours have got the experience necessary to be a Spectre. Not only that, he's a certified Wanzer pilot _and_ a Zero-G certified CQC expert. Put Frost in zero-g, and watch and laugh as he loses his lunch."

"As I recall," said Hackett, somewhat unimpressed. "His last sortie was on Akuze. We all know how that worm hunt turned out, don't we? Nine out of twelve of his men gone, 3 Wanzers slagged, and an entire mining station destroyed along with fifty dead civilians. It was Shepard that pulled his ass out of the fire."

"And it was Grey that formulated a strategy that allowed Shepard to kill the remaining two Thresher Maws with, um..._relative_ ease." He sent Anderson a challenging smile. "Call me a liar, I dare ya."

Hackett gave Anderson a curious look. "Anderson? Something to share?"

The Normandy's captain sighed. "Shepard confided in me exactly that. I don't know how the story got twisted around into making Grey look incompetent..." He threw a dirty, meaningful look at Udina. "...but she said that if it weren't for him, she might have died in her APC and would have had to learn how to kill the Maws the hard way. And if she hadn't done that..."

Hein completed Anderson's sentence. "...then the other eight mining installations, plus one refinery, would have perished under a rain of thresher maw acid. Edward's right outside, if you'd like to thank him."

"That won't be necessary," said Hackett, and after some time thinking about it, he made a decision. "Alright, Edward's on the list. Udina?"

The Ambassador harrumphed. "...Fine! But Edward is going to have to run against Frost. I can't very well deny Owens and the UNAS government!"

Hein simply nodded, having just gotten more than he had hoped for. Udina continued: "Now, what am I going to do with the candidate lists from the Coalition, the EU and the OCU? I've got a few hundred names here, quite hastily put together in no particular order along with extensive dossiers for every name – I think they want me to submit the whole thing to the Council!"

Hein smirked. "Leave it to the Coalition to swarm a Spectre selection process... Well, the Council certainly won't be lacking options, won't they?"

"Laugh it up, Hein! This is all your fault! If you hadn't let slip to the rest of the world that a Spectre position was open and that you were going to put Grey in it I wouldn't be in this mess! We need to keep this list short! Every minute the Council spends pondering who the first human Spectre will be is another minute Saren spends working towards the doom of all-"

Hackett put his hand up, stopping Udina from launching himself into a tirade. "Spare us the melodrama, Ambassador. We know what's at stake."

"Let's quickly evaluate the names on the list and pick the two best of each nation to submit," suggested Anderson. "That way we appear fair _and _we'll save time for the Council."

Udina agreed, but wasn't exactly happy at the idea of combing through dossiers. He sighed wearily. "And if the Council doesn't pick their candidate they won't be able to complain to me about it. I'll make sure the Council gives them honorable mentions. Alright then, we might as well deal with the Coalition dossiers first..."

"Shouldn't be too hard," said Hein. "The dossiers are likely heavily redacted."

Udina distributed the files, splitting the work between the four men. To Anderson's and Udina's surprise, Hein worked faster than any of them, picking up their slack. After 30 minutes of reading through personnel dossiers (which were indeed heavily redacted), they had three candidates for the Coalition, their holograms floating above the coffee table. Udina sounded off their names, as if trying to decide if they were good enough to go with 'Humanity's first Spectre'.

"Fei Fong Wong, Helena Zaitsev, and Yang Wenli."

Hackett rose an eyebrow. "Wanzer pilot, Wanzer pilot, armchair Commander. I don't think that's what the Council is looking for."

Hein rose his hand, getting the Admiral's attention. "Yang's called the 'Miracle' and 'Yan Lo's successor' for a reason, Hackett: he could dance circles around you in a fleet battle with just two carrier groups and no dreadnought.

"Not arguing that. As he ever fired a gun at someone, though?"

"He has Marines to do that for him! Look, not all Spectres are the action hero type. Some are just very smooth operators and schemers who use their Spectre authority to coordinate resources and assets against galactic threats. As for the pilots, Fei's a CQC expert and Zaitsev is a crackerjack sniper, skills that serve them well both in AND out of the cockpit."

Udina eyed Hein suspiciously: "You're awfully helpful, considering two of these will be competition for Grey..."

"Not really," said Anderson. "Turians _hate_ Wanzers and those that pilot them. Sparatus will fight tooth and claw to keep them out of the Spectres. Stacking the deck in Grey's favour, Hein?"

Hein laughed: "Are they still sore about Shanxi? Never mind. Stupid question. Of course they are. As for tweaking the odds, well...can you blame me? Besides, any of you want to see the Space Commies have a say galactic affairs? I certainly don't."

"...Be that as it may," said Hackett. "We have to make it look like they got a fair shot at it. Put Yang's name forward, and Zaitsev's. That way we don't look like complete barbarians to the Salarians and we score points with the Asari."

Udina typed on his Omni-Tool's holographic keyboard. "Done. Now, as for the EU, we've got Elsa Devereaux, Ace Wanzer Pilot-"

"And an accomplished Aerospace pilot to boot," interrupted Hein.

"-and an up and coming commodore in the European Union's Space Force called Kircheis Von Lohengramm (also a pilot). I'm detecting a pattern here, Hein."

"What? Oh, you think this is my fault? Gentlemen, right now ALL of the major skirmishes in Sol are being won by Wanzers and Carriers, not Marines and Dreadnoughts. Check the dossiers again – the ones that you skipped? You'll find nothing but pilots, pilots and more pilots. Meanwhile you Alliance jar heads keep trying to spread the myth that your cruisers' bellies are filled with supermen that can destroy a battleship by the power of their cold, hard stares."

He looked at Hackett and Anderson, who were both giving a cold hard stare. Hein wasn't fazed: he believed that they needed to hear this, even if they didn't like it.

"Yeah, see? Like that. In any case, those two are the best the Union has to offer, and the EU is not going to want one of their grunts as a Spectre anyways. Put them on the list."

Udina looked to Hackett for confirmation, who simply nodded. Of course, Udina wasn't quite done arguing

"What about Ashley Riot? He'd be a much better choice for a Spectre: he's has the skills of a biotic soldier AND and those of an agent!"

"He's a _Union_ agent." answered Anderson. You know how they are: He's more likely to go after Coalition targets with Council-backed impunity than Saren. No, Riot's out."

"Agreed," said Hackett.

Udina simply shrugged and "And now we come to the OCU," said Udina, somewhat content that this meeting would soon be coming to a close. "Kim Tae-Yeon and Edward Kelly?"

"I know these two," said Hackett. "Their units have been favourably evaluated for entry into the Alliance forces once the supra-nations start signing the second Ares Accord. They're in."

"Anderson? Hein? Any objections? No? Good!" Udina typed their names in and completed a list of eight candidates for Spectrehood. Udina would have preferred four, but...

"What about us?" asked Anderson. "Who is going to be our candidate?"

Udina began rubbing his eyes. "As much as I loathed her sense of humor, Anderson, I have to admit: Shepard was the best the Alliance has ever produced...and I'm not sure if she can be replaced."

"That's not quite the case," said Hackett. "Gentlemen, I've been in contact with the AIA. They've been developing this black op and wetworks asset for some time now, a spacer Adept with a Newton rating of sixteen hundred. A bit lower than Shepard's but still considerable. They've given me his dossier to submit to the Council." He mimicked Hein's earlier Augmented Reality disc throw, and the three other men accepted the file and displayed it on their Omni-Tools.

On each of their palms shone the image of Johan Liebert Ramsus.

Both Anderson and Udina shot up from their seats and shouted: "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?!"

Hackett was not moved by the sudden onslaught, and Hein was utterly confused.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" shouted Anderson. "Johan's a goddamned MONSTER! He was ready to send his men into a meat grinder on Torfan just to gain a little ground! If Shepard hadn't stopped him Torfan would have been a disaster! We do NOT want him for a Spectre!"

And Udina, of all people, had Anderson's back. "Agreed! One look at him and the Council will know what he is – A human Saren!"

Hein played the devil's advocate. "Well, on paper he sounds exactly like what you'd want in a Spectre. I mean, besides his considerable martial and biotics ratings he has scored extremely high on Charm courses. A diplomat and soldier both, you should be glad!"

"Do you see a psychological evaluation in there, Hein? No? Well that's because the AIA went through several psychoanalysts to try and figure him out, and once one of them was stopped babbling long enough, he told us this: Ramsus is a manipulative psychopath! That's where his charm comes from! He cares nothing for the lives of others, and he will carve a bloody swath throughout the galaxy trying to get to Saren! Forget political shitstorms, this would lead to an outright war with EVERYONE against EVERYONE ELSE!"

Hackett rose from his seat. It was time to make his case. "Saren's out there, with a fleet of synthetics who apparently believe he's their _messiah_ who built him a three kilometer long dreadnought for a flagship! He wants something, and whatever it is he's willing to kill thousands – no, millions! – of innocents to get it! He's a monster and we have to send an even bigger one after him! Ramsus IS that monster. He's cold, calculating, uncompromising, determined, incredibly powerful, and will not stop until Saren is dead. And as for Torfan, keep something in mind: those men were WILLING to walk into that crossfire. Ramsus' charisma is undeniable: if he can use it to marshal a force that can rival Saren's and aim it that cuttle boned _bastard, _then all the _better_."

"So that's your solution?" Anderson was outraged. "We swap one villain for another?!"

"He'll be _our_ villain. The AIA has upgraded his obedience conditioning. Now, unless either of you have a better candidate in mind to take on a rogue Spectre turned warlord, I think we've got our candidate. Udina?"

"...No, I have no one."

"Anderson?"

The captain said nothing.

"Hein put Grey forward already, so that's that. Now-"

Anderson interrupted. "Wait. We do have someone better. Stronger, faster, smarter, and most importantly of all, more _human._"

"Who?" asked Hackett.

"I think it's time we made up for Elysium. I think it's time we made up for destroying a man's life. I think it's time we made up to the true hero of Elysium."

"No!" exclaimed Udina. "Out of the question!"

Hein couldn't help but smile. "Well, don't keep me in such _suspense, _Captain. Who?"

"Gentlemen. I say we put Adam Jensen's name forward for Spectre status."

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: VEHICLES: MILITARY: EARTH: WANZER<p>

_The Wanzer (short for Wanderpanzer, or Walking Armor in human german) is a type of mechanized armoured fighting vehicle designed to imitate the humanoid form. Typically, a Wanzer is between four and six meters tall, with some heavier designs reaching as high as eight. It is composed of four modular parts: the chest, the left and right arms, and a pair of legs. All parts are constructed of a lightweight endo-structure covered by composite armor. Each component is plugged in the chest through a standardized plug system, allowing the machine to have its parts quickly and easily replaced. The salvaging of Wanzer parts on the battlefield is a common practice to relieve logistical strain._

_The concept for this AFV had been in development for quite some time, but no military had openly embraced it until the OCU deployed the first functional ones in 2076, during the Huffman conflict. This gave them an initial advantage in conquering UNAS-aligned cities on Huffman Island, allowing the OCU forces to redeploy their tank battalions in more crucial areas. The UNAS eventually deployed their own Wanzers, and the Huffman conflict ended in a stalemate in 2078._

_The debate of the pros versus the cons of Wanzers still continues after a century after the inception of the war machines. Proponents of Wanzer technology note their considerably higher mobility vis-a-vis tanks, their combat effectiveness in an urban environment and their ease of loadout modifications. Opponents to Wanzers note their relative lack of armour compared to tanks, their larger target profiles and their higher maintenance costs. The introduction of Mass Effect technology has allowed a Wanzer to be outfitted with thicker and heavier armor without its feet sinking into the ground, and has increased the performance and survivability of light and medium wanzers considerably._

_The Turian Hierarchy's military remains unconvinced of the strategic advantages of Wanzers despite their role in the First contact war. Mercenary Ace Wanzer pilot Jack Harper acquired a disproportionately high kill count using guerrilla tactics against Turian tank battalions before his Zenith medium Wanzer was taken down by light artillery fire. During the Alliance's joint counterattack with Earth's combined space forces, the OCU's Wanzer squadron known as the Carrion Crows, along with the UNAS' Black Hounds, delivered crippling strikes on the occupying turian ground forces and allowed the Alliance's marines to mop up the rest with ease. The Turian military maintains that, had Admiral Yan Lo not managed to deploy the Snowblind bombs, The Turian fleet could have easily and accurately bombarded the "over-designed wastes of money"._

_Rumors of the Turian Hierarchy funding research and development into Wanzer technology persist to this day._

CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: MARS: OPERATION ORCRIST

_Shortly after the events of the Blitz and three months before Akuze, the UNAS and the EU began a joint operation to destroy a large group of raiders known as the Tribe infesting the Cydonia region on Mars, a moderately resource-rich area developed by the Redwater Mining Corporation. The raiders were initially composed of one hundred and seventy-six war amputees Redwater had hired in order to cut costs on mining equipment in 2107. When the corporation mishandled its supplies of Neuropozyne, food, and the salary funds, the workers rioted and took over the mines and refineries across Cydonia. Still in need of food and medicine and having no faith in the Martian government (which had, up to that point, ignored their grievances with Redwater), the workers took to banditry to survive. This situation continued for decades until confirmed reports of the raiders jury-rigging their prostheses into full augmentations had reached earth, at which point the UNAS and the EU, two Earth nations with a stake in the area, felt intense political pressure to resolve the situation. A joint EU/UNAS task force was put together, spearheaded by the USMC's Elite Deep Eyes squad. _

_The two-month campaign, dubbed Operation Orcrist, effectively and completely removed the Tribal threat from the area with nearly no prisoners taken. The operation became the center of media attention, however, when it was discovered that the Raiders had created their own, small tribal society, with each raider having a wife and child. While it should be noted that many of these 'wives' were kidnapped, suffering from severe Stockholm's Syndrome and were part of a patriarchal survivalist culture built around grafting cybernetic parts made out of junk, Operation Orcrist had effectively gone from an extreme police action to an ethnic cleansing. Edward Grey, the commanding officer of the Deep Eyes, stopped the operation just short of eradicating the Tribe's 'civilian' population. He reasoned that with the adult men gone, the Raider's military strength was effectively neutralized. When the EU forces wanted to continue with the operation, they came at odds with the Deep Eyes, sparking a diplomatic incident. Sparing the remaining Tribal population, however, resulted in both the EU and the UNAS avoiding a major political scandal._

_Despite being spared, the remaining Tribals were put in an internment camp, their implants forcibly removed, They remain there to this day, unable to become productive members of society._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_

_**Alternate title: Wasn't the beginning of Heavy Rain totally fun? I certainly thought so! **_

_**You may notice quite a few references to other Square Enix works in this fic. Don't worry, I'm only developing the ones that will fit in a cyberpunk military sci-fi world. The rest are just nods, and I think I've gotten them out of my system.**_

_**Next chapter: less talk, moar investigations. After that, moar shooting.**_


	14. Chapter 12: Duty Calls

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 12: Duty Calls**_

* * *

><p><em>Early author's notes: Edgar Hein is voiced by James Woods. Jane Proudfoot is voiced by Peri Gilpin.<em>

_**~[h+]~**_

Adam sat down at his work desk, his meal almost fully digested. With nothing to do and the boredom setting in, he started feeling the need to do something with his hands. On the desk was Sasha, taken apart and in need of some maintenance. Adam oiled her and put her back together with care and dexterity that would have made Amnon proud.

"Wish I had brought you out yesterday." He said to the revolver. He had taken Sasha apart the day before yesterday, but then his mind (and hands) had wandered onto finishing the other project laying on his Omni-Bench: a replica of the Sarif Herakles Series VI prosthetic right arm. He had built it out of spare parts replicated with omni-gel in order to familiarize himself further with all the bits of his own arm for the sake of maintaining them better. It was functional save for all the extras Sarif's techs had crammed into Adam's Herakles' frame. Also, the outer shell was made out of plastic and ceramic rather than carbon: there were some things the Omni-Bench's mini-fabricator couldn't make. It was a quite a project, and that meant Amnon's custom built Schofield Wolf 645 revolver had been left on the work-desk disassembled when Adam went to sleep, and it stayed disassembled when Adam had gotten the emergency call the morning after, giving Adam with no time to put the gun back together.

But now, 'Sasha' (as Amnon had so affectionately called the gun) was whole again. Adam admired the piece: Its dense, reinforced titanium angular, beveled frame was painted a dark blue-gray, its gel grip painted black. The barrel was partially covered with a black carbon case that protected the sensitive parts of the Armour Piercing Quantum tunneler mod mounted at the bottom of the barrel, its teal light off. Adam had the gun made as a backup in case his main weapon got jammed by a tech attack or plain rotten luck. The AP mod was vulnerable to a Sabotage, but the revolver would remain functional even if it couldn't bypass a layer of armor, and there were always tungsten rounds.

Remembering Amnon's gift, Adam fitted the special tungsten core .357 rounds into 4 moon clips for ease of reload. The hand-loaded ammo were packed with Amnon's special formula: three times more potent than regular gunpowder, the charge gave the gun a kickback that would knock most people down flat after firing it. For Jensen, of course, it was hardly an issue. Jensen had thought about replicating Amnon's powder, but decided against experimenting with high explosives in his apartment.

Adam did a few spinning tricks with the gun, or at least just about every trick Amnon had taught him that could be done with one gun, minus those that required a belt holster. He had managed to kill at least ten minutes doing this before he heard the ring tone over the omni-directional speaker. His apartment's VI conjured up a hologram in front of Adam, detailing the caller's ID. It was Pallin.

"Accept call."

The VI beeped.

"Jensen here."

"Bored yet, Adam?"

"Out of my mind. What do you want?"

"Meet me at my office in the Embassies. And before you get smart with me, I've submitted a 76-B along with the suspension cancellation paperwork. You work for me directly."

The VI beeped again, and a holographic envelope appeared in front of Adam. He tapped it with his finger, and it was, indeed, the necessary paperwork giving Pallin authority to go over the heads of everyone in the chain of command between him and Jensen...and vice-versa.

"Huh. Can I ask why I'm getting such an invitation?"

"The Alliance Intel agent is here. I've tried to convince her to leave you out of the investigation, but your reputation seems to be working against you on that front.

"Not even when you gave her my files?"

"Not even then. She wants you, Jensen. Get over here, that's an _order_."

Adam sighed. No rest for the weary. "I'm on my way," he said, just before closing the connection. He loaded Sasha with a moonclip and set the gun on the worktable. He tiptoed around the mess in the apartment and made his way to the closet. He picked his 'autumn' outfit: black T-shirt, black jeans over brown leather boots, a white cardigan with a zipper and a stand up collar, and a long leather coat patterned with criss-crossing seams, which he only closed with a button strap over the breast, leaving the coat open at the bottom. He also put on a leather thigh holster – this time, he'd be bringing Sasha along. You never knew when you needed a hand-cannon.

_**~[h+]~**_

Udina pushed the Send button, uploading the list of candidates and their relevant dossiers directly to the Council through a secure channel. "And with that," he said smugly. "We'll have no more talk of making Adam Jensen a Spectre!"

Hein rolled his eyes. "Try and keep it in your pants, Udina." Some of us aren't exactly happy with Ramsus, either."

"Neither am I, but as Hackett just assured us, Johan is someone we can control. Jensen is not a team player, and let's not forget the Order Church's reaction. Or as you've pointed out, the _Templars'_."

While Hein had expressed the opinion that Jensen would have made an excellent Spectre, he also pointed out the inevitably militaristic reaction the Templars would have at the news. If an augment became sponsored by the Alliance to become a Spectre. They would invade Arcturus Station and destroy the Alliance's leadership, take it over, easily crush any resistance and repel any attempt to retake the station. Anderson scowled at this, not quite believing that the Templars could possibly a coup like this off, but Hackett's somber expression spoke volumes in favor of Hein. But of course, Hein wasn't finished:

"_You don't believe me? Fair enough, it does sound quite unbelievable, doesn't it? But I've got the numbers to back it up. Forget what you've read on the Codex: The Templars have THREE supercarrier groups. Three! And each of them composed of six heavy cruisers and twelve or so frigates and support ships. The De Sable class carriers that form the core of the groups can carry eighty fighters, forty bombers, and thirty dropships. Every cruiser and frigate carries a complement of drones. The Hand of Baphomet? It carries twice the fighter complement as the De Sables and has the firepower of a dreadnought to boot. They have over 10.000 infantry, the lightest of which put on _light power armor._ They have hundreds of experimental Wanzers, some of which that are over nine meters tall. Any personnel lost can be replaced by tapping into the millions of pious nuns and monks willing to die for her Holiness. Gentlemen, we're talking about some MAJOR force projection here, and it's at the fingertips of some very, very unhinged people who jerk themselves off at the idea of burning men like Jensen at the stake. No, I think we're better off leaving Jensen right where he is, where he is doing a lot of good. And besides, making Jensen a Spectre just heaps a galaxy's worth of responsibility on his shoulders. If you want to make up for ratting him out on Elysium, Anderson, you should just buy him a rendez-vous with the consort."_

"_How in the hell did you know about-"_

_Hein waved his hand dismissively. "A little bird told me. Now as for Johan, well, I know next to nothing about the guy, but I'll just say one thing: It doesn't matter how much control you think you have over your pet, Hackett. People have a way of going...off the rails, especially when you least expect it."_

And with that, Anderson was overruled, Hein's warning was ignored, and Ramsus made the list. As the progress bar on Udina's laptop made its way to a hundred percent, Anderson silently prayed that the Council would select the one of the other candidates.

"Gentlemen," said Udina. "I have to meet with the Council: I have no doubt they'll make their decision soon. Feel free to stay here a bit longer and make yourselves comfortable – my liquor cabinet is open."

Hein clapped his hands, almost ecstatic. "Oh good! I haven't had a decent drink since-"

"-Except you, Hein." Udina pointed at the door. "Get the hell out of my office."

The DARPA chief put on the saddest, most dishonest pout he could manage. "D'aw, Udina. And here I thought we were friends." Before Hein could make more light of Udina, his Omni-tool bleeped: he had just received a message. He read it all in one second. "But before I go...Anderson? I've had the wetware removed from Shepard's body. You can go and claim the body for a burial at sea. Or space. Whatever."

A flash of anger came over Anderson's face, at which Hein backed away a bit with his hands raised defensively. "Now, now! I was doing you a favor- I hear the AIA and Alliance R&D were very curious as to why Shepard could output more newtons than than an Asari Adept, and now that I've 'spoiled the goods', they won't spend months prodding her corpse with electrodes in an attempt to figure out why."

Anderson's anger gave way to confusion as Hein put a hand on Anderson's shoulder. "You're welcome. Go and put her to rest." And with that, Hein left Udina's office. Udina followed him out the exit, no doubt to make sure he wouldn't come back and raid his liquor cabinet.

"Thousands of people died on Eden Prime," said Hackett as he poured himself a glass of whiskey. "And our world just fucking watches. Then Hein lets it slip that there's an opening for a human Spectre and then all of a sudden Earth scrambles for it. Hmph! Care for a drink?"

"Sure," answered Anderson, nodding. Hackett poured another drink and handed it to his old friend.

"So, what do you think about Hein?"

"First impression? He's an asshole."

Hackett laughed. "Ha! Yeah, that word pretty much sums up half of his character. The other word is _crazy_. Just be glad he's not off his meds. All things considered, though, he's not doing too bad for someone suffering from Beacon Contact Syndrome."

Anderson had heard the story about some hotheaded UNAS military pencil pusher barging in on an experiment involving the Prothean beacon on Mars and getting his brain fried (some people say it _exploded_). Was that Hein? Anderson didn't bother asking: He was more concerned about the Alliance's Spectre candidate.

"Ramsus, Hackett? Of all the fine men and women in the Alliance Navy you pick _Ramsus?_ Why?"

Hackett downed his drink in one gulp and set down the glass on Udina's desk. "Because he's what we need: A killer, not a hero. Heroes feel the need to save everyone they can, carry all their burdens even if that's the last thing they need. They get sidetracked. They lose sight of the big picture. Johan won't."

"And what happens if Ramsus goes on a rampage with a Council-approved license to kill?"

"...If we can't control him, then we'll kill him. It's as simple as that."

Anderson set his full glass on the table, next to the empty one. Between Shepard's death, Adam Jensen's situation and Hackett sponsoring a psychopath, he wasn't all that thirsty. "I should go. I have to make arrangements for Shepard's body."

"...Good, good. But while you're at it take the next few days to prep the Normandy to catch a rogue Spectre deep in unfriendly territory. Whoever the Council picks, he or she will need the speed and the stealth only the Normandy can provide."

"Understood, sir." Anderson saluted, leaving Hackett alone with his thoughts.

And his guilt.

"God forgive me," he said out loud to no one.

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen arrived at the embassies. The receptionist told Adam that Pallin was waiting for him and that he was to be directed to the Executor's office immediately. Once there he rang the office's door's bell, and was let in almost immediately.

Pallin was at his desk, naturally, and sitting cross-legged on a white plastic seat across from him was a blonde human woman clad in a form fitting silver catsuit with black thigh-high leather boots and long black silk raglan sleeves connected to the neck by a black lace high-neck collar. The sleeves were a bit loose, and each of them divided into two puffs of cloth by a white ribbon, reminding Jensen of Virago sleeves (and consequently, of the dozens of fashion magazines Megan had left laying around that he had read a century and a half ago).

"Sign here, and here," said Pallin as he handed several datapads to the AIA agent. She would need to fill out a lot of paperwork before having the right to take over a C-Sec investigation (treaty be damned), and then there were the licenses she would need to arm herself legally. To the woman's credit, she filled out the forms with haste and without complaint. Once done, she turned towards Jensen and rose from her chair. Adam had to admit, he was a bit awe struck.

She was undeniably fair, with piercing clear blue eyes the color of the sky. Her voluptuous hourglass figure was balanced out by her considerable height (one meter and eighty three centimeters, by Jensen's estimation), which was propped up by legs half as long as her entire height – an ideal proportion. She smiled at him as she approached with heart-shaped lips on a heart shaped face with her jawline set off by her black lace cravat. Her hair was tied up in a braided coil on the back of her head, with her long bangs side-swept over her right eye.

Adam would have called her European (maybe french) on account of the hair and pale skin, but her face's smooth features and slightly exotic eyes betrayed an Asian ancestry – Korean, perhaps. When she spoke, Adam could easily detect a slight Australian accent, and he decided she must have been born and raised in the OCU.

"You must be the famous Adam Jensen." she said as she held out her hand. "Sarah Walker, Alliance Intelligence."

Adam took a step back and merely nodded.

"...Have I said something wrong?"

Adam fixed her with a cold stare from behind his shades. "...Your perfume stinks."

Her 'perfume' actually did smell very nice, but it was also laced with some kind of artificial pheromone designed to make human men slightly sweaty and/or compliant. Most people couldn't detect it, but after being swayed and then taken by surprise by Zhao Yun Ru, Jensen had Sarif's techs upgrade the CASIE to detect abnormal levels of pheromones in the air. Agent Walker's proximity set off alarms on Adam's HUD.

Agent Walker smile died and she was, for a moment, not quite sure how to react. It was the first time someone complained about her fine perfume, of all things.

"And here I thought all humans liked the smell of crushed flowers," said Pallin. He sniffled, not looking up from his laptop. "Her scent has been giving me a headache ever since she came in. And in answer to your question, Agent Walker: _Yes_, that is indeed Adam Jensen." he turned his gaze on Jensen. "Jensen, under the Article 3 subsection 1 of the Treaty of Aken you are hereby assigned to Alliance Intelligence agent Sarah Walker as her C-Sec liaison until the resolution or closure of the Shepard case. The both of you will answer to me directly. Before you resume the investigation the two of you will report to the requisitions office at the C-Sec academy. Any questions?"

"Could I partner up with Garrus? I'd rather have him watch my back."

"Garrus is, at the moment, paying the full price for that corpse business and Dr Michel's clinic."

_**~[h+]~**_

Garrus hated Asari children. At fifteen years of age, they didn't quite have enough element zero in their bodies to lift a grown Turian, but an entire class of them coordinating their efforts could easily pull it off. In fact, Garrus was bearing witness to fact at this very moment. Pallin had sent Garrus to an asari school for a presentation on safety (don't talk to strangers, look both ways before crossing the street and all that crap). Halfway through the presentation that milquetoast of a school teacher lost control of her class when the students got into their tiny heads that now was the time to play 'toss the Turian'. Floating in mid-air, Garrus had come to a personal revelation.

He would kill Pallin. He would get through this, and he would kill Pallin.

"Let's toss him through the window!" one of the children cheerfully shouted.

Oh yes, there would be a reckoning for this.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Still," continued Pallin, "he's technically back on active duty. I'll let you know when you can call on him. Is there anything else?"

"Just one thing?" asked Walker. "How much equipment will C-Sec provide me with?"

"An Omni-Tool optimized for detective work, a gun, and a shield. Anything more will have to come out of your own pocket."

"...Understood."

"Good. You're both dismissed."

_**~[h+]~**_

Samesh Bhatia rubbed his hands worriedly. Had he made a mistake enlisting the aid of that marine? By some miraculous coincidence, he had caught sight of Gunnery Chief Williams – a good friend of his late wife – a few minutes ago at the embassy's entrance. She had listened to his plight, and her superior officer had been gracious in giving her free reign to deal with Samesh's situation. But when she had confided in him that she might have to get a little rough with the diplomat that stonewalled him, the blood fled from his face a little. If she started an incident, he would never be able to put his wife to rest...

Samesh caught sight of a man in a brown leather coat speaking tersely to a woman – a very beautiful blonde woman – and he recognized the man instantly: It was detective Adam Jensen. What luck! Perhaps he could prevent a disaster! Samesh called out to him.

"Mist- I mean, Detective Jensen! A moment of your time?"

Jensen approached Samesh. "Is there something I can help you with, mister...?"

Goodness, the man was tall. Jensen's companion approached as well, coming in close enough for Samesh to catch the sweet scent of her perfume. For a brief moment Samesh had forgotten that he was in mourning, and his shame brought him back down to earth.

"...Bhatia. Samesh Bhatia. I need your help in a delicate situation."

"I'm listening."

"My wife, Nirali, was one of the soldiers that fell in the defense of Eden Prime. I made a request to the Alliance military that my wife's body be returned to me for cremation. It seemed my request was granted as her body was delivered here on the Citadel, but then I received an email saying that my wife's body would be handed over to some organization called Darpa for study. Handed over! like some piece of- of cargo! And with no justification whatsoever!"

"...I'm just a cop, Mister Bhatia. I don't have any pull with the Alliance."

"I know that! I wasn't finished! I was being stonewalled for days by some man named Bosker, and just as I was about ready to give up a marine, one of my wife's fellows on Eden Prime, listened to my story and decided to do something about it. Something violent, I suspect: she was far more outraged at the treatment of my wife's body than I. Please, I just need you to make sure she doesn't do anything rash. If she does Bosker will likely have me arrested and...All hope of putting my wife's soul to rest will be gone. Please..."

"_Jensen._" The woman seemed annoyed by Samesh's plea. "As...sad as this is, we have work to do. If there's any violence the guards will handle it."

"I'll go and make sure nothing happens, Mister Bhatia."

The woman was indignant. "Jensen!"

"While I'm at it, I'll see about getting you some answers. I can't promise that I'll be able to have your wife's body returned, but..."

Samesh was nonetheless grateful. "Answers, at this point, are more than I could ever hope for. Thank you, mister Jensen. Miss Williams and Mister Bosker are at that expensive bar in the embassy, on the left of the receptionist and up the stairs."

Jensen nodded at Bhatia, then addressed the woman "This won't take long, I'll meet you at C-Sec Academy's armory." And without even waiting for her reply, he made his way to the bar.

"It better not, Jensen!" She threw a slightly dirty look at Samesh before leaving the embassy, and the widower gulped a little. What had he gotten in the way of?

_**~[h+]~**_

The door hissed open and Jensen entered the embassy lounge. Like every other part of the embassy, it was almost entirely made of plastic. The walls were plastic, the chairs and tables were plastic, the bar was plastic and some of the people were plastic (figuratively speaking, of course). It was one of the reasons Jensen hated coming to the Presidium.

And speaking of plastic people, Clerk Bosker noticed Adam just as he entered, and put his phone back into his pocket. Adam didn't like Bosker: every word the man said, no matter of apologetic or empathetic, felt disingenuous. Also, his purple suit made him look stupid.

"Mister Jensen! Thank goodness you're here! Chief Williams just... accosted me a moment ago, she was very angry."

"Yeah, apparently the Alliance has a thing for dead bodies."

"...Ah, I see you've spoken to Bhatia about this, it's a sad-"

"Save it. Where's the marine?"

Bosker's eyes widened a bit, he wasn't used to being interrupted. "I..." he rubbed the back of his head. "I was afraid for my well being so I directed her towards the Chief of DARPA. He's right over there, along with his bodyguard."

Bosker pointed at two women who were staring each other down. One of them was clad in Phoenix armour with an arsenal strapped to her back. The other was wearing USMC fatigues - a blue t-shirt and pants with black combat boots and she had a knife (decorated with a green jewel hanging from the pommel, strangely enough) strapped to her left bicep and a heavy pistol on her belt. They were arguing with words right now, but they were really itching to do it with their fists. Or their weapons.

"And you wound up making a bad situation worse. _Great._ Stay here, I'll handle this."

_**~[h+]~**_

Corporal Jane "Spirit" Proudfoot didn't like Alliance Marines. For one thing they kept themselves in shape thanks to their gene therapy. Sure, they went through Basic (any decent military put their recruits through it) but once the muscles and endurance set in, they stayed in as long as the injections kept coming. Keeping in shape the hard way was a mark of pride in the United States Marine Corps, and Jane was proud to carry on the tradition.

The second thing she didn't like about Alliance soldiers? The confidence. They acted tough, they talked to Jane as if they were veterans. Fuckers didn't know war as Jane knew it. She had fought off Red Tribesmen intent on making her their war bride. She had survived the Thresher Maws of Akuze. She had survived the Venezuela Uprising. Scaring off pirates and fighting robots didn't impress her, and they had failed miserably at Eden Prime. Way she heard it, it was Shepard that stopped the city of Constant from becoming a smoking crater while what was left of the planetary defense force ran for the hills.

Third, their women looked like porn stars. Ditto for their men. This Williams was a fine example of this: big glossy lips and double D's packed under a 'breastplate', part of a white and pink armor that hugged her body as if it was painted on her.

"Let me talk to him. Right. Now."

Jane crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes."Yeah, I'm just going to let walk up to my boss while you're packing an arsenal. Back. Off. He's not in the mood for a chat, Allie."

"My name is Ashley," the alliance marine growled.

"Don't give two shits what your name is, Allie. _Go away._"

"Do you know what he did? He took a soldier's body away from a grieving husband! I know for a fact that the USMC treat their honored dead better than that! And you're going to let him get away with it?"

"Our honored dead are just that, _honored_. They were real soldiers, not a bunch of a swimsuit models who were fooled into thinking they were cut out for war through VR sims and gene mods! You, Bhatia and the rest of you gun toting wannabes haven't been through even a tenth of what I've been through. I lost comrades to _monsters_! Your dead were done in by a bunch of _robots_. They aren't even _close_ to being honored! "

Williams drew back her fist and hurled it towards Jane's face. Before it could land, a cold black hand, hard as steel, seized Williams' fist and stopped it halfway to its intended destination.

"Play. Nice." commanded the tall man in the brown leather coat.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Let me go, right now you cog piece of- ah!" Jensen squeezed her hand harder before Ashley could finish.

"You really didn't want to finish that sentence. And you," Adam turned to the bodyguard, who had a hand on her knife, ready to be drawn. "Hands off the knife."

"Says who?" challenged the US marine.

Adam parted his coat with his free hand, revealing the badge on his belt. "Says the police." The woman complied, and Jensen let go of Williams' fist.

"Detective Adam Jensen. I have a few questions for your boss.

"He's right this way," answered the bodyguard. She motioned to man behind her, sitting on a plastic couch with a datapad on one hand and a glass of whiskey on the other.

Williams was indignant. "You stonewall me but you let _him_ through?!"

The bodyguard shrugged. "You don't have a badge, Allie."

Jensen approached the man in the long black leather coat and cleared his throat, getting his attention. The man was looking intently at the scan of a human's brain. Adam cleared his throat again.

"I heard you the first time," responded the DARPA chief. He turned off the datapad and put in in his coat's inner pocket and took another sip of his drink. "You know, you really shouldn't have interfered."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"That argument was shaping up to turn into some fine girl-on-girl action!" he smiled. "I have to _pay _for a show like that anywhere else!"

"This isn't the red light district."

"I know, and yet...everyone around us were just staring at the whole thing, secretly hoping things would turn violent. I don't blame them: The Presidium has got to be the most boring place in the galaxy, _ever!_"

"We had a riot in Upper Zakera a while back, maybe that's more your speed?"

Hein looked up, as if considering the idea. "Hm, I think I'll pass. Although..." the man put his drink on his chair's armrest and he rose from his seat, standing tall in front of the C-Sec officer. "I heard _you_ had a little something to do with that bit of excitement, Mister Jensen..." He held out his hand. "Colonel Edgar Hein, United States Marine Corps and head of the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency."

Adam shook Hein's hand. "I'm here for Samesh. Is there a reason why you're withholding his wife's body?"

"Ah, that. Did Bosker explain anything to you?"

"No, I was sidetracked by the girl-on-girl."

Hein smirked at that. "Well, Nirali Bhatia's body is one of the few mostly intact subjects Alliance R&D has managed to find. The rest of the dead on Eden Prime were either burned to a crisp or turned into cyborg zombies. Alliance R&D has its hands full trying to figure out the zombie part. The burned to a crisp part is pretty obvious: flamethrowers. But Bhatia?...Bhatia was shot to death with a Geth Pulse weapon, and we haven't been able to figure out how those work or exactly what they shoot. Bullets? Plasma? Particles? Bhatia's body may provide the answer and in the answer lies a defense. And it's my job to figure those out."

"Couldn't you have explained that to Bhatia? I'm sure he would have understood if it was for the greater good."

Hein laughed. "It wasn't _my_ job to explain, it was Bosker's! But that boy just couldn't resist being all..." he waved his fingers."...seeeeeecretiive, ooooOOOooooh... Then again, I doubt any grieving husband wants to hear that his wife's dead body is going to be used for experiments, though. Not sure I get it, either. The brain's gone completely cold, and the person that she was..." for a brief instant Adam thought he could pick up a hint of...sorrow? In the man's voice? But it was gone so fast it might as well have not been there. "...is gone. All that's left is a mass of tissue."

"Wouldn't a Geth weapon be a more appropriate for research? Shoot a pig with one, and Nirali Bhatia's body becomes redundant."

"Who do you think you're talking to, here? We tried that: those guns we recovered don't work. Can't figure out why, and believe me, we tried to make them work. Bhatia's body is the only viable sample we've got. I'm sorry but there's simply no compromise to be had here. Mister Bhatia wants his wife back? Too bad. The lives of thousands of Williams' fellow marine depends on DARPA keeping that body."

Williams, who had overheard him was furious. "You soulless, unfeeling asshole!"

"I prefer to think of myself as more of a jerk."

"I am NOT leaving without Bhatia's body!"

"...Riiight, because I have it right here in my left pocket. You're going to be here a while."

Adam took control of the situation. "Both of you, quiet!" He considered his options, but it looked like the only way he could prevent even more violence is to arrest her, but Adam really, really didn't want to deal with the Alliance right now. And then there was Samesh... There had to be a way for everyone to come out on top.

"Williams. How is Zorah doing?"

"Now is not the time for-"

"Just answer the question."

"...She's fine. Last I checked she was conscious." She left out the part where the quarian girl had been asking about the 'man in blue'.

Hein raised an eyebrow. "You're going somewhere with this, aren't you?"

"Tali'Zorah was the one that extracted the evidence against Saren from a Geth data core," answered Adam.

"Ah...the quarian pilgrim. Definitely a cut above her species: Geth data cores wipe themselves once the body has been compromised. But I was under the impression she had moved on with her pilgrimage?"

"She's recovering on the Normandy. If anyone has a shot at making those Geth weapons work, it's her. If she gives you a working Geth weapon, you can let Bhatia come home."

Hein scratched his chin. "...And I could definitely use some of that famed Quarian wizardry on the Durendal. Mister Jensen, I think you've got yourself a deal." He held out his hand.

"Hold on, I don't speak for Zorah. You'll have to cut a deal with her personally."

"Oh. Shouldn't be too hard," he leaned in close, conspiring. "Those Quarians would work for a bag of peanuts!"

Adam said nothing and simply frowned at him. Hein backpedaled and put his hands up defensively. "Kidding! I'll have a fair contract written up for her, and that's a promise. Do I look like some Coalition Commie to you? I'm a UNAS capitalist, Jensen! I'm _all about_ fair wage labour! Miss Williams, take me to the Normandy! Mister Jensen has..."

As the Colonel made his way out of the embassy lounge with his bodyguard and Williams in tow, Adam sighed with relief. He may not be quite done dealing with the Alliance, but he hoped that was the last time he'd have to deal with Edgar Hein.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Well, it's about _time,_" Walker said to Jensen as he approached. She had been waiting next to the door leading to C-Sec Academy's Requisitions Office. She apparently wasn't allowed in there without the supervision of a C-Sec officer, and when she had tried to get several random officers to help her out, they had all replied they had business to attend to and could not afford to be sidetracked. If only _all_ C-Sec officers were like that...

"It's twenty minutes on foot from here to the embassies." answered Adam as he put his badge on the door's scanner. "I was five minutes behind you. You couldn't wait five minutes?"

"I took a cab to get here," she countered, annoyed.

"Again, twenty lousy minutes on foot."

"...Let's just get my gear."

The C-Sec requisitions office at first looked like a small empty room, with only a brown turian with white markings at his desk inside of it. Behind the turian, however, was a wall of reinforced glass, and beyond it was a large warehouse filled with lockers and shelves full of mostly civilian-grade weapons and miscellaneous equipment. The turian looked up from his laptop and greeted Adam immediately.

"Jensen! Huh. I hardly ever see you down here."

"It's not like I wasn't expected."

"Right you are, Pallin did say you were coming." He nodded at Walker. "And this must be the Alliance Intel agent.

"Sarah Walker. A pleasure. I believe you have something for me?"

"I have something for you both as a matter of fact, but first, hold on a moment."

The clerk pushed a few buttons on his laptop and began a background check. He was done in less than a minute.

"Alright, the both of you check out. Sorry about that, Adam, procedures have to be followed." He withdrew a small strongbox from beneath his desk and opened it. Inside of it was a black shoulder holster, a long handgun, a spare ammo block, a box of 10mm concussion rounds, and a shield emitter meant to be mounted on the belt. "The Murphy Arms Cerebus mark IV medium pistol. Better punch than your old Mk.23. Has single and three-shot burst firing modes and comes with an under-slung low-power coilgun for specialized ammo pre-installed."

Adam whistled. "How many Requisition Points is that gonna cost me?"

"Not a damned thing. Pallin wanted you to have extra firepower. He seemed to think you'll be needing it."

Adam took the contents of the box. While he was busy putting on the shoulder holster and shield, the clerk withdrew another box. Inside it was a Logic Arrest mk III Omni Tool, a shield, and a Elanus Risk Control Series 500 light pistol. "And this is for you, Agent Walker. Standard gear for a C-Sec detective. Omni-Tool comes with a Venator '86 software suite."

Walker took everything except the Omni-Tool. "No need for the Logic Arrest. I've got a Nexus mark VI."

The turian shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you need anything extra or better, let me know. We've got quite a bit of surplus for sale. Speaking of which, Jensen? You've built up quite a score of points over the years. Five thousand RPs, enough to outfit a Special Response squad. Sure you don't want to spend some?"

"Did any human hardsuits come in?" asked Adam.

The clerk shook his head. "No, sorry. We're actually all kinda strapped for hardsuits. All I could give Garrus was an Agent mk I with a kinetic buffer mod in exchange for that stripped down Phantom...Damned budget cuts."

After putting on his gear, Adam spent points on a new stunner and some medi-gel. Walker traded in the light pistol for a Kessler VI, a telescopic baton, and a brown synthetic leather leg bag, as her outfit didn't have a whole lot of storage room. Thus outfitted, the pair left the requisitions office, ready to start the investigation. They were at a transit terminal, and Jensen summoned an X3m cab.

"So," asked Adam. "Where to?"

"From what I've read from your files, you've got three leads, and the best of them is tracking down that Alliance surplus gear the killer had been using."

"I'll set the destination for Decanus Ordo's store. Apparently he's the only one on the Citadel with a license to sell Alliance gear. Speaking of gear, you're certain you don't want to purchase a hardsuit? I'm sure requisitions has got an Asari suit that'll..." he looked at Sarah, from head to toe. "...fit?"

"I think I'll save my money, thanks. Besides, what are the odds of us getting caught up in a firefight?"

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Three hours later...**_

The Blue Suns rifleman squad had Adam and Sarah pinned down with controlled bursts from their Avenger assault rifles. Adam spotted a trio of shotgun wielding mercs trying to flank them. Jensen pulled out Sasha, took aim, and shot one of them in the groin. He went down screaming. The assault squad took cover, and the riflemen went full auto. It wouldn't be long before that crate of dirt Adam and Sarah were using as cover couldn't soak in the bullets anymore.

Jensen threw a dirty look at Walker. "Remember what you said at the academy?" he shouted over the noise of gunfire. "I'd say that answers your question!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's notes: 'Sasha' apparently means "defender" and "helper of humanity". There's also a sword in the Final Fantasy series called Defender, so that's a nice little unintentional and stealthy shout-out. <em>  
><strong>

_**Sorry if that hasn't quite fulfilled the quota of investigation and shooting I promised. I'll remedy that in the next chapter.**_

**_Adam's outfit in this chapter is pretty much Aidan Pierce's from Watch_Dogs. I am SO looking forward to that game._ **


	15. Chapter 13: Too close to the sun

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 13: Too close to the sun  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

"What's taking so long?!" shouted Fade over a loudspeaker, his frustrated voice echoing throughout the warehouse "It's just Jensen and some bimbo! You have them outnumbered and outgunned! Fucking kill them already!"

Adam recognized the voice instantly. It was Harkin's! Apparently, the bastard had not left the Citadel and had reinvented himself quite successfully as a racketeer. Now, Adam was doubly motivated to get through this shootout and bring 'Fade' in for questioning. All he had to do was neutralize the six remaining Blue Suns mercs shooting at him and Walker.

Well, five, now that Walker killed one of the riflemen with a quick Overload/headshot combo, or the one-two punch (as Garrus liked to call it). She pulled it off very well, but Jensen didn't have time to be impressed. He had a score to settle with Harkin. With five mercs remaining, he had no time to waste.

He activated his Cloak.

_**~[h+]~**_

From where Harkin was standing, things didn't look good. He couldn't see the firefight from the manager's office, despite said office overlooking the entire warehouse's interior. The many, many crates of goods both legal and not so legal formed a maze of walls that blocked the main entrance from Harkin's view. The audio coming through Alpha Squad's channel painted a good enough picture for the racketeer.

Shit was hitting the fan hard.

_"Where did he go, **where did he go?!"**_

_"Relax, I packed an EMP grenade just in- urrkh!"_

_"Thelon? THELON!"_

_"He's down!"_

_"He's got Thelon's shotgun he's got a shotg-_

Harkin heard a shotgun blast over the Blue Suns comm channel.

"-ARRRRRGH MY KNEE! MY GODDAMNED KNEE!"

"My assault team is down! Harkin! Send out Alpha Squad! send out the mechs! SEND OUT EVERYTHI-"

This time there was a loud bang, a sound Harkin easily recognized as a 10mm concussion round's blast. Potent stuff, and that meant Beta squad was down for the count. Besides Harkin stood the leader of Alpha Squad, some turian whose name Harkin didn't care to remember.

"Send out the mechs." he ordered.

"I did it already!" answered Harkin. "I figured Beta would hold on long enough for the LOKIs to shamble their way to them!"

"Hahne-Kedar LOKIs?! I told you to buy mechs from Kerberos!"

"Right, because I'm made out of solid money! Kerberos ain't cheap! Look, the LOKIs have a excellent sensor packages and I got a Quarian wiz to rework their combat subroutines so that they can use assault rifles! They'll spot him and shoot him dead! Watch and see!" Harkin turned his laptop on and brought up the status windows for sixteen mechs, complete with a live video feed of their head mounted cams. They had switched their vision to catch the electromagnetic spectrum, a security feature Hahne-Kedar added to the LOKI line of security mechs in order to sniff out cloakers. The mechs spread out over the warehouse floor, seeking out any intruders. One of them encountered glowing, semi transparent figure and woman shaped shadow, and then its live feed went dark after a combination of an Overload attack and a shotgun blast took it down. The other LOKIs reported to the fallen mech's last known location, and the first six to get there fed nothing but static to the laptop's holoscreen.

"Thelon's EMP grenade," said the squad leader. "Alpha Squad! We're going in! We got two hostiles approaching fast! You!" He pointed at Harkin. "Just in case, wipe the hard drives, leave nothing that could lead back to Santiago! As far as C-Sec is concerned, we're just a bunch of guns _you_ hired."

"You _were_ a bunch of guns I hired," Harkin said bitterly," until Santiago decided he wanted a cut out of _my_ operation, here!" The squad leader, however, wasn't interested in his complaining, and ordered one of his junior mercs, a young human, to stay behind and keep an eye on him. Just as the rest of Alpha Squad moved out, two other mechs went down. Harkin quickly got to work, pulling hard drives out of his PC and a small EMP generator cobbled together from spare parts out of a footlocker. He switched it on, and hovered it above the drives.

"Wouldn't it be simpler to set them on fire?" asked the Blue Suns rookie. "I got Incinerate on my Omni-Tool..."

"You' got a spare helmet? I don't want to breathe in toxic fumes!"

Just then, the turian squad leader shouted over the comms. "THE MECHS ARE SHOOTING AT US! HARKIN, YOU TREACHEROUS SHIT!"

Harkin's eyes widened in shock and he turned his gaze on the laptop: there was nothing but error messages on the holo-screen. _There's no way Adam could crack the encryption on the command and control, _thought Harkin._ not that quickly, not while he's being shot at! The man still had problem figuring out his Omni-Tool when I last saw him!_

Adam peeked out of his cover, and to his surprise, the LOKI mechs started shooting at the Blue Suns Squad that had just come out and took cover near the metal stairwell that led to the manager's office. He turned to Sarah, who had her Omni-Tool on, her eyes darting across several walls of encrypted text.

"Are you doing this?" he asked her.

"Well yes," she answered, slightly annoyed. "_Obviously. _Now, I'll just set the Loki's to aim for their heads and..."

"No."

"...What?"

"Harkin's a dirty little coward. These mercs are his security blanket. If they're gone, he'll run. Keep them suppressed."

"I'm sure you can chase him down if he runs!"

"Not if he's got a getaway vehicle ready! Every second counts in a chase!"

"Well, they're blocking the only way into the office. Unless you can jump three stories high, we're going to have to take care of them!"

Jensen looked up at the office. He couldn't quite jump that high, unfortunately. He turned on his smart vision: Harkin was in there, holding a device over a stack of data drives. He only had one Blue Suns guarding him.

"Theoretically," said Sarah. "How high could you throw a seventy-kilo person if you put your whole body into it?"

"Theoretically...Three stories high. Are you suggesting...?"

"I am SO going to regret this, but..." she sighed. "Give me a boost."

_**~[h+]~**_

The window cracked and fractured under a burst of three shots, and it exploded under the strain of an omni-shield held by a flying six foot tall blonde woman. She rolled and landed gracefully, and Harkin just stared at her in shock. His guard, new but nevertheless trained to think fast, seized Harkin's EMP Generator and threw it at the woman. The Omni-Shield's glow flickered and died under an onslaught of arcs and sparks, and the hardened gel held together by the Omni-Tool's Mass Effect field fell to the ground. The guard followed up with a burst from his Avenger, but he only had time to fire off three shots into her shields before she ran up to him and kicked the gun out of his grip. He activated the Omni-Blade on his left arm, she answered by withdrawing her telescopic baton, and the two were caught in a melee: She was far too quick to be gutted by the Omni-Blade, and he was well too armored to be knocked out by her baton strikes.

At least, not immediately.

"Oof! Harkin!" shouted the merc. "Get out of here, I'll hold her off!"

And Harkin bolted for the backdoor.

_**~[h+]~**_

Sarah hadn't expected the EMP generator. Thankfully it only shorted out her Omni-Tool, but it also disabled her Kessler pistol, which didn't leave her with a lot of options for dealing with a fully armored merc besides wailing on his flexible neck seal with her baton whilst evading his Omni-blade strikes. Unfortunately, it took half a minute before she had an opportunity to take the merc down, and Harkin had already escaped. She had failed to capture him.

Sarah didn't like to fail.

The merc stabbed at her, and she swept his blade away with a baton strike, along with his arm, opening up his guard and exposing his chest. She kicked him hard in the groin, and as he doubled over in pain she followed it up by slamming both her fist in the back of his head, which met the ground very, very quickly. Even with his helmet on, the trauma to his head was too much, and he lost consciousness.

Before she could savor her victory, Jensen burst through the door. He had apparently already taken care of the remaining Blue Suns downstairs in the time it took her to defeat her opponent. She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that.

"Where's Harkin?!" he demanded. Sarah merely motioned to the open back door that led to a fire escape outside, and Jensen became a blur.

_**~[h+]~**_

Harkin smiled as his aircar finally started up. He would get away, and there was nothing Jensen could do to stop it. He was home free. But just as the car took off the glass on the driver's door exploded and a black hand seized Harkin and pulled him out of the car. He soon found himself face to face with Jensen, his old partner, who was fixing him with a cold, metallic stare.

"Adam! Long time no s-" Harkin couldn't finish his sentence as Jensen slammed him against the car. He lifted Harkin by the collar, bringing him face to face again.

"There is a two bit pimp out there..." said Jensen, his voice cold. "...who is sunbathing on the beaches of Illium, sipping some fruity drink, smug in the knowledge that no one can put him behind bars."

Jensen slammed Harkin's head against the car door.

"There were twelve dead bodies in that protein vat. TWELVE. Twelve girls with holes in their bodies because Big Tim didn't want them to talk."

Harkin's face met one of the rear door's window, breaking it into pieces. Amazingly, he didn't lose consciousness.

"Twelve girls that will NEVER come home because some dirty cop decided that the ONE thing that could have put Big Tim away for good before he could touch them would be better off in his own pocket!"

And then Harkin was thrown away like a rag doll, and his whole body landed on the asphalt. He tried to crawl away, but it was so hard to stay conscious...

"P-Please...please don't kill me!" he begged, weakly.

Adam approached, menacingly. "A thousand platinum on the black market. Was it worth it, Harkin?"

"I can... I can give you Santiago! Head of the Blue Suns, whole gang of scumbags! You'll be a hero!"

Adam's blades sprang from his arms. "I don't care about Santiago. Was it worth it, Harkin?"

"I can give you Big Tim! He couldn't stay out of the business! Couldn't help himself! He's running drugs all the way from Omega! Just, just let me go!"

Adam rose his right arm, ready to strike Harkin and end his miserable life. "Was it worth it, Harkin?!"

"No! Please! PLEASE!"

"JENSEN!" Sarah shouted, and Adam felt of cold metal of the Kessler's barrel on the back of his head. "Don't."

Jensen said nothing.

"He can't point us to Shepard's killer if he's dead."

Jensen said nothing. In the distance, the sound of C-Sec's sirens could be heard. The cavalry had finally arrived, if a little too late.

"And you're going to have a hard time explaining lethal force on a man who's obviously not a threat." reasoned Sarah. "Let it go."

Jensen closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and retracted his blades. "Wilbur Harkin, you're under arrest for fleeing C-Sec custody, possession of controlled substances, attempting to kill a C-Sec officer, and conspiracy to murder Junko Zayne Shepard."

Harkin's relief gave way to disbelief as he heard that last one. "What?! I didn't kill nobody!"

"Maybe not," said Sarah as she discarded her useless Kessler, "but you did provide the murder weapon to the person who did. One of your duct rats bought the very knife that ended Shepard's life from Ordo's store. When we interrogated the boy, he said he gave you the blade."

"You're lucky you look nothing like the killer." said Jensen as he flash cuffed Harkin. "Otherwise you would be our prime suspect."

_**~[h+]~**_

In one of C-Sec Academy's interrogation rooms, Harkin was sitting opposite the blonde woman that had smashed her way into his office. He honestly hadn't expected her to survive going hand to hand with a Blue Suns merc with a stick and a fancy catsuit for protection, but there she was. She had politely introduced herself as Agent Sarah Walker, and when she said she was with Alliance Intelligence, Harkin knew he was royally fucked.

"Do you know why you're here, mister Harkin?" asked Walker.

Harkin didn't even feel the need to be a smart ass and said nothing.

"Besides smuggling weapons, illegal substances, you had a part..." She typed something on her Omni-Tool (a second hand Logic Arrest I) and it conjured a holograph of a dead, raven haired amazon of a woman with a knife in her chest. Walker had the image hover a few inches from his face, for emphasis. "...in this."

"I told you, I had nothing to do with that."

"The murder weapon-"

"-I sold a lot of weapons to a lot of people, dammit! I didn't conspire with anyone to off anybody! If that's all you got..."

Walker typed into her Omni-Tool again, and an audio clip played.

_"...Fade here. What do you want, Fist?"_

_"I got a contact with a big grocery list of stuff he needs. He pays only in Platinum and he wants no paper trail and no questions asked. Interested?"_

_"Platinum, huh? How much coin are we talking about, here?"_

_"He paid me 2000 for some info. Didn't even try to haggle me down."._

_"Really? If the coin's so good how come you're not taking up the job?"_

_"I'm...kind of busy with other stuff and I got Chellick on my ass. Figured you could use the coin."_

_"Send me the list...huh. Authentic C-Sec uniform, iron-rich Omni-Gel, gun oil, Omni-Bench, black Gucci suit, red silk tie... Pricey, but not exactly illegal shit there, Fist."_

_"Keep reading."_

_"...whoa, that's a lot of toxins. What does he need that shit for?"_

_"I honestly didn't ask. If you're smart you won't ask him either...Man gives me the creeps."_

_"Alright, alright. I'll take the job."_

Walker shut off her Omni-Tool and smiled. "I'm afraid Fist wasn't quite so thorough in erasing his drives as you were, Mister Harkin."

Harkin muttered to himself. "Goddamned obsessive compulsive zyme snorting prick!"

"That audio file was timestamped 23/10/2179. Shortly after that message was recorded, C-Sec Chief Constable Laelius was found dead in his office, having been injected with a lethal cocktail of toxins you provided. Other deaths followed, with the seven C-Sec Detectives working on the Clemens Case dead, and Fist had gathered detailed intel on each and every one of them. I've got quite a few more conversations between you and Fist concerning your mutual 'client'. You two were providing logistical support for an _assassin.._"

Walker waited for Harkin to say something, but he was silent. Sarah continued: "Assassins tend to dislike loose ends, Mister Harkin. I'm almost certain news of your arrest will reach him very soon, if he doesn't know already. We're willing to provide you with protection, but-"

And then Harkin started laughing and laughing, almost maniacally. His laughter subsided after a while, and he spoke: "There's no protecting me."

"If we apprehend him before he strikes, then you won't have worry about him."

Harkin just laughed some more. "You don't know what he's capable of. But most importantly of all, you don't know who his masters are. I do. I got curious, see? Started wondering where all that shiny platinum came from, because man!...he had the stuff in spades. I started asking questions, and they came looking for me."

"Who?"

"...Men. No...Ghosts. Ghosts in black suits. Ghosts that knew everything about me, knew every crime I committed and every thought I ever had...And they showed me things..." he began to sob. "Horrible things. Things that they did to others, and they promised that they would do worse, so much worse to me if I ever betrayed them. I've given their agent a good enough reason to just kill me. I won't give him a reason to bring me back _alive._"

And then, Harkin said absolutely nothing. Walker had tried to get him to open up for ten whole minutes, but it was no use. He was simply too afraid to talk.

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen and Pallin walked out of their side of the interrogation room and in the hallway, having watched Agent Walker interview Harkin from behind the one way mirror.

"Well," said Pallin. "That was slightly ominous. What do you think, Jensen? Is he bluffing?"

"No. He's definitely scared, I can tell."

Pallin groaned inwardly. "It looks as though there's more to this case than meets the eye. I really shouldn't have been all that surprised considering Shepard's importance. Can you think of any organization that would want Shepard dead?"

"Off the top of my head? None. I'd need to have a better look at Shepard's past before I could even make a guess."

"I can help with that," said Walker as she closed the door to the interrogation room behind her. "Her personal effects are still on the Normandy. I can have them brought here, if you like."

"Make it so," answered Pallin. "Also, I'll have Garrus join you on your investigation. If our killer is the one behind the deaths centered around the Clemens case, then I want your partner watching you back."

Adam nodded. "I remember Laelius. First time I heard about this Clemens case, though."

"Lemuel Clemens was suspected to be behind a series of murders. Sadly, he is also the son of a Terran element zero tycoon. His army of lawyers kept him out of jail for months. Laelius led a task force to find solid evidence to bring him to justice, but..." Pallin shook his head and sighed. "I lost a lot of good men, and Clemens is still at large."

"They must have found something, like Harkin did."

"Hm...well, speaking of Harkin - I'm disappointed in you, Agent Walker. The AIA is renowned to have interrogation techniques that rival the STG. Harkin clams up in fear and you give up?"

"Oh I'm not done." she crossed her arms. "I've yet to use my feminine wiles on him."

Jensen rose an eyebrow. "What's stopping you? Perfume wore out?"

"No, I just find that the promise of physical comfort works best after a few days of isolation, sleep deprivation, malnutrition and despair." She said this so casually it actually made Jensen's skin crawl a little. "Make sure you put him in solitary confinement, tell his guard to keep him awake, and give him quarter rations, won't you?"

"No," Pallin answered tersely. "C-Sec does not condone torture that kind of torture"

"Well then I apologize, but my hands are tied. What do you think, Jensen? Maybe another _concussion_ will get him to open up?"

"Maybe it will." Adam turned to Pallin. "Want me to have a chat with him?"

"Later, maybe, when he's not staring off into the void. In the meantime I want you and Walker to go and pick up Shepard's effects, see if there's anything linking her and those...'spirit' men Harkin spoke of."

"I'm...not exactly welcome on Alliance turf, Pallin."

"I can do it by myself, Executor." Sarah offered quickly. Pallin quirked his eyebrow at this, but didn't press the matter.

"Alright then. Jensen, go and fetch Garrus from Hypatia Primary School in the meantime. He's not answering his phone, but his hardsuit's still transmitting his lifesigns there. Deal with whatever it is that's holding him up, won't you?"

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed."

_**~[h+]~**_

The last bell had rung half and hour ago, and hundreds of asari children were playing in the courtyard, waiting for their parents to come and pick them up. Adam found Garrus by the main entrance sitting on a bench, speaking to a very, very apologetic teacher. A very attractive apologetic teacher. He smirked inwardly as he approached, and he noticed Garrus was nursing his right arm. He turned on his Smart-Vision, and saw that it was dislocated. Before he greeted his partner, Jensen sneaked up behind him, grabbed his arm, and 'gently' snapped it back into place.

"HAAAAAAAllloo Jensen! It's..." Garrus clenched his teeth. "Good to see you. Ow."

"Good to see you too, Vakarian. What happened to your arm?"

"He..." said the teacher. "He fell on it when my students threw him out of a window. I'm so sorry!"

Adam smiled. "And you didn't bother getting some medical aid?"

"I insisted on it! But he said his suit's medical suit would kick in any minute!"

"...Medical suite on an Agent mk 1, eh?" Adam said aloud, and Garrus simply winked. "I think I got it from here, miss."

The asari teacher excused herself, apologized for her students' behaviour (again) and went back into the school. Garrus sighed as he watched her disappear into the building. Jensen sat down next to him. "So. Throwing a big sulk? Pallin's been trying to contact you."

"Well, here I was stewing with my own hate and plotting to murder Pallin when that teacher came along and started picking glass out of my quills. She's got very, very soft hands and..."

"...And she doesn't know what touching a Turian's quills means, does she?"

"Nope!" Garrus laughed a little sheepishly. "I was just about to tell her the story about how i got that scar on the back of my head. You know the ladies love that one..."

"I know the one, but let me stop you right there. Duty calls, Vakarian. It's serious: we think the killer is behind the deaths of Laelius and his task force and Pallin wants us together on this case."

Garrus' face hardened. "We're going after a cop killer."

"Yeah."

"Alright, let's-"

Before either of them could make their way back to the X3M cab, and asari and a human woman approached them hurriedly. They looked scared. "Excuse me!" called out the Asari to Garrus. "Officer! We need your help!"

Garrus rose from his bench, ignoring the pain from his arm. "What's the matter?"

"Our daughter's wandered off!" cried the human. "We were talking to her teacher and...and she was there one minute a-and then she wasn't oh god oh god where is she-"

Adam attempted to calm her down. "Miss, calm down and start again from the beginning, please..."

_**~[h+]~**_

Not even 5 minutes later, Jensen found little Charon "I've found her," he said into his Omni-Tool. "Call off the alert."

_"Will do."_ Garrus answered back. _"Where is she?"_

"Construction yard on fifth and Circe Street. She's safe."

_"Not even a hundred meters away...Well, there's our good deed for the day. Make sure she stays there, I'm bringing the parents over."_

"Got it. Charon Hennessy!" Jensen called out the little asari. "Stay right where you are!"

To her credit, she didn't try to run as Jensen approached her. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." At this, Jensen pulled out his badge and showed it to her.

"I'm with the police, dear."

"...Am I in trouble?"

He knelt down in front of her. "You are a bit. Your parents are worried sick about you."

"Oh."

"I'm just going to stay here with you and make sure you don't get in any more trouble while your parents get here and take you home, Okay?"

"Okay."

"Now Charon, what possessed you to wander off like that?"

"...I was curious."

"About what?"

"A pretty lady told me to give a note to a sad man."

"I thought you weren't supposed to talk to strangers, Charon."

"I didn't talk to her! I just...nodded and did as she said."

Adam chuckled a bit. Ah, kids. "So you gave a note to the sad man, and then..."

"And then he followed the pretty lady in there." She pointed at the entrance of an abandoned tunnel complex. Various signs in various languages warned people away. The place was apparently not stable. "I was curious about them, I wanted to know what they were up to...But that place is dark and scary and I didn't want to follow them any more."

"Smart girl."

"Why would a man and a lady go in there?"

Adam rolled his eyes behind his shades. Some couple having a tryst, most likely. He'd probably have to go in there and get them out.

"Well, sometimes adults want their privacy...and they look for it in adventurous places."

Charon furrowed her brow. "Why?"

"You'll...understand when you're older, sweetie."

"My moms say that all the time! I'm smart enough to understand now!"

"Of course you are, but-"

"...aaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH !" the horrible scream echoed out from the dark entrance, and Charon whimpered and wrapped her arms around Jensen's neck.

"What in the hells was that?!" exclaimed Garrus from behind them. The parents rushed to Jensen, and he passed Charon to their waiting arms.

"Get out of here, right now!" Adam commanded. "Vakarian, I think we've got a Black Widow on our hands. Call for backup: we're going in."

"Roger that." Vakarian pulled out his Mongoose and activated his Omni-Tool. "This is Detective Vakarian to dispatch we might have a 187 at Fifth and Circe, repeat, we may have a 187..."

Adam pulled out Sasha, and Garrus followed him into the darkness...

_**~[h+]~**_

"Man, it's dark in here." said Vakarian as he activated his Omni-Tool's lantern, ruining Jensen's night vision. Adam switched his eyes to normal mode and activated his own lantern, and immediately regretted it: It somehow made everything that much more creepy as the lanterns didn't illuminate things past 5 meters in front of them, and as Adam and Garrus walked further and further into the underground's tunnels the cement rubble seemed to appear spontaneously in front of them. Old animal instincts kicked in, and both Adam and Garrus were wary for any predator that lurked in the dark.

"What was that?!" murmured Garrus.

"What?"

"I thought I saw something move!"

"I got no movement on my Radar. Keep it together, Vakarian! If there's anything out there I'll know, alright?"

"Yeah..." Garrus took a deep breath. "Okay...I see something!"

"Vakarian..."

"No, no it's an Omni-Tool.

Some ten meters away down one of the tunnels, the orange light of an Omni-Tool gauntlet interface flickered on the ground. Jensen could hear static from its speaker. The two cops approached it carefully, and eventually their lanterns shed light on the body of a man, slumped against a wall splattered with blood. In its left palm was a ring of silver. Between his legs was his head, having been twisted off by a great force. It stared out accusingly at Jensen, it's expression forever frozen in a mixture of terror and sorrow. Jensen got closer still, and made out the face of Kaidan Alenko.

"Oh no. Oh god no..."

_**~[h+]~**_


	16. Chapter 14: Revelations

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 14: Revelations**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

_"Alenko here. Do you need me for something, captain?"_

_"No, I'm just checking up on you. You holding together, son?"_

_"...I'm hanging in there."_

_"Is that...I'm hearing children playing in the background?"_

_"Yeah, I'm at some primary school for Asari kids. Shepard and I saw this place once when we were exploring the Citadel a few years back. It got us thinking..."_

_"About starting a family?"_

_"Yeah," _Alenko sighed._ "What about you sir? You ever think about starting a family?"_

_"I did, once. Me and Sanders had been together for a while but.." _

_"What happened?_

_"She started burying herself in her work."_

_"..."_

_"Alenko?"_

_"...Me and Shepard, we stood here, imagining that we were picking up our child from school and listening to what he had learned that day on the way home. *Laugh* We argued about whether we'd have a boy or a girl first. But...now..."_

_"...Alenko, don't do this to yourself."_

_" *sob* S-She's really gone, isn't she? I kept thinking that this was some kind of horrible nightmare that I would wake up from...but this is real, isn't it?"_

_"I'm sorry, son. But yes. It's all too real."_

_"Are you okay, Mister?" _It was the voice of Charon Hennessy, distant and laced with static.

_"H-hold up, sir." _Kaidan sniffled. _"Oh, I'm alright, dear. Just...I just lost a friend."_

_"Did your friend go away?"_

_"...Yes, very far away, where I can't follow."_

_"Oh."_

_"Now, you know you shouldn't be talking to strangers, sweetie. Run along and go back to your parents, they must be worried."_

_"Someone told me to give you this."_

_"What is it?"_

_"It's a note. I think it's a note. It's wrapped around something..."_

There was the sound of crumpling paper. _"Wh...who gave this to you?"_

_"A pretty lady did."_

_"What was her name?"_

_"I don't know."_

_"What did she look like?"_

_"She was pale with black hair. She was really tall, taller than my mommies!...That's her, over there."_

_"...Oh my god."_

_"Mister? Mister..." _Charon's voice became more distant.

_"Sir, were you listening?"_

_"You could have put me on hold you know, but yes, I heard. What is going on?"_

_"I can't believe it, I can't be..."_

_"Alenko?"_

_"I...I have to make sure. I'll call you back."_

_"Alenko? Kaidan! Don't-"_

Anderson typed on his Omni-Tool, "I tried contacting him again, and he finally answered a few minutes later.

_"Alenko? Alenko!"_

_"...I'm here."_

_"Where are you? What's going on?"_

_"It's her...She's come back to m-" and then Alenko's voice morphed into static._

"There's nothing but static after this," said Anderson as he deactivated his Omni-Tool. Sitting across from him at the conference table was Agent Sarah Walker. Leaning against the wall behind her was Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian.

"Kaidan Alenko left his Omni-Tool's microphone on after you lost contact," stated Walker. "But as he got deeper into the abandoned underground complex interference from Snowblind particles jammed his transmissions. We've extracted a recording from his Omni-Tool's audio-buffers. We need you to listen to it amd confirm something for us."

"Keep in mind," warned Jensen. "You may find this disturbing."

"I'm no stranger to death, detective." Anderson motioned to Walker to play the audio clip. It began with distorted static, then:

_"-That's...not possible. It's not possible - I saw the body!"_

_"Shhh...come closer my love..."_

_"You're not her!"_ A warbling noise, the sound of a Biotic Warp attack being unleashed, came out of Sarah's Omni-Tool. "_GET AWAY FROM ME!" _Another distortion: the impact of the bolt landing on its mark. The dull thud of a body falling on the cement floor was heard then, followed by the hard breathing of Alenko and the beeping from his Omni-Tool as he no doubt tried to call for backup.

_"What the hell are you?...tch! Goddamned interference..." _

A turbine revved up, it's noise flanging and echoing within the tunnel, and then there was a hiss, like jet of steam. Whatever it was, it hit Kaidan, and he screamed in agony.

_"hehehaHHAHAHAhha...d-**did** you think-_thiiiiink_? think that would d-d-do it, lover boy?! That was nothing! Nothi~ng!"_

_"Please, no..."_

_"Oh, my hea~art's about to burst w-w-with JOY. Come closer, **lover! I WANT TO MAKE YOU FEEL WHAT I FEEL.**""_

_"Nooooo-!"_

What followed next was a disturbing cacophony of maniacal cackling, mingled with the gurgles of a man being strangled followed by a slow, wet, ripping and cracking noise. That wasn't the worst part. The worst part was the panting that followed. It was almost...sexual, and it went on for minutes, occasionally interrupted by a...sucking noise.

_"...see s...thing!" _It was Garrus, barely coming in range of the Omni-Tool's microphone. At this, the killer snarled eagerly, almost gleeful at the prospect of another kill.

_"Vak...ian..." _said the recorded voice of Jensen. At this, the killer gasped.

_"No, no, it's an Omni-Tool!"_

_"...Oh no. Oh god no..."_

Walker stopped the audio file. "Captain Anderson...can you identify the other voice in the recording?"

"...It's Shepard's." He answered. "It was definitely Shepard's...What in the hell is going on here?!"

"I hate to admit it," answered Jensen. "But we're just as confused as you are. We checked our morgue: Shepard's body is still down there."

"As for what we know for sure..." added Vakarian as he read a datapad. "Kaidan's shoulder was pierced by a five millimeter wide particle stream - the 'turbine' noise we heard was the particle gun charging up. We're still waiting for the lab results on some samples we collected on the scene."

Something clicked inside Anderson's head. "Hein."

Vakarian was confused. "I'm sorry?"

Anderson rose from his chair and hissed Hein's name under his breath. He strode towards the exit.

Jensen stopped him. "Anderson! We're not finished here!"

"I know who did this!" Anderson snarled. "It was Hein!"

"Hein? As in Edgar Hein, the DARPA chief?"

"Yes! Him! Hein's been trying to sell the Alliance on his wasteful man-portable energy weapons for years! You heard the noise: the killer had one!"

"There's merchants aplenty on the Citadel," Adam countered. "Any one of them could have sold the killer a weapon."

"Not quite," corrected Walker as she walked up next to Adam. "Jensen, non-projectile weapons may have been more common in your time, but the discovery of mass effect technology has made kinetic weapons far more energy efficient, not to mention cheaper on a logistical level. Consequently, no organization in the galaxy is interested in wasting money on fielding energy-based small arms...though that doesn't seem to discourage Hein in the least."

"So," Anderson added, "there isn't a single merchant in the whole Citadel that carries them, except Hein! That smug bastard is involved in all this! He also had access to Shepard's body: I can't think of a better way to create a disguise than scanning a body and taking DNA samples! Can you?"

"That's...actually fairly plausible. But there's still the matter of motive: why would Hein help assassinate an Alliance Marine?"

"Perhaps the same reason as Harkin? Money?" Walker suggested.

"There's another angle," said Anderson. "Competition for Spectrehood. Hein had a candidate ready for the job within a day of Shepard's death!"

"What does that have to do with Alenko?" asked Adam, a bit skeptical.

"I don't know!...Maybe, maybe Alenko decided to launch his own investigation. Maybe he found something that connected Hein to Shepard's death."

"That's a lot of maybes," sighed Vakarian. Walker, on the other hand, was seriously considering Anderson's claims.

"Perhaps, " she said finally, "but the Spectre candidacy angle is something we can't ignore. We should bring him in for...a few questions."

Anderson smiled a bit "Just say the word, and I'll have my marines seize his ship and everything on it!"

Adam palmed his face: Anderson was running a little too hot, here. "Ander-"

_"Mister Anderson..." _AgentWalker interrupted with her voice smooth as silk as she put her hand on Anderson's shoulder. "I understand that your are angry and eager for retribution, but I think a more...subtle approach is required here. Whether or not Hein is involved in this case, a squad of marines barging into his vessel might cause a political incident and would get you no closer to finding Alenko's killer."

"If he's involved, your marines will spook him and make him run for Omega," added Garrus.

"And if he's innocent you'd have violated his rights for nothing," stated Adam. "I think it would be best if I just met with him and asked him a few questions. Who knows? He might even help with the investigation."

"And what if he flees at the sight of you cops anyway?" countered Anderson.

"I'm afraid he has a point, there," Walker tapped her chin. "Before we can...interview him, We'd have to put some distance between him, the Durendal, and the Deep Eyes."

"Do you have a plan that will do all that?" asked Jensen.

Walker smiled. "As a matter of fact, I do. But first, we're going to have a chat with Pallin."

_**~[h+]~**_

Dr. Aki Ross tapped the new member of the Durendal's crew on the shoulder, getting the young Quarian's girl attention away from the ship's drive core.

"Oh! Hello, doctor." Tali'Zorah pulled herself away from the control console and greeted the young raven-haired woman.

Ross gave her a good-natured smile. "Penny for your thoughts."

Tali'Zorah tilted her head and gave Aki a confused look. "...I don't know what that means."

"Oh! Sorry, it's a Terran English expression. I meant to ask you what's on your mind: You seemed quite focused on the ship's drive core."

"Well, it's quite impressive...although the fractured core is going to be a problem, but the six stabilizer prongs should allow us to maintain a stable FTL field. What's _really_ been bothering me are these glass cylinders..." Tali pointed at the six glowing green cylinders mounted around the Element Zero Core, like spokes on a wheel. "...I think those are supposed to be capacitors, but they look more like fuel tanks..."

"They're a little bit of both: those are the energy plants."

"But the ship already has plenty of power provided by the two fusion drives..."

"No, I mean, those are actual plants in there: plants, as in flora, floating in a nutrient gel. As you've said they function as capacitors, storing energy from the fusion drives for later use."

"Ah," said Tali, snapping her fingers. "I've read an article about these. Something about bio-engineered plants producing cells with mutated mites...no, i mean, mighty- no that's not right either..."

"Mitochondria."

"Yes! That's it! It's fascinating that Terran ships have integrated biological parts...But I'm not sure how much use to you I would be in fixing these, Biotech isn't really my area of expertise."

"Don't worry too much about it: maintaining the Durendal's biological parts -crew included- will be mostly my job. Still, if you'd like I can send you the files on the energy plants."

"I'd appreciate it." Tali activated her Omni-tool, a hand-me-down Bluewire Engineer Adams had given her. At the sight of it, Aki remembered that she had come to the engine room for a reason.

"Oh! That reminds me: Hein wanted you to have this." She produced an electronic bracelet from her pocket. "Everyone on the Durendal gets one: it's a Seiko Wrist Halo Omni-Tool."

Tali took the Omni Tool and she examined it. It was made of a fairly light silvery metal, and analog buttons had been cut into it, do doubt for some troubleshooting should the haptic interface glitch out. She put it on her left wrist, started it up and ran a few diagnostics: it reported a performance level comparable to a Nexus VIII. Impressive, for an Omni-Tool this compact.

"Oh my...And you're just giving this to me? Not even chief engineers on the Flotilla get something that good!" Well, they did, but they had to mod the hell out of them first.

"One of the perks of working for Hein." Aki answered with a smile. "Oh, and before i forget..." she pressed a button on Tali's new Wrist Halo, and a port opened up. Aki then produced a cartridge from her pocket and inserted it into the port.

"Omni-Gel cartridges. Less of a hassle to than refilling a Gel tank: just take it out and put a fresh one in."

"Hm...clips are a bit wasteful in the long run, but-"

Aki's own Wrist Halo beeped. She eyed the holographic call window. "It's Grey."

Tali's eyes beamed with hope. "Do you think he's found my people in Upper Zakera?"

"Let's find out. Fingers crossed?" She pressed the call button. "Aki here."

_"Grey here. What's going on with Hein? I called him earlier to report on the mission but he just said 'Not now, good things happening!' and hung up."_

"Hein got a call from C-Sec: apparently the Executor is interested in purchasing some of the Serpent assault carbines, along with a few other toys that might be useful to a law enforcement agency. His eyes lit up and he couldn't get the cargo out of the bay fast enough."

_"Looks like his perseverance paid off...although I do find C-Sec's sudden interest in the Serpent a little suspicious...is Jane with him?" _

"Of course. Someone had to push the cargo trolley."

Tali cleared her throat.

"Oh, Ms. Zorah is with me. Got an update for her?

_"Am I on speaker?"_

"You are."

_"Ms. Zorah..."_

Tali held her breath. Between being rescued, getting some free medical care and finally a job aboard an advanced (if quirky) Terran light cruiser, she suspected her good fortune had finally dried up. She fully expected Captain Grey to tell her Fyodor and Veetor were dead, their bodies trampled and mangled.

_"Mission Successful. Veetor and Fyodor are safe and sound, and we found two other quarians tagging along with them."_

Tali breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh Keelah. Thank you so much! I-I hope your men didn't get hurt!"

_"We're fine. Your friends were put under siege in one of the sewers' water pump rooms by a bunch of gangbangers. They were no match for us. Your friends needed some convincing, though: our gear spooked them a little. We're headed back: ETA thirty minutes."_

"Roger that, we'll leave a light on for you."

_"Thanks. Grey out."_

Aki closed the connection, but instead of dismissing her Halo's haptic interface she began to surf the extra-net for restaurants on the Citadel that deliver. "Are you hungry?" she asked Tali as she typed up an order. "I've got the most _maddening_ craving for sushi."

Tali politely refused. "I probably couldn't ingest that anyways. I'll be fine: Doctor Chakwas gave me some turian rations...which reminds me: do you have a clean room and an irradiator?"

"We've got both in the sickbay. Would you like me to show you how they work?"

"Of course!"

"Right this way then. Is it okay if we drop by hydroponics afterwards? I've got this side project on dextro..."

As the doctor's voice faded away and was cut off by the closing of the heavy doors that led into the main corridor, Jensen decloaked in the middle of the engine room. Satisfied that Zorah was being taken care of, he pulled a cable out of his Omni-Tool and plugged it into one of the four data ports in the back of his neck, connecting the wrist mounted computer to his Neural Hub and allowing Jensen to communicate with Walker and Vakarian sub-vocally.

_"This is Jensen. Walker? Vakarian? Can you hear me?"_

_"Loud and Clear," _answered Vakarian.

_"Five by five," _responded Walker. _"What's the situation?"_

_"I'm inside the drive core."_

_"You waited until you were right in the center of the ship before reporting in?"_ asked Sarah, almost accusingly.

_"Just checking on something. Any ideas as to where I should go next? This ship...this ship's pretty big."_

_"I take it you've been through the cargo bay already?"_

_"Yeah, the bay doors were wide open."_

_"See anything out of the ordinary? Or illegal, for that matter?"_

_"Nothing but cargo pods, gun lockers, a dozen dormant security mechs and a Copperhead gunship that's seen better days. Is Hein some kind of gun runner?"_

_"Well, with DARPA's resources tied up with the Zeus project, I wouldn't put it past Hein to try and earn a little extra income to fund some of his other projects."_

Jensen didn't bother asking what the Zeus project was. Probably some kind of death star. He noticed a map near the doors, no doubt to help orient the ship's new recruits. It only showed the cargo bay and engine room, but thankfully it was digital and interactive, and Jensen took still shots of each level and saved them on his Neural Hub.

_"Garrus here. Pallin's greeting Hein right now. I'll be communicating via text from now on, but I'll be listening in."_

_"Jensen,"_ continued Walker. _"My first stop would be Hein's personal quarters."_

_"Which would be where, exactly?"_

_"Well, if I were to have my own personal light cruiser I would definitely claim the captain's cabin. And if the US Space Navy's design philosophies applies to the Durendal, that should be on the top floor."_

Jensen doubled checked the map and confirmed Walker's guess. "Well, I don't have a better spot to go to. Might as well start from the top."

Getting to the top deck was, surprisingly, not that difficult. The ship, besides the occasional security bot and VI-controlled cameras, had little in the way of security, Or crew, for that matter. If he hadn't seen Tali'Zorah and Doctor Ross, Jensen would have sworn this was a ghost ship.

It was kind of creepy.

The Captain's Cabin was, unsurprisingly, quite secure, and Jensen was just about to begin hacking its keypad when some kind of scanner mounted on top of the door shone a faint beam of light all across his body.

_"Aw, shit."_

_"What?"_

_"I think I just got scanned."_

"...You. Idiot. _Well, so much for this little operation of ours. Get out of there."_

_"Wait, there's no alarm."_

_"It's a silent one, no doubt The security bots are probably converging on your location right now! Get out of there!"_

To Jensen's surprise, the Cabin's door simply opened, and Jensen still didn't detect anything remotely hostile converging on him on his radar.

"W-Welcome back." said a woman's computerized voice. Jensen couldn't believe his luck.

_"Huh."_

_"What is it?"_

_"The VI glitched and mistook me for Hein."_

_"...That's not...well, considering how unreliable older VIs can be, that's not impossible, but..."_

_"Yeah, I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth." _

Jensen entered the cabin, and whistled. It wasn't so much a cabin, not really: Hein had apparently taken over the entire observation deck and turned it into his own little penthouse suite, with glass partitions and an OLED floor and ceiling. Instead of decorating it with lavish furniture, however, Hein set up his quarters like a private museum. Various pieces of tech from different periods in earth's history sat encased in glass pedestals, and each pedestal was spread evenly throughout the room. Inside several vitrines were a multitude of tools, artifacts that came from as far back as the Renaissance. Jensen ignored all the museum pieces, and instead strode for the antique desk, no doubt Hein's workspace.

The desk was at the center of a maelstrom of debris. By the looks of things, Hein (or perhaps someone else with access to his office) had gone completely berserk at this very spot. Nearby pedestals had been toppled and had shattered on the floor. Papers - diagrams and blueprints, reports and letters- were spread out all around, having been torn from their binders. An antique leather office chair had been tossed through a glass partition nearby. A laptop had been crushed to pieces by the heel of a boot.

_"Well, I don't think I'll getting anything out of his computer."_

_"Why?"_ asked Walker.

_"It's broken into pieces."_

_"...Interesting. Do you think he was trying to hide something?"_

_"...I don't think so. It looks like he got into a fit of rage and took it out on everything within reach."_

_"Probably his Contact Syndrome acting up. Is there anything else of interest?"_

Adam examined the desk._ "I see a book titled 'Project Paragon', a postcard, a keycard and a note." Adam took the note and read it subvocally. "Tali, there's something I'd like you to work on in Special Projects. This card will give you access to it. The door code is 1540."_

_"Well, I think you've got your next objective, Jensen."_

_"Hold on, Hein went nuts over everything except this book and postcard. I think it might be relevant."_

_"Fine, have a look, but do hurry up. Garrus, is Hein done with his sales pitch?"_

_A moment later, a text message appeared on Jensen's HUD: _

_**G: He just demonstrated the Serpent**_

_**G: very cool gun**_

_**G: showed off the overload mode**_

_**G: It's got that turbine noise, but there's no hiss.**_

_**G: He's got some other stuff here, though, lots of it**_

_**G: You've got at least another hour before we even start haggling**_

_**G: So keep looking**_

_"Ask him if he's got anything small and concealable." _suggested Jensen._ "Remember, Alenko got taken by surprise and he didn't shout at the killer to put down her weapon, so that particle beam she used to wound him must have been pretty small."_

_**G: Will do**_

_"Jensen, link your eyes to your Omni-Tool's comm package," _commanded Walker._ "I might see something you miss."_

Jensen groaned inwardly, but complied, and he started examining the postcard. It was a photo of a young girl and a woman sitting on a beach, hugging and smiling at the camera. Jensen concluded it was a mother and her daughter, judging by their resemblance to each other. They both had milky pale skin and raven hair, the mother was in her mid to late thirties, the girl couldn't have been much older than fourteen. Written on the picture was "Lost without you'.

_"Did Hein have a family?"_ asked Jensen.

_"He...has no record of one. A mistress maybe?"_

Jensen flipped the postcard. "_No return address, just a Post box code addressed to a...Joshua Carpenter?"_

_"Odd. Did Hein steal this?"_

Jensen put the postcard down and examined the book. It was large and bound in leather, and the title had been written with a black marker. He opened it, and realized that it was a scrapbook. The first page had the picture of a woman in a hospital bed, happily cradling a baby in her arms. It was the same woman in the postcard, but younger. On the page next to that picture was the copy of a birth certificate for one Junko Zayne Shepard, Father: unknown, Mother: Hannah Shepard.

_"Walker, I think Anderson needs to see this. Is he with you?"_

_"We were going over Shepard's belongings together, actually. I'm putting up a holo of this now."_

Jensen continued to flip through the pages, and as he did he bore witness to the first fifteen years of Junko's life. There were yearbook photos, school test scores, and bits of digital paper streaming news text. She was a brilliant young girl, earning 1st place in every contest and event she got involved in, from Spelling Bee to Mathlete competitions. There were pictures immortalizing everything from birthdays to friendships.

Anderson's voice came over the comms. _"Hein... you goddamned __**stalker.**__"_

_"You think he had Alenko murdered out of jealousy?" _asked Walker.

Adam, however, wasn't completely convinced that was the case._ "Hold on, there's more," _he said as he continued flipping the pages. A piece of digital newspaper was stuck in the middle of the scrapbook: it detailed the horrible slaver attack on Mindoir - Shepard's home. One of the many pictures in the paper's digital slideshow was a picture of a young Shepard in complete and utter shock and despair, with a young Alliance soldier putting a blanket over her shoulders.

_"That's me,"_ said Anderson sadly. _"I found her in her mother's greenhouse. She had killed three pirates by herself with just a knife and her biotics...She was rocking back and forth, muttering 'Make them pay', over and over again...like a prayer. She kept saying that even as the photographer took that picture."_

_"What happened to her mother?"_

_"...Dead. Some batarian cultists offered up as a sacrifice along with another ninety-nine colonists...the_ bastards _made a run for it as soon as our dropships got into atmo."_

Jensen turned the page.

_"That's me and Shepard at her graduation from Grissom High. She joined up with the Alliance military soon after, and planned to go to OCS as soon as her Biotic implantation and training was done. Speaking of which, that's her in that other pic, holding up the V sign?"_

_"I see it. Got lots of bandages on her." Jensen turned the page._

_"Pre-Implantation Biotic evaluation scores." _said Walker_. "...above average numbers, very impressive for a biotic without an amp."_

_"Whoever wrote 'Not good enough' in red marker found her lacking, though." _said Jensen. The pages that followed the evaluation scores were blueprints for the L3 implants, with alterations done to them in pencil, as well as a paper on Red Sand and its Biotic enhancing properties and several articles on...Thessian cuisine?

_"Was Shepard a Red Sand user?"_

_"No!"_ snapped Anderson. _"Absolutely not!"_

_"...You know,"_ said Walker calmly, "s_tudying the effects of Red Sand and eezo-rich Asari food could have led to breakthroughs in enhancing biotic potential in humans, and then you have these modified L3 implants... It seems like Shepard was the only one to benefit, however."_

Jensen turned the page. Post implantation scores, these ones impressed Walker immensely - something about them being on par with an Asari matriarch.

Jensen turned the page again. There was nothing except the words WHERE DID YOU GO written across two pages in black marker.

_"Looks like Shepard vanished for a bit," _commented Jensen.

_"That's because she went to Installation 511." _said Anderson_._

_"To clarify,"_ continued Walker, "_Installation 511 is where all Alliance biotic soldiers go for psycho-conditioning to enhance their biotic control. While 511's existence is an open secret, the location is an extremely well guarded one - only Alliance officers with Black-level clearance know exactly where it is located."_

"_That's where Shepard and Alenko met."_ added Anderson.

_"...Interesting. Hein doesn't have Black clearance with the Alliance?"_ asked Jensen.

_"Of course not,"_ answered Walker. _"DARPA isn't technically part of the Alliance, it just supplies UNAS technological development resources to the Alliance under the Ares Accord."_

Jensen turned the page. A group photo of Shepard and several cheering Alliance soldiers. Shepard and Alenko were side by side, with Shepard's arm over Alenko's shoulder. _"Torfan,"_ said Anderson simply.

Jensen turned the page. A neurological diagnostics report on Shepard's brain. Someone wrote HOW DID THIS HAPPEN next to it in red ink.

_"This is from the first time Shepard started suffering from her neuropozyne symptoms, isn't it?"_ asked Jensen, already knowing the answer.

_"As you say...keep going."_

Jensen turned the page. Schematics for some kind of wetware.

"_This...this is a blueprint for a Soulcatcher._" said Walker in awe.

_"Soulcatcher?"_ asked Jensen and Anderson in unison.

_"Precursor to the Grayboxes made 2032 - very similar design - but Soulcatchers don't just record whatever the implantee wants them to, they record EVERYTHING: memories, experiences, skills. Problem is there's only so much data you can cram into a small chip, so they filled up to capacity pretty quickly. According to this blueprint, though...Hein fixed that problem."_

Anderson voice went deadly cold. _"The L3s, the Graybox...Hein...you...you just wanted your precious hardware back, you son of a bitch."_

_Jensen ignored him. "Any ideas where that Soulcatcher is stored? Hein had someone pick up Shepard's wetware before we could get a look at what was inside."_

_"Special Projects is as good as any place to look, Jensen," _reminded Walker.

_"Of course."_

Jensen skimmed the last few pages of the scrapbook. Pictures of Shepard and Alenko, reports on Shepard's actions during the Blitz, Akuze, Torfan...Shepard had distinguished herself in all three bloody campaigns, and they pinned quite a few medals on her chest.

And after Eden Prime, there would be nothing else to read.

_"...I think I'm done here."_ Jensen gently put down the book right where it was, and picked up the keycard. _"Headed down to Special Projects." _

_**~[h+]~**_

In the mess hall, Tali sat across from Doctor Ross as she ate her meal of bits of raw fish wrapped in rice and seaweed. Usually it would gall her to see someone eat something without a suit, but she wasn't sure she would enjoy eating something so odd anyways. Thus free of envy, Tali observed for the first time how humans ate with an obscene fascination as she slurped her liquid meal through her emergency induction port. Aki caught her staring and laughed a bit.

"What, do I have something on my nose?"

"Oh! err... I didn't mean to stare! I just rarely get to see an alien eat, that's all."

"How come?"

"...They tend to throw their utensils at me and scream..." Tali tried her best angry Turian impression "...'get away from my food you filthy suit rat!'"

Aki winced. "Oh."

"Gunshots follow, sometimes." Tali continued. At Aki's awkward silence, Tali wisely decided to change the subject. "Let's... not talk about how much my Pilgrimage sucked." She pointed at Aki's dessert, a handful of flat cookies in a plastic container with the address of a restaurant with an unpronounceable name printed on the side. "What are those?"

"Those? Those are _hwajeons."_

"Are those... flower petals on them?"

"Yes, azaleas and cherry blossoms. Normally _hwajeons_ don't have the blossoms, but that's fusion cuisine for you." Aki leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell Hein, but those cost me around fifteen thousand credits."

"...Wow."

"Eep! I know, right? But I haven't had some earth food for a while and _Hwajeons_ are a favorite of mine. Worth every penny."

"But why are those so expensive? It's just flour and flowers..."

"The blossoms are very hard to come by on the Citadel, and demand has been rising among the Asari and Elcor. Supply is low, demand is high, and whoever sells the stuff can pretty much set their own prices. Honestly, I'm amazed I could get it so cheap...Whoever this-" Aki took a look at the box. "-Hwang is, he's raking it in."

Just then, Tali caught something move move behind Aki. She tried to focus on where she saw the distortion, but it was gone.

Her helmet's glass was probably warped, she decided. She'd have to look into fixing it later.

_**~[h+]~**_

_"Walker, did you hear that?" _asked Jensen sub-vocally as he cut through the mess hall on his way to the Med/Sci section and into the Special Projects room.

_"...What, the pancakes? Jensen, if you're that hungry then by all means knock both of them out and eat their food. It's not like you're on an infiltration mission aboard a military ship or anything."_

_"No, I mean the petals! God, it was right there on the Codex and it slips my mind - the food industry!"_

_"...You've lost me."_

_"Shepard's killer left a bouquet of cherry blossoms at the scene, so I looked into florists who sold the flower. Didn't find a single one, but I hadn't considered restaurants!"_

_"And you think this Hwang is involved with the killer, somehow. Because of Cherry Blossoms." _Walker couldn't help but sound a little patronizing.

_"I think the killer might be supplying Hwang's restaurant with Cherry Blossoms."_

_"...That's a bit of a stretch, Jensen." _Walker said, skeptical._ "From what Harkin told us, the killer isn't lacking in money."_

_"Maybe it's not really his- or her - money to spend. It's most likely funding for a hit. If she ever needed extra cash for some luxuries or even just paying rent, selling cherry blossoms as a delicacy would be a good way to do it. It's worth looking into, at the very least."_

_"...Fine, I'll do a few extranet searches on Hwang's and we'll head there as soon as you're out of the Durendal."_

Garrus IM'ed Jensen just as he made it to the large security door that led to Special Projects:

**_G: Finally got Hein to be quiet for a moment and listen to my questions_**

Says the only way to make a concealable particle blaster is to use a short helix barrel, remove all the heat management, and carry a separate power source.

_"Without a heat sink, whoever shot Alenko should have been badly burned, or at least would have had to drop the slagged weapon right away."_ concluded Jensen.

**_G: That's what I thought, too._**

**_G: Brb, we're testing out the NoiseBlaster on some inmates now._**

Need both hands to cover ears can't type

Jensen typed in the access code, and the heavy security door groaned open. He cursed under his breath at the noise, expecting it would cause Zorah and the other woman to come and investigate. When he was satisfied that they wouldn't be coming, Jensen stepped into the Special Projects Lab...

...And found himself face to face with another security door. Adam pulled out the card he found in Hein's room, but before he could use it, the security door groaned open. And then another security door down the hall.

_"Huh."_

_"Did you get scanned again, Jensen?"_

_"I don't think so."_ Adam turned on his smart vision. No scanners. _"I think this pass is wireless._ _Just having it is enough, apparently."_

_"...Well, try to be careful. I have a bad feeling about this."_

_"Hmph. Didn't think you cared."_

_"If you get caught, it's my arse on the line."_

The Special Project Lab's main hall gave access to several seven rooms, six of them on the left and right of Jensen, the last one in front of him. The walls were made out of a bronze colored metal that reflected the light from the dim neons mounted on the ceiling. The side rooms' doors were wide open, offering glimpses of what was inside of them as Jensen walked by. One of them had a great deal of biotech equipment, including a large glass cylinder. This was cloning equipment.

_"Here's a theory."_ said Jensen sub-vocally. _"Hein decides to bring Shepard back from the dead by cloning her. Clone goes insane, escapes, murders and rapes Kaidan."_

_"Possible,"_ agreed Walker. _"But the rape kit just came in negative on all counts. The only thing the techs found that could be considered remotely sexual was saliva on Kaidan's fingers."_

Garrus messaged: Ah, that explains the sucking noises. DNA match anything?

_"Nothing on file, unfortunately, but it definitely belongs to a woman. The techs also found skin and blood under Kaidan's fingernails and...hm."_

_"What is it?" _

_"The blood is a synthetic substitute O negative that you would find in any hospital. The skin samples, however...I'm not sure what to make of them. Those cells... belong to either a human being or...or an octopus."_

_"Well, there goes my clone theory."_

_"Oh, don't feel too bad, Jensen," said Walker condescendingly. "It wasn't a bad guess, really."_

Jensen walked into the room at the end of the hall. A mess of electronic equipment was on the floor and mounted on the walls. Coolant mist lingered on the floor, disturbed only by Jensen's feet. The centerpiece of the room was a black pedestal, with a silvery monolith split vertically in half mounted on top of it and a multitude of cables plugged into its base. At the center of the two pieces of silver was a hexagonal chip. Lines of yellow-green light pulsed across it and radiated out into the silver mounts.

_"That chip...That's the central component of Shepard's graybox," _saidWalker_._ _"And this setup...The hardware is human but the configuration is... almost Prothean."_

As Jensen approached the pedestal, he noticed something on the ground, inside the mist. It was a Steiner-Bisley Zenith 10mm pistol. Jensen's smart vision picked out nine bullets on the ground, which meant there was still one in the gun's chamber. Next to the gun was a datapad. Jensen picked it up and attempted to read it, but the terms and numbers were a bit beyond him. The one thing he could read was the blinking status report.

DATA CORRUPTION: 99.92%

_"No..."_ Anderson almost whimpered. _"She's completely gone._ _I was hoping something would be left her beyond a cold corpse..."_

_"Anderson..." _said Jensen as he looked at the gun again._ "I think...I think Hein took Shepard's death even harder than you did. I think he is..."_

_"No, don't you dare say it! Hein is nothing to Shepard, NOTHING! Where was Hein for the first fifteen goddamned years of her life?! Where was Hein when she proudly took the Oath of Service after years of painful training and surgery?! Where was Hein when her ENTIRE WORLD HAD BEEN BURNED TO THE GROUND?! I was there! Me!"_

Neither Walker nor Jensen answered.

_"If you'll excuse me..."_ Anderson said calmly. _"I need to bring Jun's body back home."_

Walker protested. _"Mister Anders-"_

_"-Let him go."_ Jensen interrupted as he put the datapad back down. He approached the pedestal, getting a good look at it the hexagonal chip. There was a data jack on the side of the silver mounts. _"Well, here it is, Shepard's Graybox._ _Where do I go from here?"_

Walker sighed. "I don't know. I was hoping we'd find something more damning than this. Owning biotech hardware is hardly illegal, and neither is grooming someone to become a biotic supersoldier."

"I thought the Alliance frowned on augmentation."

_"Not when it comes to Biotics, for obvious reasons...In any case, this has been a major waste of time. I'm pulling the plug on this op. Get out of there and come back to C-Sec academy right away."_

Jensen pulled out another wire from his Omni-Tool.

_"What. Are you. Doing?"_ asked Walker, punctuating almost every word.

_"You saw the report, there's still point-oh-eight percent worth of data that's intact in there. I think I've got enough room in my Omni-Tool to make a copy of that."_

_"What? What the hell for?!"_

_"If that small portion of data contains Shepard's last moments, then I might have an even better look at the killer. It's worth a shot."_

_"Hein probably put a ton of Black ICE to protect his network!"_

"That's why I'm going to connect to the chip direct-there's a plug on the side of the mount. I'll route my Neural Hub's MHD-998 through my Omni-Tool to crack any local security."

_"Jensen! Don't do-"_

But it was too late. Jensen had already jacked in.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: BIOTECH: BIO-ELECTRIC CAPACITORS<em>

_The OVO Corporation Bio-Electric capacitor (also known as OVO-Pack) is a bio-engineered non-sentient organism that absorbs electricity and stores it in cells which in turn are caught in a nutrient-rich bio-gel suspension. While it takes much longer to charge than a regular super-capacitor, the BEC has several thousand times the capacitance of any other type of battery. A single 250ml OVO-Pack can power an entire home for a few months, though it would take at most two weeks to recharge. A 600 gallon (2640 liters) OVO-Pack can provide a colony with emergency power for at least six days._

_The galaxy at large has been slow to adopt the technology due to the bio-engineered nature of the Ovo-Pack's primary component. However, much like Medi-Gel, the Ovo-Pack has proven to be far too useful to ban. _

_OVO is currently working on creating a new type of photosynthetic power plant based on the BEC to provide cheap and plentiful power for the colonies._

* * *

><p><em>CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: WEAPONS: G302D 'Serpent' Assault Carbine<em>

_The culmination of Mako Ballistics' project Nocturne (and the successor to the failed Mag-Rail project), the Serpent is a man-portable charged particle beam weapon designed to easily overcome most armors, including those made with CNT materials, by transferring excessive kinetic energy into a target's molecules, not to mention an incredible amount of heat into the whole target itself. As such, the Serpent is all at once an excellent anti-personel and anti-armour weapon, compatible with a wide range of power systems (including the new 375 ml Ovo-Pack, which provides it with 35 shots)._

_Unfortunately for Mako Ballistics, The UNAS government decided to scrap the Serpent in favor of the new line of Avenger Assault rifles, which incorporated a Phasic envelope generator that improved the kinetic weapon's performance against kinetic barriers. For all its physical might, the Serpent performed little better than any other assault rifle against shields._

_Mako Ballistics went bankrupt the following year. Edgar Hein, who had overseen Project Nocturne for the UNAS government (and had been one of its major proponents) bought the fabrication rights for the Serpent, along with a dozen of the original production models, as Mako liquidated its assets._


	17. Chapter 15: Behind Those Masks

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 15: Behind those Masks**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Shepard hated hospitals. She had her fill of hospitals during the battery of treatments that were meant to enhance her biotic potential, and during those horrible months she had learned to hate the various smells of a hospital. Disinfectant mingled with piss. God, she hated that worst of all, it made her so miserable.<em>

_Shepard hated her neuropozyne treatments. They were few and far between well enough, but the meds -Oh, the meds!- turned her into a ghastly mess. Soon there would be cold sweats, vomiting, loss of bowel control, and worst of all...dementia. A whole week of dementia. That was why she didn't let Chakwas do the treatment: the Normandy's sickbay was small and had little in the way of privacy. She didn't want the crew to see her like this. She didn't want them to hear her shout obscenities at shadows. _

_She didn't want Kaidan to see her like this. It's why she sent him away. She had said such harsh things after pulling rank on him, but he just wouldn't leave otherwise. This...this was better. _

_It was so hard to focus. Goddamned medicine._

_She heard the door opening, and let out an exasperated sigh._

_"I told you to go away..." she groaned._

_She heard footsteps, and then scent of fresh cherry blossoms cut through the stink of disinfectant. She could make out a figure - Kaidan's, no doubt - putting a bouquet down on the commode by the window._

_Shepard hated flowers. But once upon at time, she used to love them so very much. Her mother was a botanist, and above all else Shepard loved to work with her in the greenhouse. They had worked so hard to bring life and color to the colony. Lotuses and oleanders, roses and lantanas, orchids and lilies... they had nurtured a multitude of flowers in that greenhouse, and had spread them across every garden that would take them._

_But then the Slavers came, and since then the flowers no longer brought her joy. They only served to recall the the painful memories of rapists and murderers laughing as people were corralled like cattle. It reminded her of that vow she made to herself in that house of shattered glass as the three men she had killed voided their bowels as their blood left their veins._

_Make them pay._

_It was the vow that had led her all the way to Torfan, it was the vow that she broke when she had decided that the lives of a thousand soldiers were far more important than her revenge. Kaidan, oh, her sweet Kaidan, how he had held her back that day..._

_No, she would not dwell on it. She would push the memories aside, like she always did._

_She felt the warmth of a presence next to her. She eyes tried to focus on its face, but she couldn't get past the shades and the hood._

_The figure removed them and smiled at her tenderly._

_"M...Mom?"_

_She knew it couldn't be. It was the meds. She was delirious, and she knew it, but at that moment she wanted to be. It was a chance to say I love you again. A chance to say goodbye, to say I'm sorry, to-_

_Shepard felt something cold inside of her heart, and she saw her mother's face twisting in an expression of glee and hatred. She knew what had happened. She could feel her life being drained, her consciousness ebbing away, her tears welling up in her eyes._

_"Why?!" she asked her murderer, and the question echoed in her ears as darkness took her._

_..._

_..._

_"...**because you would not obey."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

"...Why?!" Jensen gasped as he unplugged the Omni-tool from the pedestal and he fell to the ground, tears in his eyes and the horrible feeling of cold metal inside his chest. He could hear voices in head, and it took him a moment to realize that he was hearing Vakarian and Walker shouting at him through his connection.

"Jensen? Jensen! Spirits and Titans talk to me, man!"

"Garrus? Wha- Argh! my head..." Jensen felt like the inside of his skull was on fire.

Walker's usually pleasant voice was like a battering ram in his eardrums. "Jensen, what the hell happened?!"

"I...I-I jacked in and then..."

"You've been silent for thirty bloody minutes!" continued Walker. "Hein left C-Sec Academy ten minutes ago, get out of there!"

"Thirty minutes?!...It can't be...how?!"

"Jensen, we're already on our way and we'll be waiting for you outside the spaceport's terminal, right by the main entrance." Vakarian couldn't keep the worry out of his voice. _"Can you make it?"_

Jensen managed to get back on his feet, shaking his head and forcing himself back into full consciousness. The colors seemed brighter and the sounds felt sharper for a moment, and then his senses went back to normal, including his balance.

_"Hurry up!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

"So, what took you so long?" asked Aki as Edward 'Wolf' Grey walked into the cargo bay. He pushed two buttons on his Nightmare helmet and it loosened its grip on his head, allowing him to remove it. Behind him were four Quarians, with the three adults being flanked by the slightly lanky Neil 'Highwind' Flemming and the incredibly large Ryan 'Paladin' Whitaker, who had the quarian child riding on his shoulders. Tali rushed to them to see if they were hurt, and was immediately drowned in their gratitude.

"We had the mother of all bathroom breaks, that's what!" answered Neil. Aki frowned.

"The kid had a..." Grey hesitated to say. "...a full tank. The protocols needed to remove a bag of liquid waste from a Quarian suit are apparently pretty complicated and couldn't be done from the inside of an aircab. We had stop at a clinic for a clean room. They didn't even charge us."

Aki gave Edward a look, glancing at his armor, the various grenades on his belt and his Serpent assault carbine. "Hm, can't imagine why."

Edward, sensing her meaning (and sarcasm), chuckled. "I know, and yet it's like fully armed and armored soldiers are a common sight on the Citadel. We didn't even get stopped by C-Sec, not even _once._"

"Alright little man," said Ryan as he set the Quarian boy down. "Go say hi to Auntie Tali and give her a hug."

"Hey! I'm too young to be an aunt!" Tali protested as Fyodor scampered to Tali and wrapped his arms around her ample hips. Her outrage faded instantly. "...dangit."

Ryan let out a good-natured laugh as he removed his helmet. He was a dark skinned human with white cornrows on his head and a goatee surrounding a generous mouth constantly curled in a warm smile.

The smaller soldier also removed his helmet, revealing a skin that hadn't seen the sunlight in years. He had short, swept back brown hair and a deeply rooted stubble. "I gotta say, that was the _cleanest_ sewer I've ever seen in my life!"

"Why, you make a it habit of visiting sewers, Neil?" said Jane behind Neil as she pushed the hover-cart past the thick cargo ramp, which also doubled as the Durendal's cargo bay's main door. Behind her was Hein, happily whistling a tune.

"Aw man, why do have to go and bust my chops? I'm just saying, you'd expect filth on the walls or something, but nope! The place is so clean you could eat off the floor!"

Edward ignored him and saluted Hein. "I take it you sold a few things, sir?"

"Hm? Oh yes! Two crates of Serpents, four crates of rechargeable bio-capacitors, and one Noiseblaster. The anti-riot applications for the Noiseblaster made it an easy sell, but Pallin was on the fence about the Serpents. But once I told him that they could make quick work of Carbon Nanotube armor, he decided to buy eight of them for evaluation purposes, and I expect we'll be able to negotiate a fabrication rights contract soon enough."

"Carbon nanotube armor is a problem on the Citadel?"

"It's starting to become a problem everywhere, and it's not just CNT materials, either. Non-Newtonian fluid held together by a mass effect field can render any common crook temporarily invulnerable. Not a whole lot of people want to admit it, but defensive technologies are catching up to the killing power of kinetic small arms..."

Hein continued walking towards the inside of the ship. He took notice of the group of quarians he had tasked Grey with rescuing as part of his deal with Zorah. "Ah, and I see your mission was successful. So how does it feel to finally stretch your legs?"

"After three years of rehab and four of crap assignments..." Edward took a deep breath and sighed with relief. "...It feels pretty good to know that I haven't lost my edge, sir. Still, a bunch of armed gangbangers wasn't a real challenge for the Deep Eyes."

"Well, you might get your chance: It's a crazy galaxy out there. Also-" Hein stopped suddenly in the middle of the cargo bay and looked around, like an animal scanning for a hidden predator. Or a prey.

"Something wrong, sir?"

"...I thought I felt something move past me."

"It's probably just the wind, sir. The bay doors are wide open."

_"...It's NEVER just the wind!"_ Hein grabbed one of Edward's chaff grenades, threw it at the ceiling and shot it with his sidearm. Its explosion rained down a shower of sparks and slow falling Snowblind particles onto everyone, including a cloaked figure that had suddenly appeared in the middle of group. It was a distorted and transparent phantom, which glowed faintly with yellow-green light with flecks of cyan.

"Intruder!" shouted Edward as he pointed his Serpent at the figure. Without missing a beat, Neil pointed his DMR at the intruder, Ryan withdrew his sawed-off shotgun and activated his Riot Omni-Shield, and Jane took out her knife and pistol and dropped into a CQC stance. They all commanded the phantom to put its hands up, and it complied...before it grasped its head in pain and fell to its knees.

**"aaaAAAAaarrrgh!"**

"Aki, get the civvies out of here!" commanded Edward. "Ryan, secure that thing!"

Ryan was understandably confused, as he had never had to secure a ghost before. "How, sir?"

"It's obviously some guy in a malfunctioning stealth unit, just Omni-Cuff him!"

"Aw, great. Just what we need! A _ghost-head._" Neil commented sarcastically.

Ryan complied with Edward's order - or at least tried to. Instead, he was grabbed by a giant haptic hand by the head and thrown into a pile of crates some five meters away. The phantom stood erect, glowing brighter than ever, but nowhere near as bright as its left hand. It was wrapped in a mess of holographic cubes forming an imitation of a gauntlet. The phantom's form appeared like a man in a regal robe, with a half-circle headdress with beads hanging from the sides.

"Target hostile!" shouted Jane.

"Weapons free, open fire!"

"Die, ghost!"

As the three Deep Eyes fired upon the phantom, a multitude of crystalline hexagons appeared and shattered as bullets and particle shots impacted against them, protecting their creator. The phantom growled, growing more annoyed with each attack. Instead of giving expression to its anger, it simply said one word:

**"JAM."**

As if obeying their master, the Deep Eyes' weapons stopped firing. And before Jane could even think about engaging the intruder with her knife, an unseen force emanating from the glowing gauntlet pushed her away.

"What in the hell...?!" muttered Edward.

The phantom's regal form distorted, and spoke again. **"I...I...I havE t-To gEt out of here... my partner, the woman...I hHave to...fiNd...thEm"**The phantom screamed and ran for the cargo bay door. The Deep Eyes gave chase as far as the ramp, as the phantom vanished into the docks.

Neil voiced what everyone was thinking. "...Okay, someone explain to me what the hell happened here?"

Hein walked up behind them all, grinning. "Something... _magnificent_, Mister Flemming," he said, tapping his chin. Things were coming together in such delightfully unexpected ways...

_**~[h+]~**_

"I'm not waiting - I'm going in there," said Garrus firmly as he checked his Mongoose's ammo block and shaver. Walker stopped him.

"And what do you think that's going to accomplish? The Deep Eyes may have fallen on hard times, but they are still some of the best the United States has to offer."

"How many are there?"

"Four."

"Not enough to stop me." Garrus holstered his pistol for emphasis. Walker rolled her eyes: the posturing didn't impress her at all.

"Oh for crying out- Look, there he is, and no one's chasing him. Drop the bravado."

Garrus looked at the main entrance to the spaceport, and true enough, Jensen was stepping through the automatic doors with a hurried stride and a furrowed brow...

"Jensen!" Garrus walked up to his partner and put his hand on Adam's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Walker, however, wasn't so courteous. "Get. In. The. Car." And before Jensen could reply she had gotten in the vehicle's passenger's seat, her arms crossed. She didn't look very happy, but neither Garrus nor Adam could understand why. After all, as far Walker knew Jensen had gotten in and out without incident.

Jensen approached the vehicle and recognized it. It had a fresh coat of blue paint and looked almost fresh out of the dealership, but he recognized it. "...Is that my car?"

"Hm? Oh yeah, apparently Ms. Walker over here paid the repair bill.

"Great, remind me to check for bugs. Or bombs."

Garrus chuckled. "But seriously Jensen, are you alright? You don't look too good."

"All I know is that my energy reserves are at ten percent and that I'm really, _really_ hungry. Don't suppose you got some candy bars on you?"

If turians could smirk, Garrus would be doing it right now. "I do, but they're all dextro."

Jensen groaned. "Damn."

_**~[h+]~**_

Inside the car, Jensen sat in the backseat while Garrus sat in the driver's seat. Walker had set the coordinates to Hwang's, a restaurant that made a fortune feeding pan-asian cuisine to rich Asari in Edroki Plaza on Kithoi Ward. It wasn't that far, but Walker had programmed a somewhat scenic route to give them time to talk.

"So what happened in there for that half-hour?" asked Walker.

"I was getting worried that they had caught you, Jensen." said Vakarian.

Jensen rubbed his forehead, trying to massage the last vestiges of his headache away. "They very nearly did."

Walker was indignant. "They saw you?!"

"Kinda, Hein threw a chaff grenade and got my cloak to distort, then..."

"...Yes? Then what?"

"I...I don't remember."

Walker palmed her face. "Oh, _fantastic_."

"Well," Garrus typed on his Omni-Tool, checking on dispatcher updates. "We haven't received an APB for a human in a brown coat, so I suppose they haven't ID'd you."

"Please tell me you got something out of that reader, at least," sighed Walker.

"Yeah, yeah, here." Jensen activated his Omni-Tool. It immediately went haywire, creating a multitude of random prisms that hovered around his hand. Jensen realized it was still plugged into his cerebral jack, and as soon as he disconnected it the prisms vanished the Omni-Tool's haptic interface returned to normal. The Omni-Gel indicator flashed red: the tank was empty.

"...Well, that was weird," commented Garrus as he reached for the glove compartment and took out a bottle of Omni-Gel. He handed it to Jensen, who promptly refilled his Tool's tank. "Think Hein left a surprise in your Omni-Tool?"

"If he did he didn't do that great a job of protecting his data, because-" Jensen's eyes widened at his Omni-Tool's screen: the data wasn't there.

"What?"

"The data isn't there! Dammit, it _should_ be there, I saw Shepard's last moments!"

Walker went from annoyed to incredulous. "You...interpreted Soulcatcher data?"

"More like experienced."

"That's..."

Garrus interrupted her. "Really? Well, did you get a look at the killer, at least?"

"...It was her mother. Or someone that looked a lot like her."

"I thought you ID's the prep as a male?"

"As a possible male. There's no accounting for disguises...Walker, did you say the skin cells reminded you of those of an octopus?"

"They did."

"Well, what if we're dealing with a shape-shifter, here? I thought we were dealing with two killers: one for Shepard, one for Alenko, but what if we're dealing with just one?"

Garrus rolled his eyes. "A shapeshi- oh come on, Jensen! Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi!"

"...You live on a _space station._"

"...Yeah, so?"

Walker tapped her chin pensively. "It's...not impossible. Nature has yielded animals with incredible camouflaging abilities, so why not sentients? The Sirius Clusters has yielded some interesting new species, so far..."

"Ah, dammit!" Garrus groaned. "If that's what we're dealing with, then this case is going to be a long one. How do you catch someone that can simply transform himself into someone else?"

Walker smiled. "Well, we can thank the late Mr Alenko, as he's given us a way to ID the killer."

"Do explain."

"I had a closer look at the skin cells found on Alenko's fingers and I've concluded that they don't heal very well. Since Alenko scratched a part of his killer's body, the wound should still be present."

"You ever hear of Medi-Gel?" asked Garrus sarcastically. "You know, miracle gunk that heals everything?"

"I considered that: and I ordered The techs to immerse the skin cells in Medi-Gel. The cells began to replicate uncontrollably, as if cancerous."

"So," concluded Jensen, "if we pick up the killer's trail at Hwang's, we'll be able to ID him or her at a glance if Alenko went for the face."

"And if Alenko got the arms or the body?" asked Garrus. "What then? Ask the suspect to strip?"

"If it comes to that, sure."

_**~[h+]~**_

_Hwang's Authentic Oriental Delights_ was, Adam decided (and Walker agreed), the most gaudy oriental-themed resto-bar he had ever been to in his life, and he had been in quite a few. The seats, booths and bar were made out of dark varnished wood with bas-reliefs of dragons carved into them, the carper was a bright red with gold trim, rice paper partitions and paper lanterns were _everywhere. _And for some reason, there was a small rock garden in the middle of the place, with a plinking bamboo waitresses' uniforms consisted of a short red and black kimono that showed off their legs, thigh-high black silk socks (a popular Asian fetish), lacquered wooden sandals, a garish Indonesian headdress made out of (fake) gold coins with loop earrings to match. At least Hwang resisted the urge to put "Asian" themed music on the speakers. Still, the somewhat repetitive techno (which was synched up to a seizure inducing cartoon dragon flying all over the OLED walls) felt out of place.

Naturally, the place was almost full. The greeter (who had a smile so big and honest Jensen wondered if the whole staff was on some kind of upper) still managed to find them a table for three, next to an Elcor and his Asari girlfriend. The Elcor, Adam noticed was enjoying a small bowl of fresh Cherry Blossoms, fed to him one by one by his date.

"I see Elcor, some turians, _lots_ of Asari and Salarians...but not a lot of humans," said Garrus. "You'd think an Earth-themed restaurant would have more humans frequenting it."

"You'd think." Jensen agreed. "What's the human population on Kithoi?"

"About five hundred." answered Garrus. "You'd also think that this Hwang fella would open this place at Shin Akiba. Curious."

"That's probably the point: places like this are a dime a dozen at Shin Akiba. Here, it stands out, right in the sights of young Asari who are going through a Terran cultural craze right now."

The greeter had given them each two menus, once silver, one gold. The silver menu detailed the affordable dishes, while the gold menu detailed the...not so affordable ones. Naturally, Walker ignored the silver menu while Garrus and Adam couldn't get rid of the gold ones fast enough. Garrus was pleasantly surprised to find that _Hwang's_ sold quite a few Dextro variants of the Asian-Terran dishes.

They quickly made up their minds: Jensen ordered an eighteen ounce Water Buffalo steak with a side order of fried rice and a black soda. Walker ordered up a sushi platter with caviar, with a bowl of _yàn wō _ and a cup of _sakurayu_. Garrus simply ordered a bowl of Dextro-Ramen and a glass of water.

"I hear this ramen is a delicacy back on Earth. Can't wait to try it." At Walker's snicker, Garrus tightened his mandibles. "What? It's not?"

"Ramen, even the non-instant variety, is about a common as pasta on Earth." supplied Jensen. "You're about to pay thirty-five hundred credits for Palaven wheat, Vakarian."

Garrus held his head up high. "Well, since I haven't had Palaven wheat in years, I'll gladly pay those three thousand credits! So there."

"Whatever you say, Vakarian."

They only needed to wait about half an hour for their food. Not bad, considering how big and how full the restaurant was. The food's aroma hit Jensen's nose like a speeding truck. He hadn't quite realized how hungry he was and he wolfed down his food fairly quickly, and before long all he had left to do was sip his drink and watch as Garrus struggled to eat his Ramen with chopsticks, and watching Walker slowly eat her sushi.

So very, VERY slowly eat her sushi. It was almost hypnotic the way her lips wrapped around the seaweed cylinder and - Jensen shook his head. No. No no no he wasn't going to fall for that. Never again. Then again, it wasn't like she was paying him any attention: she was glancing at some data stream on her Omni-Tool. She looked almost bored.

Garrus gave up on the chopsticks and used a fork. "Say, what was that soup you ate?" he asked Walker. "It smelled kinda familiar."

"It was _yàn wō _." Walker answered.

"...Oh, okay." Garrus leaned towards Jensen, gently elbowed him in the arm and asked. "What's that?"

"Congealed bird spit in broth." answered Jensen flatly. To his surprise, Garrus wasn't grossed out by this at all.

"Isn't she a little old for that?"

"... I'm not sure i get what you mean."

"Right, I should explain: Turian females generate a nutrient rich spit that throughout a pregnancy. It congeals quickly They make hundreds of crunchy dry cakes out of it. When the baby's born it is fed the stuff for the first few months of its life...What, don't human females do that for their kids?"

"Sorta. Their breasts swell with a nutrient rich liquid."

"Oh." Garrus took a quick glance at Walker's chest. "Well, I see Walker is off to a great start on that."

"_Excuse me._" said an irritated Walker through gritted teeth. "You _do_ know that I'm sitting right here and that i can hear you, right?"

"Don't worry, I'm sure Vakarian's interest in your chest is purely scientific." Jensen deadpanned. "How's your sushi?"

Walker held back a retort and resumed her professional demeanor. "How's your so-called Water Buffalo?"

"It's...protein rich. By which i mean it's molded protein flavored and textured to resemble Buffalo meat. I take it the fish in your sushi is the same?"

"It is."

Garrus couldn't keep up with them. "Wait, what are-"

Walker interrupted him "-I can't quite place the caviar, though. It feels like the real stuff but the _flavor_ is off."

Jensen took a small spoonful of the caviar, crushed some between his finger and thumb and smelled the gunk. "It's some kind of fish flavored juice that's been spherified. That doesn't bode very well for your bird spit. Or the blossoms in your tisane."

Garrus was still confused. "Guys-"

"Oh no, those are both authentic. I scanned the pickled blossoms to make sure."

"Well, I think we've got enough to confront this Hwang fella and make him sweat a bit." Jensen got up. "Let's have a word with the owner and...compliment him on his choice of chefs." Walker got up without a word to follow him.

Garrus' mind, meanwhile, was still trying to catch up. "...Is my ramen _even_ _made_ of Palaven wheat?"

"Probably not!" Jensen answered loudly, as he was already meters away on his way to Hwang's office. Garrus threw his fork on the table and rose from this seat. Thirty-five hundred credits wasted.

_**~[h+]~**_

The trio marched through the kitchen, striding intently towards Hwang's office as a waitress futilely tried to stop them. Kitchen was a bit of a generous term for this place. It looked much more like a factory floor, with dozens of white robotic arms mounted on rails on the ceiling that prepared orders with mechanical precision.

As they barged in the office, Hwang was sitting at his desk, his face pursed as if he put the sourest piece of candy in his mouth. As they approached the desk, Jensen noticed a gold headdress on the owner's desk.

"M-Mister JenSEEEEN!...I-is there something i can...help..._YOU!_...with?" asked Hwang as he kept both hands suspiciously under the desk. Jensen didn't need his smart vision to figure out what was going on.

"You can tell the waitress under your desk to leave so we can talk in private."

"I...have no idea what you're talking about." Hwang betrayed a slight Australian accent just then, much like Walker's.

Jensen kicked the heavy wooden desk, causing it to be pushed back half an inch. It was enough for the waitress pleasuring Hwang to let out a quick yelp.

"You sure about that?"

Hwang zipped up, and grabbed the waitress by the shoulders and helped her up. She sheepishly reclaimed her headdress and excused herself from the scene. Walker stopped her just for a moment, handing her a napkin. She silently pointed to the corner of her mouth.

"...Oh! thank you..." she said gratefully as she wiped the wet stain away, and left the office, closing the door behind her.

"Mister Hwang..." said Walker, sauntering towards the owner. "Or should I call you Rudy Cullen? Nice yellow-face."

"Hey! How do you know my real name?"

"It's my job to know these things. We have a few a questions for you, if you don't mind."

"Yeah? Give me a good reason why I shouldn't call C..." he eyed Jensen, then Garrus, and remembered who they worked for. "Aw, hell. What do you want to know? And before you ask: Yeah, she's legal and consenting!"

"We're here about the Cherry Blossoms." said Jensen.

"What about them? I import them straight from Earth and..."

"Cut the crap, 'Hwang'. Importing perishables into the Citadel is nearly impossible. Unless you're admitting you're smuggling-"

"What?! No!" Hwang protested, and Jensen's CASIE reported the reaction as a genuine one.

"Then you're getting the stuff locally. The question is, from whom?"

"Oh no. Oh nonono I still need the revenue from that! The stuff sells for a fortune, I'll be RUINED if you shut my provider down!"

Garrus shrugged. "Cry me a river."

"This is important." Jensen insisted. "Your provider may be our prime suspect in a murder case. Tell us who he or she is and we'll be on our way."

Hwang seemed shocked, but then he shook his head. "You know what? No. And you can't actually make me do or say anything unless you got a warrant, and you can't get a warrant without plausible evidence! So fuck. _You_. And so long!"

"Oh we got plausible evidence, and we can go and get ourselves a warrant to bring you in for a chat. And while we're at the station, we just might give a phone call to some friends at the Citadel trade commission? I'm sure they'd love to know about the little scam you got going here."

"Hey, there's no scam going on here I run a legitimate business!"

Walker crossed her arms. "You advertise your meals as authentic. Your menus go on about the far off exotic locations you get your ingredients from. Never mind the fact that your caviar is congealed fish juice..."

"Your meat is local molded protein..."continued Jensen.

"And your ramen tastes...okay." Garrus didn't think it would ever happen, but he wished he knew a bit more about gastronomy right about now. "Honestly, what else here is your brand of 'authentic'? Are those really asari out there or human girls in blue makeup?"

"And since Citadel Food and Drugs no doubt inspected your products, I'm guessing you bribed the inspectors in keeping your little secret," added Jensen.

"A visit by the CTC followed by a trip to the station would not be good for business." Walker smiled. "So you see, cooperating with us is in your best interest." And then, Walker's voice had a cold, menacing edge to it. "Tell. us. her. name."

Hwang cradled his face in despair. Either way, he was ruined. "...Diana Nielsen," he said as he fished out a holo-card out of his Omni-Tool and threw it at Walker.

"Thank you." Walker proceeded to do some extra-net searches. When the trio did not leave immediately, Hwang sighed.

"What? You got more questions for me?

"As a matter of fact," answered Jensen. "I do."

"Oh, _Wonderful_." Hwang groaned as he swept his slick black hair back with both hands and relaxed into his seat. "Ask away."

"Can you describe Diana Nielsen to me?"

"Tall, C-Cups, Dark hair, pale skin. Looks like she's got some Asian in her, but who in the OCU doesn't these days, right?"

"You don't." commented Walker.

Jensen ignored her. "She's OCU?"

"...Yeah, at least I think so. She has that Neo Kobe English accent. Sounds more Canadian than Australian."

"Did you say Neo Kobe?"

"What are you, deaf? That's what I said, yeah."

"...Right, sorry. When did you first encounter Diana Nielsen?"

"We met was around three years ago. She was a customer, and I was feeling kind of down on account of my ramen stand making less and less money every day so I decided to chat her up. She had this bouquet of cherry tree branches. I told her that if she liked I could take the leaves and whip up some _sakuramochi_ on the fly. It was a joke, of course, but it got us both talking about culinary applications for the stuff. She said she had more of the blossoms than she needed, and so we made a deal. All it took after that was a passing elcor and his asari girlfriend and before you knew it I was making money hand over fist."

"Why weren't you making any money before? Terran cooking had been 'in' for a while, now."

"Look, I tried to pass off my ramen as an earth delicacy to the aliens, but then some smartass Terran always came along and pointed out how common it is on earth. Assholes couldn't even tell the real thing from instant if their lives depended on it... Anyways, I figured I'd hire an Asari to mind the register -everyone likes Asari, right?- And it worked for a bit, too, but it didn't last. And then I had a blue mouth to feed on top of my other problems."

"I'm sure you managed to keep her mouth full," commented Garrus with a sneer. The insinuation wasn't lost on Hwang.

"Fuck you, kittybird." Hwang shot back.

Jensen continued with his questions. "What sort of deal did you make with Nielsen?"

"She's a silent partner. Gets 25 percent of any sale of anything with Cherry Blossoms or leaves in it. Don't know what she needs the money for, and I didn't ask. I used my share of the profits to build this place."

"You made a pretty amount of coin selling the real deal. Why all the fake food?"

"Oh come on, you must know already! After the bio-hazard scare of 2174 C-Sec's Custom's stranglehold on foodstuffs has been killing the business of any startup restaurant!. The Citadel's Hydroponics just don't make the stuff I need for the theme I had going! So I put my Molecular Gastronomy skills to good use and gave the people here something new and different and make their lives a little less dull!"

"Don't idealize what you're doing here. You're running a scam."

"People. WANT. To be. Fooled!" Hwang rose from his seat in anger. "Don't believe me? All the way back in 2010 people were willing to pay top dollar for 'organic' and 'free range' food that was for all intents and purposes the same goddamned thing you'd get at a regular grocery store, and they managed to convince _themselves_ that it somehow _tasted_ better! Still don't believe me? Look at all my customers out there!You think the aliens are that dumb? Anyone with a rich enough palate can tell I'm selling protein! But they go along with it anyways! Why? Fucked if I know! But there's a demand for sweet little lies, Detective, and I'm here to supply them! And if I can serve up some of the real stuff to make the lie just that much more believable then so much the better for everyone! Are we done here? Yes? Then get the fuck out of my restaurant!"

_**~[h+]~**_

The trio left Hwang's office, with Jensen and Vakarian more than a bit disgusted with the man and more than ready to out him to the CTC. Sarah didn't care: she had a name and an address and that's all she needed from him. Whether _Hwang's_ sank or swam was none of her concern.

They stopped at the sight of a dozen Asari crowded together in the kitchen. They looked at Jensen with fear and worry, until one of them - the greeter - stepped forward. "Are you...are you planning on shutting this place down?"

Jensen sighed. It was clear that the waitresses feared for their jobs. "...I haven't decided yet."

"...Is there any way we can convince you not to?"

Garrus became tense. "...Are you offering us a bribe?" he said accusingly.

"No! I heard stories about you two... those that try to bribe you tend to wind up in jail or in the hospital. All I ask is that you listen to me."

Walker rolled her eyes and groaned. "Jensen, I swear, if she asks you to solve her life's problems I will shoot her." She smiled. "Fair warning."

To her credit, the greeter ignored Walker and kept on speaking. "Look, I know what of kind impression Hwa- i mean, Rudy- leaves on you after meeting him for the first time, but he's really not that bad a guy, really. He's been pretty good to us and we've yet to find better wages anywhere else."

"And as a perk he gets to use any of you for sex?" asked Jensen.

"Ah, you saw Delphi and Rudy. Look, they have a thing going, it's exclusive and consensual and it's the subject of catty gossip between us but it's not like he made any advances to any of us to begin with." She shrugged. "It just sorta happened, you know? There's little romance in it and marriage isn't in the cards, but there's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

"No, I suppose there isn't."

"Look, we're _colonials_: our biotic potentials are nil, so Thessians treat us like crap and Merc groups won't even give us the time of day. Our options are too few. Rudy may use us for eye candy but it's better than what we've had to do before he hired us."

"And that would be?"

"Prostitution. And before you ask, yes, we all have our licenses, and that's part of the reason why we can't find other jobs. People look down on prostitutes unless they're all glamorous like the Consort and when your file has got a big red marker that says WHORE on it people tend to pass on your resume. I brought all of the girls here from the Upper Kithoi, and if Rudy's plans to start a chain pan out..." She smiled then, her eyes shining with a glimmer of hope. "I might be able to get more girls off of the streets!"

_"All_ Asari are good biotics!" shouted Garrus, unmoved. "Hell, I just got thrown out of a window by a class of asari tykes! You could totally find work as a merc you lying-"

"-Not without Eezo in our bodies! Most families on the colonies can't afford the Eezo rich nutrient paste the schools feed the kids. Go ahead, scan me! You'll see that I can't even manage a Throw!"

Jensen turned on his smart vision and gazed into the waitresses: not a single bright dot in their bodies. The greeter was telling the truth, but... "That doesn't change the fact that you're asking us to turn a blind eye to a scam, here."

"Are we really such horrible people? We serve fake food to people with more money than sense! We don't steal it. We don't snatch it away from the pockets of the poor. Do we really deserve to go back to the _Upper Wards_?"

"...No."

"Jensen!" Garrus was incredulous. As a turian, every fiber of his being told him that they deserve no less than to be judged harshly by their betters. "We can't ignore this!"

"It's the CTC's jurisdiction to handle stuff like this. We're C-Sec detectives on the murder desk and we just came in to have a bite to eat and we gave our compliments to the chef. Is that clear?"

"Jen-"

"Is. That. Clear?"

"...Yeah. I got it."

"Oh..." relief washed over the greeter, and then the rest of the staff. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Jensen wasn't quite done, however. "Look, I'll try to keep your secret but the truth of the matter is, my decision doesn't matter. Sooner or later someone else is going to figure this out and he won't be as understanding. Hell, he just might blackmail you or out you for shits and giggles. I take it you're Rudy's first hire?"

"I am." answered the greeter.

"And I take it he listens to you?"

"He does."

"Then convince him to drop the whole false advertisement angle. His profits may take a hit, but that's better than the CTC fining the place to oblivion and making C-Sec arrest you all. A criminal record won't do any of your girls any good."

Jensen left the greeter to think about his words. The trio made their way back to the entrance and paid for their food at the register. "Did you enjoy your meal, sir?" asked the Cashier. Jensen had to admit, before he figured out it was protein that steak did taste pretty good. Rudy, despite his other character flaws, was a talented molecular gastronomer.

"I did, actually." Jensen said with a slight smile. He waited for Garrus and Walker to pay their bills, left the restaurant, got back to the spinner, and set a straight course to Diana Nielsen's apartment. It was time to catch a killer.

_**~[h+]~**_

This time, Jensen was at the driver's seat, while Walker sat next to him in the passenger's seat. Vakarian sat in the back, sulking a bit. A silence fell over the car, barely disrupted by the hum of the Spinner's engine and the whirring of passing cars. Walker decided to break it.

"Are you _really_ that gullible, Jensen?"

"What are you even talking about?" Jensen replied. What was her problem now, he wondered.

"For all you know Hwang's could be a front for a drug operation and that greeter could have been in on it. A few Asari serving girls pout at you while telling you a sob story and that's enough to convince you to let them get away with a scam?"

Jensen couldn't exactly deny that the greeter had pulled at his heart-strings. Then again... "It's not like I have any evidence against them committing worse crimes than scamming stupid rich people."

Walker ignored him. "Maybe I should have approached you that way. Knock at your apartment door drenched in rain water, my clothes torn, my body shivering, my eyes red and my lip quivering..."

"Enough."

Walker's lips started quivering, and then she looked like she was genuinely on the verge of tears, and then the actual tears came. "_Oh please, mister Jensen!" _she sniffled._ "My employers want me to catch this horrible, horrible killer and they said that if I don't succeed they'll put me back on the street where they found me! But I don't want to suck cock anymore Mister Jensen! It tastes gross!" _And suddenly, Walker had dropped all pretense. "Boo-hoo-hoo. Still, I suspect you'd have caught the killer in minutes had I put on my battered housewife routine."

Jensen casually stepped on the brake pedal, causing the Spinner to come to a sudden stop and Walker's head to nearly hit the dashboard. Jensen took note of how quickly she put her arms forward to stop herself. She was quick. Too quick.

"You should put your seat belt on." Jensen said dryly.

"You did that on _purpose._" she said through gritted teeth.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Jensen as he stepped on the accelerator. "Speaking of catching killers, did you find anything on this Diana Nielsen?"

"Yes. I did," answered Walker coldly as she fixed her hair.

"...Anything you'd like to share?"

"...Diana Nielsen, Botanist, Age 32, height is five foot nine inches, blood type O negative, works for the Kithoi Botanical Gardens as a plant geneticist. Lives on the penthouse floor of building B of Elyse Apartments at the coordinates _I typed in already._ Supposedly a native of Neo-Kobe, which makes her an OCU citizen. This is all according to her social security file. Here's a picture, by the way." Walker conjured up a holo from her Omni-Tool. While the hair and skin tone matched both Shepard senior and junior, the shape of her face didn't quite match.

"'Supposedly' from the OCU? You don't know for sure?"

"She might have entered the Citadel with forged papers. I have no way of making sure in short order unless I make a trip to Earth. She's definitely a competent plant geneticist if she's been working for a place as prestigious as the Kithoi Botanical Gardens for as long as she as. Do we have a plan to deal with her once we arrive at her home?"

"Honestly, I hadn't thought that far ahead. Figured we'd have a look at around her apartment, ask her a few questions, stake her out for a while."

"Whatever we do, I think you should stay in the car."

"...Excuse me?"

Walker played back the audio file of Alenko's final moments. She singled out the part where Garrus and Jensen where heard, and the killer gasped.

"The killer fears you, Jensen."

"Yeah, with good reason."

"Indeed. And If Diana is our killer then I don't want to provoke her until we're absolutely, one hundred percent certain that she's the one we're looking for. After all, she did kill a trained Alliance Sentinel by tearing off his head. We'll most likely need a full Special Response squad to apprehend her."

"You don't mind putting yourself in danger like that?"

"Don't worry about me. After all, detective Vakarian will be there with me."

That brought Vakarian out of his funk. "Wait, I am?"

"Unless you think he's not up to the task, Jensen?"

Jensen didn't answer.

"Well?"

"Fine. I'll stay in the car."

_**~[h+]~**_

The Elyse Apartments were a pair of identical, five-story buildings in one of the fancier areas of Kithoi Ward. They were made of ferrous concrete on the inside, but had a clear and transparent skin of six-inch thick carbon glass and metal girders. They were separated by a red brick walkway, their entrances facing each other. The walkway was dotted by a dozen squares of dirt spread equally from one another, and on each square was a Cherry tree. Their petals fell gracefully on the ground.

Then a small dog came along and took a piss on one of the trees. Its master, a cranky old Volus woman, called it back to her side with a digital whistle mounted on her mask.

"Huh. I wonder how Hwang's customers would react if they saw this." commented Garrus. He looked at Walker, who was walking besides him. "Incidentally, how was your _tea_?"

"...I'm certain Hwang has the petals washed thoroughly."

"Yeah, you _hope._" Garrus looked up at the 'sky'. Kithoi's opposing ward blocked Widow's light, casting a shadow on everything. The faint glow coming from the Serpent Nebula bathed everything in a blue gloom. It would be hours before the Citadel's slow, ponderous spin would let Widow's light shine on Kithoi again. Garrus looked back at the Spinner with Jensen waiting inside, his fingers tapping on the analog wheel.

Walker took the time to scan each tree, and managed to find one that had some of its branches recently cut. She cross-referenced the tiny stumps to the branches found in Shepard's room. Perfect match.

"Interesting...these trees are only a few years old, dendrochronologically speaking ...but the trunks are thick enough to be a least forty. It seems Nielsen has altered those trees for accelerated growth. The petals no doubt bloom and fall at an accelerated frequency, allowing for a near constant supply."

"Why even bother?" asked Garrus.

"Well, cherry blossoms contain Coumarin, which has mild euphoric effects on both Asari and Elcor. Could be she planned to start her own little drug trade."

"_Coo mar ayn..._"Garrus mangled the pronunciation of the word. "...is _definitely_ not on the controlled substances list, I'd have remembered _that_ tongue twister."

"And it probably never will be, which is no doubt why Nielsen accepted Hwang's deal. More money to be had _and_ it's legal."

_**~[h+]~**_

On the elevator ride to the penthouse floor, Walker couldn't help herself and ask Vakarian a question. "So, you and Jensen are the same rank, correct?"

"We're both Sergeants, yes."

"But you've been on the force longer than he has?"

"I got one year's seniority over him. Are you going anywhere with this?"

"Well, when Jensen decided to keep quiet and you began to protest, you pretty much lost your nerve when he insisted on your silence as well. I might have understood if he was your direct superior, but he-"

"Look, if you're trying to drive a wedge between me and him, save your breath. I know the Alliance has wet dreams about offering up Jensen bound and gagged to a cult of terrorists. If you think I'm going to help you in that endeavor, you've got another thing coming."

"But surely, his disregard for the law back there must...bother you, on some level?"

"...It's not about the law. It was never about the law, not for us."

"Then what is it about for you, Mister Vakarian?"

"...It's about keeping people safe from the monsters in the dark."

The elevator doors opened with a chime, and Garrus was the first to step out, his footfalls absorbed by the thin red carpet that covered the hallway floor.

"It's just that Jensen is more comfortable in the dark than I am."

_**~[h+]~**_

Walker and Vakarian stood in front of Penthouse suite's door. Behind it lay the suspect, if not the killer. The plan was for Sarah to pretend to be a C-Sec investigator (under the treaty of Aken, she could do that) and occupy Nielsen with a drawn out interrogation. In the meantime, Garrus would excuse himself to the bathroom and discreetly plant several bugs (provided by Walker) around the apartment. If Nielsen's alibis and statements held up to scrutiny, then they would simply leave and stake her out. If Walker became completely convinced of Nielsen's guilt, then they would call in a Special Response Squad.

Of course, the plan depended on Nielsen actually answering the door.

Which she didn't.

"Ms Nielsen?" called out Walker as she pressed the door chime on the thick secure door. "Are you there?"

No answer.

"You know, It occurs to me that we should have checked if she was in, maybe give her a phone call?" quipped Garrus.

"I'm not in the habit of warning people I'm coming."

"... Yeah, I'll bet you're not. Well she obviously isn't home. Now what?"

"Plan B. We break in, plant the bugs and look through her stuff." She casually activated her Omni-Tool and started hacking the lock. "Before you ask-"

"I know, I know. Treaty of Aken." Garrus was silent for a while, waiting for Walker to finish unlocking the door. Still, he felt at that moment that it was his turn to ask a question. "So why do you dislike Jensen so much?"

"What makes you think I dislike him?"

"Well you weren't exactly pleasant back there."

"...Alright then: I think he's an outdated fossil with an even more outdated and extremely sexist sense of morality."

"...He might be technologically behind the curve a little, but you have to admit, he's pretty capable."

"There's _nothing_ Jensen can do that I can't wearing an advanced enough hard-suit."

"...You're jealous! For some reason you think Jensen and you are rivals somehow..." And then, something clicked inside Garrus' head. "You're an augment, aren't you? Some kind of Alliance experiment grown in a vat!"

Walker glared at him for a moment, then got back to picking the lock. "...If you're trying to get me to admit something while Jensen is standing besides me cloaked, save your breath."

On cue, Jensen decloaked besides Walker, leaning casually on the wall near the door. Walker was not amused. "I told you to stay in the car," she said.

"Well, I figured I'd keep an eye on you cloaked. Same difference."

"And you didn't think we'd spot the indentations your feet make on the carpet?" Walker said as the door unlocked.

Jensen shrugged. "And you didn't count on Nielsen not being in tonight. I guess we're all just a bunch of failures today."

The door opened, and the trio peered in. Tens of thousands of clumps of glowing crystalline snowflakes floated out of the door in a gust of wind. Garrus breathed some of the pollen in and sneezed.

"You might want to put your helmet on," Walker warned Vakarian. "Snowblind particles at those concentrations can be toxic, especially to turians."

Garrus silently complied and pressed a switch on this collar. Strips of programmable matter latched on his head, tucking his quills in, then sheets of metal and ceramic assembled themselves around his head, completely covering it. Meanwhile, Jensen put on his headset and called in the situation. He hoped the pollen that made its way into the hallway wasn't enough to jam his call. After all, Snowblind particles only disrupted communications if you tried to transmit inside a cloud of the stuff, or so he had heard.

"Kithoi Dispatch this is Detective Jensen, Detective Vakarian and I are investigating a concentration of Snowblind particles at Elyse Apartments, Building B's Penthouse suite, over."

The static lasted only a moment: "_...Message received._" droned a voice. It sounded almost bored. "_Do you...Need...Assistance?_" Jensen figured that Kithoi Dispatch patched him through to an Elcor operator or something.

"Maybe. Can you spare a couple of police cruisers as backup?"

_"...No."_

"Damn. Busy night, Dispatch?"

_"...Yesssss...vErY...BusY."_

Jensen's eyes widened. That did not sound good. Not good at all.

_"yOu...aRe...aLL...__**AloNE**__." _Jensen's ear was drowned in static, and then suddenly all the lights on the level shut down.

"Aaaah crap." said Vakarian through the speakers in his helmet. "This is not a good thing, is it? Jensen, when is that backup coming?"

"It's not! My comm is jammed and hijacked!"

Walker ran to the elevator, trying to summon it. "It's not responding." She tried prying the double doors open, but to no avail. Jensen tried to do the same, but stopped when he smelled the scent of burning plastic. "It's fused. Someone lined the door with soldering gel and switched it on when we came in."

"Ditto for the door to the stairs!" confirmed Garrus as he tried to open the door. "It's gotta be Nielsen's doing, she knew we were coming!"

"The door to the apartment is still open, though..." said Walker as she drew out her pistol. "Any of you get the feeling we're being railroaded into an unpleasant situation?"

Jensen drew the Cerebus pistol from its holster, keeping Sasha on standby. "We won't be able to call for help unless we take out the comm jammer. That apartment is as good as any place to look for it." Jensen double-checked his ammo and loaded a concussion round. "You ready?"

Garrus pulled out his Mongoose. "Always."

_**~[h+]~**_

The penthouse suite was a two story luxury residence, with white walls and a white carpet and frosted glass partitions framed in glass steel, all done in a Neo Art Nouveau style. Everything had a film of sparkling Snowblind pollen on it. Jensen attempted to scan everything with his Smart Vision, but all he got was error messages. Snowblind played havoc on any kind of sensor, including his internal radar. Thankfully, they didn't jam his normal vision.

The living room reminded Jensen of Hein's quarters, but while Hein's 'museum' pieces were bits and pieces of technological antiques, Nielsen's tastes lay in the somewhat macabre. Everything from the sculptures to the paintings we bound together by two central themes: Death and suffering. The only exception to the themes was the life-size porcelain statue of a naked woman sitting in a fetal position on a pedestal, its face covered by its knees. The fact that it was almost completely dark save from the Serpent's Nebula's gloom coming through the darkened glass made Nielsen's living room just that much more unsettling even with Jensen and Garrus' light amplifications turned on.

"I see this is how she spent her earnings from Hwang's deal." commented Walker. She shone an Omni-light on three paintings that caught her eye. They were all about a bearded man being beheaded in his bed by two women, one elderly, the other young. "The beheading of Holofernes. Caravaggio's, Trophime Bigot's and Artemisia Gentilesci's. Fake Originals, all three of them."

"Fake Originals?" asked Jensen, a bit confused. "You mean plain fakes."

"Not quite: Fake Originals are _perfect _imitations of the real thing, down to every brush stroke and every pigment. They are sold for a pretty penny, though not even for a tenth of what the original is worth."

"You're seeing a pattern, here, Jensen?" asked Garrus, nervous.

"Death, death and more death?" answered Jensen.

"No, no, I mean, the man getting his head cut-off...he kinda looks like _you._"

"...Let's just keep looking."

The second floor of the apartment was where Nielsen kept the bed, surrounded by a varied multitude of finely dressed porcelain dolls nailed the walls by like butterflies on display. They were all staring at the bed with eyes made out of black buttons. Walker was dead silent at this, and barely breathed.

"Nothing to say, Walker?" asked Jensen.

"I...I really _hate_ dolls." she said tersely.

"Well, after seeing this," said Garrus, a slight trembling in his voice. "I don't think I'll ever be able to look at one ever again either. _Spirits._"

A blinking red light caught Jensen's eyes. It was a phone, sitting on top of a commode. At the feet of the commode was a bundle of clothes: A white chemise, a red tie, a pinstripe business skirt meant to keep the legs nearly bare but cover the abdomen up to the solar plexus, and black lingerie. Jensen ignored the clothes and investigated the phone. It was still under power, no doubt thanks to an emergency battery. He switched it on, but all he got on the haptics was static.

"Damn, I was hoping for a landline." sighed Jensen.

Walker examined the phone more closely. "She would have cut it anyway...Hm, there's a message in the memory buffer." She pressed the play button, and Hwang's voice could be heard through the speakers. His speech was slurred, no doubt he had been hitting the bottle as soon as Jensen left.

_"Heeeey Diana!...Look, you've been, like, *hic* the best friend I could ever ask for so...here's a heads up: C-Sec's coming for you soon. They SAID *hic* you might be a killer but you know what? you know what?"_

_"Please, Rudy!" _It was the greeter's voice, pleading with Hwang._ "Don't do this, they're not going to out us!"_

_"Bullshit! I know his *hic* type!...goddamned knight in shining armor piece of...Where was I?...right, I DON'T BELIEVE THEM! So you run, Diana, you and I we're going to **-END OF MESSAGE.**"_

The three investigators were dead silent for a moment, then Garrus voiced what everyone was thinking:

"We're going to get out of here, and then we're going to kill Hwang. Slowly."

"Wait, be quiet!" commanded Walker. "I hear something..."

Adam strained his ears. "Yeah, I hear it too...Like an old man wheezing...It's coming from that walk-in closet. Vakarian, we're going to stack up on that sliding door. Walker, stay besides me and don't go in there until I give the all-clear."

Jensen and Vakarian took positions on each side of the sliding door, with Jensen crouching on one knee. "On three, we move in and clear. One, two, three!"

Vakarian slid the door open as Jensen simultaneously shifted into the doorway. He visually combed the entire closet, keep his gun level with his sight. The closet, as it turned out, was only half-stocked with clothes. Its walls were lined with extra-net articles of high profile deaths - accidents and suicides - printed out on digital paper and framed. They were all signed 'Diana'. Besides the pictures, the most noteworthy thing in the room was a plant, with thick roots wrapped around a glowing green cylinder and a stamen the size of a football that swelled and shriveled at even intervals. It was the source of the wheezing.

Jensen parted the clothes hanging on the rack, looking for anything or anyone that might be hiding in there. He noted various articles of clothing for men, and wondered if Nielsen had a live-in boyfriend. Satisfied that there was no one here, he called out to Walker.

"Walker, there's something here, some kind of plant."

Walker's eyes widened in shock as she walked and saw the plant.

"That's...a Snowblind generator! God, I didn't know they could make them so small."

Jensen pointed at the green glowing cylinder. "That's a...Bio-capacitor, right? Didn't think plants needed so much electricity..."

"The plant itself? No, but the Snowblind pollen require an electric charge in order to be able to jam communications and scanners. Unplugging the power source won't stop the plant from spreading the pollen, you'll have to-"

Jensen activated his arm sword and sliced off the plant's flower. It started to shrivel and die almost immediately.

"Well, that's one problem dealt with." said Jensen. "How long before we can call for help?"

"About ten hours, once the pollen that are already out discharge their electric charge and start to disintegrate."

Jensen groaned. "Let's keep looking around. Maybe there's a way out of here we haven't found yet."

"Fat luck of that happening," said Garrus. "This place was built for the rich and paranoid, and the glass is rated against aircar crashes."

The investigative trio moved back to the living room downstairs, and they all stopped in their tracks. Something was different. Different and _wrong._

"Guys," asked Garrus quietly. "...Where did that statue go?"

Walker shone a light on where the statue had been sitting. It was, indeed, gone. "That was Nielsen...I think you were right when you said she was some sort of Shape-shifter, Jensen. I couldn't tell her skin apart from real porcelain..."

Jensen cursed under his breath. "Damn, I had a bad feeling about that statue...Eyes peeled everyone, and whatever you do, don't split up!"

"Do you hear that?" asked Walker. Jensen boosted his hearing and could make out the din of a shower, echoing through ceramic tiles.

"Not again! Where's it coming from _now_?" groaned Garrus in frustration. Jensen could tell he was beginning to lose his cool: Turians were renowned for their bravery under fire...but in the dark, stalked by an invisible enemy? Turians were just as susceptible to fear as anyone else.

"It's the shower. Let's check it out." ordered Jensen.

They carefully walked past the kitchen area and made their way to the bathroom door. Jensen and Vakarian stacked up on it, opened it, and scanned the room within with their weapons, ready to shoot at anything hostile.

The bathroom was fairly large, with a central bathtub/shower combination encased in a frosted glass cylinder that went all the way up to the ceiling. Jensen opened its sliding door, but all he got for his trouble was a cloud of steam. There was no one there.

"Room's clear." said Jensen as he turned off the shower. With little else to do but be wary, Jensen started investigating the contents of the bathroom. The medicine cabinet yielded the most interesting items: there was a bottle of something called _Aglea_, and a bottle of sunscreen.

"_Aglea_ is an anti-aging product made by Sirta," said Walker. "It's useful for any evidence-conscious criminal: it absorbs dead skin cells."

"I'm just curious why Nielsen needs sunscreen around here." commented Garrus. "I know you humans are kind of sensitive to UV, but the nebula absorbs ninety-nine percent of Widow's UV light."

Something inside Jensen's head finally clicked. _Sunscreen._ _Neo Kobe._ _The Corporate Wars._

"Everyone, if you see Nielsen...shoot to kill, not to wound. Hold nothing back. We're not even bothering with an arrest."

Garrus was a bit confused. He didn't mind killing murderers, but Jensen always kept killing as a last resort. "Jensen?"

"Just trust me."

They left the bathroom, and all three of them froze at the sound of a faint laughter.

_"Mousey-Mousey-Mous-"_

Garrus fired his Mongoose at some unseen shape hiding in the kitchen's shadows.

"How do you like THAT you cowardly little BITCH?!" shouted Garrus victoriously as he fired a few more shots into the shadows. Jensen wasn't even certain he was hitting anything.

"Calm down!" ordered Jensen as he boosted his eyes' light amplification. "There's no one there!"

"Like hell there isn't! I know I hit her!"

"You did." said Walker as she shone her light at the spot Garrus had been shooting. There was a trail of blood that led back to the living room. The trio followed the trail carefully, wary of an ambush. The trail ended right at the pedestal, and Garrus cursed in frustration. Jensen wondered if there wasn't some kind of secret passage under the pedestal, some emergency escape Nielsen used to get away. He pushed the piece of white marble, and crouched, feeling the portion of the floor where the pedestal had been with his fingers.

"Damn."

"What are you looking for?" asked Walker.

"An air vent, maybe...no such lu-" suddenly, he heard a drop splattering on his left shoulder. Jensen looked at his coat: It was red blood. Jensen then looked up at the source...

And saw Nielsen staring back at him with an insane gleam in her glowing red eyes. Her naked body, with a skin matching the texture of the ceiling, was facing down, but her limbs were dislocated and her clawed, skinless hands and feet were buried up to the phalanges in the ceiling's concrete. Jensen fired at her head immediately, with Walker and Vakarian following suit.

Nielsen let out an ear-shattering shriek as she let go of the ceiling and leapt down on top of Jensen, knocking him down with the force of a battering ram. Nielsen straddled him, pounced on him with her claws, tore at his chest and face. Jensen tried to defend himself by catching her wrists, but she turned the tables on him and seized his arms and pinned him down, destroying the Cerebus pistol along the way. Her jaw dislocated itself and her mouth distented, and from within that teethed blackness a cylinder peered out. From within that cylinder came the sound of a whirring turbine engine and the orange glow of a particle beam charging up.

"Kill it! Kill it now!" screamed Walker. Don't let it fire!"

"I'm TRYING!" shouted Garrus in response.

Walker and Vakarian kept firing on Nielsen, but she ignored their gunfire even as her flesh was torn off bit by bit, revealing the cold, unyielding black metal within. Nielsen pressed her mouth against Jensen's, the particle charge reached its apex...

Walker seized Nielsen's skull with one hand on its crown and another on its jaw, and pulled, causing the thin stream of charged particles to cut a swath through the furniture and the polarized glass wall. Nielsen tried to force the beam back on Jensen's head, and she was succeeding.

"Vakarian! Help me!" Walker shouted, as she tried to get a better handle on Nielsen by getting her in a headlock. Garrus came to her side and grabbed Nielsen by the temples and pulled even harder, turning the energy beam further away from Jensen's head.

Walker soon regretted her actions, as Nielsen's particle gun's built up heat started bleeding into the skull and then into Walker's skin. She screamed in pain, but did not let go. Nielsen laughed maniacally, knowing that Walker's flesh would yield soon enough.

"Stab her in the chest! Stab her in the chest!" Walker screamed.

Vakarian let go and switched on his Omni-Blade application and buried the flash forged silicon-carbide blade into Nielsen's chest again and again, hoping to hit something vital. Eventually, he hit Nielsen's primary power source and beam fizzled out. Nielsen, in response, let go of Jensen's arms and quickly seized both Walker and Vakarian by their heads. Her grip cracked Garrus' helmet and Walker's skull, and she threw them, one after the other, in opposite parts of the apartment. Vakarian was the lucky one: his whole body slammed against the wall of Holofernes, and he lost consciousness as his Mongoose clattered on the floor. Walker, on the other hand, found herself thrown through the thick partition of frosted glass that separated the living room and the kitchen. The broken shards of glass tore into Walker's body, and her spine cracked when it impacted against a marble counter-top.

She was as good as dead.

Nielsen was just about to finish off Jensen when she felt his leg wrap itself around her head. Jensen brought his leg down, slamming Nielsen's skull against the hard floor. The tables were turned, and before long Jensen was on top of Nielsen, punching her skull in. It would not yield to his blows, and she quickly tried regain the advantage by wrapping her legs around Jensen's abdomen and squeeze the life of out of him.

"Die! Die, goddamn you! DIE!" Jensen screamed in frustration. Fueled by adrenaline, rage, and now panic, he activated his arms swords and stabbed at Nielsen's neck, and her response was to screech in ecstasy. She flailed her arms uselessly, occasionally nicking Jensen's face with her claws, but she eventually stopped moving. Jensen, still running on fury, twisted off her head, snapping off a metallic spine and multitude of electric cables and fluid-filled tubes that spilled their contents on the floor. Nielsen's legs went limp, freeing Jensen from their grasp.

_**"yOu...wILL...nEveR...fo-fo-forGEt...meeeee**eeeee.**..." **_said the disembodied head with a grin as the red light in its eyes faded into pools of dead black.

It was over.

Jensen breathed in hard, realizing that he had been holding his breath the entire time he was mauling Nielsen. Her head was still in his hand, and he reached in her mouth to tear out that damned particle gun, just to be sure. Then, he discarded the accursed thing, and leaned back into the floor, breathing even harder, trying to regain his composure.

Someone coughed and sneezed. It was Garrus, laying prone on the ground by the paintings. Jensen got up and hurried to his partner: his faceplate was broken, and he was breathing in the Snowblind that had been kicked up in the fight.

"Wha...Jensen?...Spirits, did...did we win?" Garrus managed to say through his labored breath Jensen propped him up and sat him up against the wall, and quickly sealed the breach by slapping Omni-Gel on the ruined helmet.

"Yeah, we did. It's over."

"Oh, Spirits! What in the hells was that, Jensen?! That...that thing!..."

"A Bioroid." answered Jensen, as he double-checked Garrus' filters. Satisfied they were intact, Jensen took out a hypo of Panacea and inserted in the Agent I's medical injection port.

"You...you knew?!"

"...I suspected. Nielsen's a newer model, I had no idea what she... what _it_ was capable of. Never mind that, she's dead. How about you? You think you're going to be alright? I still got some Medi-Gel if you need it." Jensen cursed the Snowblind particles hanging in the air. With them around he couldn't check for internal bleeding with his Omni-Tool. Not until ten hours.

"...I think I'll be fine. What about Walker? I th-" he coughed "...I think I heard her crash through glass?"

"...I think she's dead."

"Maybe...maybe not." Garrus coughed again. "Maybe you should...check. You owe it to her...she saved your..." and then, Garrus stopped talking.

"Vakarian?...Garrus?..." Jensen panicked silently for a moment at the thought of losing his partner after all these years, and kept his finger on his friend's pulse, making sure it stayed stable. After a minute, Jensen breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive, though how long he would stay that way, he had no idea.

Following Garrus' suggestion, Jensen made his way to the kitchen, where Sarah lay unmoving in a pool of her own blood. Jensen grunted and held his sides all the way there: Nielsen had bruised his kidneys and cracked several ribs, and his Sentinel System was slow in repairing the damage. His energy reserves reported they were at five percent capacity; he had spent far too much energy trying to destroy Nielsen's skull and he wouldn't quite have enough to repair all of his internal damage. Three days of sleep deprivation finally caught up to him, and he stumbled a bit. Despite all that, he had no right to complain at the moment: The pool of blood around Sarah was simply too big, her body was riddled with glass and her neck bent awkwardly. There was simply no hope for her.

Her neck snapped back into place, and she gasped. Jensen pulled out Sasha and aimed it at her head, terrified at the thought that he had beaten one Bioroid only to have to deal with another. He pulled back Sasha's hammer, and took aim. Sarah stared at him, her look confused and almost...pleading.

_She saved your life, _he reminded himself. He put his weapon away, and knelt besides her, his pants soaking in her blood. She tried to get up, weakly moving her legs and arms, and confirming to Jensen that the damage to her spine was gone. she only managed to turn herself and lay on her back.

"Easy..." soothed Jensen. "Stay still...you lost a lot of blood."

"P-pull out...the glass..." she begged, her voice weak.

"If I do that-"

"I can't mend...if something...is in the way."

Jensen pulled one of the pieces buried in one of the less vital areas, and Sarah's flesh began to mend immediately. Jensen quickly proceeded to remove every shard he could find. When he was done, Sarah's skin became perfect again, with nary a scar, or even a burn, to mar her beauty.

"...What kind of gene-mods are those?"

"Not...Gene-mods."

"Are you augmented? Is this new type of Sentinel system?" he asked.

"...No," she answered again, weakly. "It's not...augmentation...if you're built that way from the beginning."

"Built?"

"...You ask...too many...goddamned...questions..." she started shivering uncontrollably. Jensen touched her wrist, taking her pulse. Her skin was cold to the touch, and her pulse was weak. He took off his leather coat and wrapped it around her body, then he sat down next to her and held her close, letting the heat from his body warm her. _My god, her skin is like ice, _Jensen thought as he suppressed his shiver.

"Don't you...dare...coddle me." she protested weakly through chattering teeth.

"Be quiet." he said as he pulled Sasha from his holster. He flicked his wrist, opening the gun. He double-checked the ammo, and flicked his wrist again to close the gun. Ten hours. He had to keep watch over his two partners for ten hours until the charge in the Snowblind pollen dissipated and he could call for help. Just ten, goddamned hours before he could leave this accursed place.

If another Bioroid came, Jensen wasn't certain six of Amnon's special .357s would be good enough to take it down...but that was fine.

All he would need were three.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: FICTION: BIOROID<p>

_A constant in the popular modern-day Biopunk science fiction genre, a bioroid (sometimes called a replicant) is essentially a biological robot designed to be an indistinguishable imitation of a living creature, usually a sentient. Fundamentally different from clones, they are used as a clumsy storytelling device by authors to conjure up philosophical questions about existence, although they never provide answers._

_In 'real life', Bioroids are a theoretical construct, the subject of a paper written by Dr Drago Pettrovich Madnar (of the Terran European Union) in 2024 on the subject of bypassing the Uncanny Valley entirely by grafting biological parts on a robot. Absolutely nothing came of his theories or research._

CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: EARTH: MILITARY: SNOWBLIND PARTICLES

_The successor to the Snow-9 Comm jammer, the Snowblind particle is a__crystalline form of pollen produced by a bio-engineered plant. Developed for use by Earth's various military organizations, they disrupt nearly all wireless transmissions and sensors (save for visual ones).__Smaller than ordinary pollen, Snowblind particles only become visible to the naked eye when local concentrations become high, and appear similar to glowing snowflakes, hence the name._

_Snowblind was first encountered by the Council at the Battle of Shanxi. Admiral Yan Lo, who led the small Shadow Fleet, deployed and detonated several bombs laced with Snowblind in the middle of the Turian fleet, causing crippling chaos in the turian chain of command. The disabled sensors meant that Kinetic Barriers were unable to react to the attacks from the bombers and frigates of the much smaller Coalition fleet. Defenseless and unable to fire back, The turian fleet at Shanxi lost over a third of its ships before it could recover from the Snowblind attack. _

_Imrec (image recognition) and laser communications technologies were developed by the salarians to counter the electronic warfare threat posed by Snowblind, and turians are investing heavily in stronger ship (and hardsuit) armor to make up for temporarily ineffective kinetic barriers, with moderately successful results. Attempts to replicate the pollen have so far not been successful._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: <span>DONT WORRY, GARRUS WILL BE FINE. <span>**_

_**And that's the end of the Shepard's Killer Arc. Soon, Jensen will begin the hunt for Saren in...maybe three chapters? I'm not sure yet. I will write a short flashback chapter detailing how Jensen knows about Bioroids.**_

_**Spherification is an actual thing, a technique devised by molecular gastronomers. What is molecular gastronomy? It's basically cooking, only with SCIENCE!**_


	18. Interlude 1: Memories of Neo Kobe

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Interlude 1: Memories of Neo Kobe**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tuesday, December 21, 2027 - Neo Kobe - Airport 7:40 PM<strong>_

Adam Jensen went past the crowded baggage cart and looked for his driver at Arrivals. Eventually, he found a dirty-blonde occidental holding up a sign with Adam's name written on it with a black marker. The man holding the sign was wearing a somewhat classical gumshoe getup with a brown trench coat over a white button shirt, black slacks and black shoes all brought together by a slightly eyecatching blue tie. It was probably Adam's CIA contact, and as he approached him he realized the agent had some striking green eyes.

"Hey there," greeted the man in the brown coat. "So, how was the in-flight entertainment?"

"I watched some eyestrain inducing cartoon based on the Count of Monte-Cristo." answered Jensen flatly. He was lying, of course. He had just listened to some music.

"And the meal? Did you take the chicken, like I told you, or the fish?"

"Neither, I picked the omelette," answered Jensen. The man smiled, content that Adam had succeeded the vocal challenge and held out his hand. Jensen shook it.

"Julian Seed." he said.

"Adam Jensen."

"Yep, I know who you are...This is usually the part where I tell you that I expected you to be taller...but damn, you really are a tall fella, aren't you?"

Adam wasn't quite in the mood for idle conversation. "Let's get this over with."

"Right to business, huh? My car's right outside once we're done with customs"

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Highway 001 - 8:22 PM**_

"Ahh...I love driving." said Julian as he drove the car into the tunnel. "The whole world just passes you by quietly in a cozy, warm little cabin. I do a lot good thinking like this..."

"It's also a good way to have a private conversation with no one eavesdropping," commented Jensen.

"Yeah...that too." Julian eyed his side and rear view mirrors, ensuring that they weren't being followed. While he did so, the car exited the Tunnel, and Jensen had a wonderful view of the wintry Neo Kobe skyline from his passenger seat. Festive lights glittered in the dark of night, and before long the lights became OLED signs reminding every passerby of the impending festivities and that they should really buying those Christmas presents right about now.

Neo Kobe. A city of half a million ethnically diverse citizens built on an artificial island. Somewhat incorrectly called japan's answer to Dubai and Hengsha, it was actually a grand social experiment. Japan, after suffering a major population implosion, decided that it would open its borders to immigration. The government, however, was extremely wary of the unrest that culture clash would cause, and Neo Kobe was created as a sort of "training ground" for the politicians and bureaucrats of the future Japanese government. The boost to the ailing Japanese economy was a nice bonus.

Julian, content that nobody was following them, asked Jensen to open the glove compartment. "You'll find a gun and a dossier in there. Take them."

The gun was an 8-shot Diamondback .357 revolver modified to handle explosive ammunition, along with some spare ammo. The dossier was mostly pictures of a white blonde haired woman at the waiting area of some kind of bank, getting more and more agitated and violent,. The last few images had her kill a desk clerk with her bare hands, then she tore off the flesh off of her own face, revealing...metal, before a squad of soldiers perforated her with holes.

"Two weeks ago at the United States' Neo Kobe embassy," Julian explained. "a woman named Lisa Cunningham came in to renew her passport. As you can see, it didn't turn out very well."

"...So, basically, a cyborg went nuts?"

"That wasn't a cyborg, at least not in the way you mean. It's an infiltration Bioroid: its brain was completely electronic. "

"Sounds more like a Terminator."

"Heh, yeah. Same concept: meat over metal...minus the austrian accent. Seriously though, up until she started going nuts nobody thought there was anything wrong with her at all: her speech was fine, her expression was fine...she was a perfect imitation of a human being."

"How'd she get past the metal detector?"

"Said she had Vrolik's Syndrome and had her bones reinforced with titanium. The guard didn't find a gun on her, so he let her through. Anyways, the NSA had their techs went over her remains: near as they can tell, all of it looks like a new generation of robotics and electronics developed by Volkov Cybernetics. Naturally, Volkov denied making the thing, but we at the CIA weren't exactly convinced. We sent a few agents in their headquarters in Novosibirsk...when they came back, they claimed that they found nothing."

"...You tested them, right? Made sure they were who they said they were?"

"Ha! They said you were a clever boy! Yeah, we did. And wouldn't you know it? They went nuts and tried to kill their handlers. Thankfully, we were prepared. Funny thing is...you know what really gave them away? Their skin tones...They were a bit paler than when they were dispatched, and they stank of sunscreen. We had their skin analyzed, and you know what we found out? That artificial skin of theirs can't stand the sunlight: they start developing melanoma if they stay exposed to UV radiation too long.

"I'd say that you got your proof right there."

"You'd think, but there are too many points at which these agents could have been snatched. We _believe_, we _suspect_, but we don't know that Volkov is behind it all.

"So what do you want from me?"

"The _Matryoshka_, a Volkov cargo ship, is due to arrive here tomorrow at noon. Since it is transmitting the proper codes and without proof we can't convince the JMSDF to stop or even sink the boat. Once it makes port, you're going to infiltrate it and find any evidence that will let us finger Volkov. If you succeed, th-"

"-then the CIA will be very very grateful to Sarif Industries, and if I get caught SI gets blamed for corporate espionage. I know the score." Jensen didn't show it, but he was unnerved by the thought of him being replaced by an insane doppelganger, which was a likely possibility.

"Well, that's the briefing. You can find all the intel you'll need in the folder. And keep the gun: that thing's the only thing that can punch through a Bioroid's skull."

"I'd rather have an armour piercing Zenith: their 10mm Auto rounds pack a better punch than .357s and with a silencer on I won't alert the whole damned ship."

"True, but the main processor in the skull is the only reliable way to take them down, and its a pretty small target. That high explosive they pack in those special .357s pretty much guarantees the thing's brains are going to get junked. Trust me, that Diamondback will do the trick. Hey, you hungry?"

"Yeah, the in-flight meal wasn't...substantial."

"Haha! I'll just bet! I heard you cyborgs had healthy appetites! Hey, there's this thing you have GOT to try..."

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Plato's Market - Food Stand 8:52 PM**_

"Alright, my man! Two Neo Kobe Pizzas!" Julian cheerfully ordered.

"Coming right up!" answered the cook. He served up, much to Jensen's confusion, two slices of pepperoni pizza along with two big bowls of miso soup. "You gotta drop it in the soup yourself, okay?"

"You folks dip your pizzas in soup around here?"

"Yep!" answered Julian as he dropped his slice in his bowl, keeping the slice down with a pair of chopsticks. Jensen imitated him, having no experience in eating the local dish. "Don't soak in too much soup, or it'll get bland and soggy."

After a while, both Julian and Jensen took their pizzas out of their soups, and damn it, Jensen had to admit, the thing was actually pretty tasty. He ordered two more slices along with a cola, and drank up the rest of the soup straight from the bowl.

"Pretty good, right?" Julian asked with a smile.

"Yeah...who came up with this?"

"No idea. But that kind of mixed cooking is pretty common around here: the Neo Kobe government gives subsidies to restaurants that combine foods from different ethnic groups together."

"Why?"

"To help prevent segregation. The Japanese government studied the problem of clashing cultures in a population, and one of the criticisms they leveled against the West is letting ethnic groups self-segregate."

"Hm. Last I checked the Japanese weren't exactly keen on foreigners themselves."

"They can't afford that attitude, not anymore. The population of _Yamatos_ has dipped thirty percent in the last decade or so due in no small part to disease, natural disasters, emigration and well, a general disinterest in fucking. Thirty percent of the remaining population is made up of the elderly...and only twenty percent are kids...The future looks bleak, and Prime Minister Asami sees the writing on the wall. He's looking to create a hybrid culture in Neo Kobe by making sure the immigrants mingle and mix with each other as much as possible...But ah man, listen to me go on. How do you like your pizza with a scoopful of politics, eh? " Julian laughed good-naturedly.

"Sounds like you really admire what this Asami is doing with the place. You've been living here long?"

"Hold on..." Julian finished his soup, and patted his stomach, satisfied. "Moved out here with my family abouuuut... three years, now. Gotta say, I love the place! There's an energy here you just don't get in Hengsha, you know? Hengsha's got that gloomy, oppressive feeling when you live in the ground level, and that sterile, brave-new-world atmosphere on top."

Having been to Hengsha himself, Jensen couldn't help but to agree with the man.

"Now then," said Julian as he paid his share of the bill. "Let's get you a room for the night. You got a big day tomorrow!"

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Wednesday, December 22nd - Elysium Hotel - Room 108 - 8:12 AM**_

Jensen, surly at being woken up as he had only managed to go to sleep some four hours ago, answered the pestering, ringing, _damnable_ phone.

"Hello?"

"Jensen?" asked the voice of Julian Seed. "We have a problem."

"What is it?"

"The _Matryoshka_ docked early, and the people we bribed to stonewall the crew, well, they got a better offer. They unloaded their cargo in one of the port's warehouses. Place was rented by some doctor named Chin Shu Oh to store some ah, '_medical supplies'._"

"So what do I do now?"

"WE are going to check the warehouse out."

"We? You're coming with me?"

"Yep. I figured you could use someone watching your back. Besides, I'm not the mission control type."

"...I thought the CIA wanted plausible deniability. If you get caught-"

"Caught where, exactly? Some storage shed Volkov doesn't even own? The FSB can't bitch at us for violating the privacy of one of a Russian company if said company is doing clandestine shit. Clean yourself up, it's showtime!"

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Underground Volkov facility - 12:27 PM**_

Julian and Jensen had snuck and fought their way into the heart of the complex, and this is what they found: rows and rows of pods overlooking a pit nine stories deep. Some of the pods were for storage, others where meant to grow the artificial skin these Bioroids needed to pass for human straight onto their endo structure. There were so many of them...Hundreds, maybe thousands of them, and the machines inside them were, thankfully, all asleep.

"Jesus..." said Julian. "There's a whole army of them...hey wait! Is that...Is that Mayor Hojo? and Prime Minister Asami?!"

"And most of these skins are shaped to resemble Asians - It's obvious Volkov wants to control the Japanese government...But that's just a means to an end. Why?"

"I'm guessing the Russians want in on Japan's newfound economic growth...and then you got Tokugawa Heavy Industries. Having the Prime Minister as a puppet just handing Volkov defensive contracts, their competition is pretty much screwed! You taking snapshots of this?"

Jensen pointed at his eyes. "Yeah. But we're going to need something more substantial if we're going to put the finger on Volkov. Let's-" Jensen's eyes widened under as red blips appeared all over his radar. "Aw crap."

"What?" asked Julian. His answer came in the form of more security spiders coming through the vents. "Aw, not more of these blasted things! Shoot them!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"CAPTURE HIM, MY CHILDREN!" screamed Madnar from his life-support throne. "DESTROY THE TRAITOR, AND BRING ME THE FLESH OF ADAM JENSEN! BRING IT TO MEEEEE!"

"Jensen..." groaned Julian. "Leave me behind...You don't have time, the self-destruct..."

"Like hell." Jensen was carrying Julian on his back, shooting every naked Bioroid standing in his way with his Diamondback. He had saved Jensen's life when it would have been so much easier to do nothing, and Jensen did not leave a debt like that unpaid. "We're going to make it." He said as he destroyed the electronic brains of yet another Bioroid as it attempted to shoot him with its Needler Skull-gun. "We're going to make it..."

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Neo Kobe docks - 13:57 PM**_

The warehouse exploded far behind him, and thus Jensen and Seed had succeeded in stopping the aspirations of a madman. Jensen set Julian down, and stared at the blaze...he could hear the anguished screams of a thousand artificial children, who had known nothing but the quiet blackness of sleep, now awakened by the burning agony of fire. Some of the Bioroids shambled out as their cancerous flesh burned off, and they fell as their circuits gave out under the heat of the flames. The sights, sounds and smells of this inferno would haunt Jensen's dreams for a long time...of that, he was certain.

"I'm...sorry," Julian groaned behind Jensen. He knelt besides his partner, and checked his damage. The Connaught rifle's green bloom had slagged his knee, burnt a hole in his chest, and burnt off the left side of his face, revealing the molten, dull gray metal. "I...I didn't know, Jensen!...I didn't even know I was leading you into a trap!"

"...It's okay. I'll get you to Sarif Industries..." Jensen held Julian's hand "We'll fix you."

Julian choked out a laugh. "Liar...Heh, we both know what's going to happen...to me if-if-if Sarif gets his hands on me. No...No, this is better." Julian weakly led Jensen's hand to his chest. "Left...Pocket."

Jensen reached into the coat and pulled out a wallet. Inside was a picture, Julian's family: A beautiful, brown-haired woman, a young boy and Julian, all smiling happily. "Make sure... they're looked after, okay? I...I..."

"I will. Don't you worry."

"Oh god, Jensen...I can feel something burning in the back of my head...Madnar's voice, screaming at me to kill you!..."

"You had your chance...Why didn't you take it?"

"I-I don't know...something...Something started whispering to me ever since I met you...Something...beautiful...so faint...it's... so loud now...you have no idea...how..." Tears flowed from Julian's remaining tearduct, and his eyes widened briefly as the green light left the Bioroid's eyes. His face went slack. Julian was no more.

Jensen could hear sirens off in the distance. He activated his cloak, and ran away as fast as he could.

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Thursday, December 23rd - Unknown facility - 2:12 AM**_

Jensen hated those EMP shackle chairs, but Hans Decker had wanted to make sure Jensen was still (mostly) human. A black woman with cold gray artificial eyes sat in the corner of the dark room and stared at Jensen the whole time Decker interrogated him. After a few hours, she simply said. "He believes what he says is true."

Decker, at this, pulled out a remote and deactivated the chair, freeing Jensen from its grasp. He motioned Jensen to sit at the table, and offered him a glass of water and a cyberboost bar. Jensen sat down, downed his so-called meal in a few seconds, and finally took the opportunity to ask a question, for once.

"Did you check on Julian's family?" he asked the brown suited G-man as the gray eyed woman left the room.

Decker chuckled at that. "Really? the first thing you ask me about is how your betrayer's family is doing?" he sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "You know, _this_ is what keeps me wondering how come you're still alive. That kind of bleeding heart? It's not a survival trait in the spy business. And yet, here you are, alive and well after going balls deep in Tai Yong's dirty laundry. I'm impressed."

"My augs make up for the...handicap."

"No. No they don't." Decker smiled. "In any case, we checked on Julian's family. We found them..."

"Good."

"...buried alive. There were three corpses locked in the basement, one picked clean of flesh - the real Julian's - and two others, a boy and a woman, still rotting. Julian's cause of death was obvious: his skull had been crushed. As for his wife and child, well..." Decker scratched his nose, and continued. "They died months ago. As far as we can tell, the house had been lived in quite recently. What does that tell you, hm?"

Jensen became sullen at this.

"Oh do cheer up, Mister Jensen!" exclaimed Decker, disingenuously. "You stopped a plot to subvert an entire nation! You should be proud. And while you didn't quite get the evidence we required to take all of Volkov out legally, your report and recordings will be more than enough motivations for my superiors to order a raid of Volkov's assets in America. As per our deal, Sarif will be getting a fair share of the spoils, and as for you..." He handed Jensen a dossier. "we brought you one step closer to your _Dulcinea_."

Jensen opened the file, and inside were a dozen pictures of Megan Reed, dressed in a black coat and with her hair down, disembarking from the_ Matryoshka _with two pale skinned bodyguards flanking her.

_You've lost her, Jensen!...Men like us...we never get back the things we love..._

"Is she...is she here?"

"I'm afraid not. Those pictures were taken in Vladivostok weeks ago and she hasn't boarded the vessel ever since she left it. As far as we can tell, she vanished into thin air." Decker got up to leave. "You're welcome to go look for her there, if you like. But I'm afraid her trail has gone cold. Your pilot friend is waiting for you at your hotel. Have a nice flight, Mister Jensen." He opened the door, stopped for a moment. "By the by, do try and keep in touch. Our deal is not over yet and we might need your talents very soon." And with that, Decker left Jensen alone to ponder his next move.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: EARTH: 21st CENTURY: CORPORATE WARS.<p>

_Shortly after the Panchaea incident turned public opinion against human augmentation, biotech companies found the civilian market for biomodification nearly all dried up, leaving them with only government contracts as viable revenue. With only so many of those to go around, each of the corporations heavily or exclusively invested in biotech started a campaign of espionage and sabotage against their competition. Eventually, the sabotage escalated to hostilities, with one company hiring mercenaries to cause irreparable damage to another. This culminated in early 2029 with the release of a bio weapon developed by Parasol Labs into the population of Macon, Georgia. Over a hundred thousand civilians died, causing a public scandal._

_When the dust had settled, only three companies involved in the conflict remained: Tokugawa Heavy Industries, Versalife, and Sarif Industries. SI received most of the public's ire, and the company folded shortly after. Little did anyone at the time know, Sarif had himself and a portion of his personel preserved and technology in an old Cold War nuclear shelter. _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: And that's the interlude done with, folks...sorry if it was a bit small and rushed, but I wanted to get back to the main storyline. Up next we'll be going back to the future, in which Jensen will find himself roped into saving another damsel in distress.<strong>_


	19. Chapter 16: Settling old accounts

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 16: Settling old accounts**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The new voice cast thus far:<strong>_

_**Alliance Intel Agent: Matt Bomer (voice AND appearance)**_

_**Richard Grey: Alec Baldwin **_

_**Aki Ross: Ming-Na Wen**_

_**Neil Flemming: Steve Buscemi**_

_**Ryan Whitaker: Terry Crews **_

_**Aya Brea: Yvonne Strahovski**_

_**Fahl: Jennifer Hale**_

_**Aleph: Richard Madden**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a dark, circular room barely lit by strips of OLEDs mounted on the ceiling, Octavian Adolfas Pallin was being given the rare honor of a private audience with the three representatives the major powers of the galaxy. The three of them sat some distance away from him at a regal silver desk, while he sat at a glossy black table at the controls of a holographic presentation detailing the thorough examination of the remains of Diana Nielsen, the thing responsible for the deaths of Junko Zayne Shepard, Kaidan Alenko, and probably countless others dismissed as 'accidents'.<p>

"The endo-skeleton is designed to adjust its size. The range is limited, and we believe Nielsen couldn't impersonate anyone below one meter fifty or above one meter eighty in size. Strips of bucky gel at the joints provides most of the synthetic's motor power - the muscles, along with other organs, are there mostly to add to the illusion."

"Any armaments?" asked Sparatus.

"It is armed with retractable mono-molecular edge claws mounted in the fingers," recited Pallin, "and a collapsible continuous particle beam gun in the mouth, hidden just under where the brain should be. The power for that comes from a small power plant mounted inside the chest. As for defense...the bulletproof metal has been alloyed with element zero, any biotic attack against it causes the metal to resonate sympathetically with the biotic field, making it disperse harmlessly over the synthetic's frame."

Valern could barely contain his surprise. "That...impossible. The Salarian Union's metallurgists have tried to create Element Zero-based alloys for centuries. It can't be done."

"And yet," said Sparatus, "here it is. _We_ may not be able to do it, but the Geth might. Look at the curves on the skeleton, it resembles what we've seen of their design philosophies thus far."

"Perhaps," agreed Tevos. "What have your technicians been able to glean about its programming?" she asked Pallin.

"The synthetic wiped its databanks clean. What my techs have been able to tell about the processor is that its structure is unstable. They estimate that any AI designed to simulate a sentient running on the hardware would begin to degrade and exhibit aberrant behaviour within four or five years."

"I'm curious about the skin." asked Valern. "You said it was designed for camouflage?"

"According to Jensen's report, the synthetic's skin matched the texture of a cement ceiling as well as polished porcelain perfectly. We believe it could also alter its appearance completely: the synthetic hairs can apparently change their color, as well. The skin isn't perfect: It is two hundred percent more susceptible to UV radiation and exposure to Medi-Gel causes it to develop tumors. I hope now that you understand why I insisted on scanning you with my Omni-Tool. According to Jensen, machines similar to this, though far less advanced, were used in a corporation's plot to subvert one of Earth's governments a century ago."

"A wise decision," commented Valern. "One can never be too careful...perhaps we should begin to screen our administration medically?"

"Do you believe that there are more of these...Bioroids in the Citadel?" asked Tevos uncomfortably.

"...I honestly don't know. It could have been a single assassination asset, or part of a larger plot to take over the Citadel. With the Bioroid's memory completely erased, we have no way of knowing for sure."

"I think we can safely blame this one on Saren and the Geth." said Sparatus, sighing.

"Between the incredibly advanced robotics but deeply flawed organic technology? Definitely." agreed Valern.

"It's also quite possible they used Prothean technology to create this machine's alloy...after all, Saren has been interested in Prothean ruins since long before he went rogue." Tevos rose from her seat. "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, Executor Pallin. The Spectres will be taking this matter into their hands from here on out. Every file you have on the Geth Bioroid is to be surrendered to them, and every member of C-Sec involved in this case, yourself included, are to keep quiet about this threat or face punishment under the conditions of the Citadel Official Secrets Act.

"We...aren't going to warn the general populace about this threat?" asked Pallin.

"And what would telling them that the Geth can make synthetics that mimic humans accomplish?" said Sparatus, his expression dark. "There would be panic on the streets of the Citadel! Innocent humans would be killed in witch hunts, and the Order Church would have an excuse to start a campaign of terror against anything non-human. No, we will most certainly NOT tell the general populace about this."

"This situation requires a more delicate - and subtle - touch." agreed Tevos. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss, Executor?"

"Yes." answered Pallin. "There's the matter of funding. Those budget cuts you're imposing on us...they are making it more difficult for us to keep the peace."

The three councilors shared a confused look. Valern spoke first. "The recent riot notwithstanding, we were under the impression that crime was lower than ever thanks to your efforts. If anything C-Sec should have too much money on its hands. Perhaps a few layoffs are in order?"

"There is more to the Citadel's criminal situation than just the reports. I will admit we've had a few good years lately but that won't last. The humans are coming up with newer, cheaper tech every year and a lot of it makes it way on the streets. We've had to deal with Krogans wrapped in non-Newtonian gel armour and fully automatic _shotguns,_ and I've lost over six hundred agents in the past year alone. And now, we may very well need to deal with more of _these._" he pointed at a hologram of the Nielsen Bioroid for emphasis. "If one of my agents encounters a Bioroid in a dark alley, an Agent mk 1 and a Kessler isn't going to save his _skin, _especially since he's not allowed know a thing about what he's facing."

"That is why you have a Special Response team, Executor." said Tevos. "They receive the very best equipment you can afford, no?"

This, _this_ was why Pallin hated dealing with the Council: they could be so very out of touch. He didn't blame them for it, though. After all, the only way for a trio of sentients to manage a galactic supranational union was by digesting filtered and incomplete information through a computer screen and making grossly general decisions. He was still a bit galled by their apparent calm: He was, after all, trying to warn them of the dangers of lurking in their own backyard.

"That's not how it works: If an agent dies before he can report the presence of a Bioroid then Special Response can't do anything at all. Worse still, C-Sec loses a good man and whoever controls these things gets another infiltrator in the organization. This very well nearly happened to two of my detectives AND an Alliance Intel agent. We need better weapons and armour! My men need to know about the enemy so that they can be more vigilant!"

"No." said Tevos flatly. "Executor. This is _not_ some Terminus fiefdom, this is the Citadel, and the Citadel is meant to be a shining example of civilization. What example will we set if we outfit our police officers like soldiers and have them patrol the streets? "

"And if over two hundred thousand men and women are aware of this...situation," commented Valern, "then it won't be long before the rest of populace does, as well."

"Our civilization is built on trust," Tevos continued, "and once the people stop trusting us and each other, then chaos will ensue."

Pallin let out a snort of contempt. "So be it." Pallin dismissed the holographic presentation, save for the nightmarish image of Nielsen's severed head. "I certainly hope that _trust_ will be foremost on your mind when you decide whether or not you lock your bedroom door when you go to sleep tonight, Councilors." And without even asking his leave, he left.

_**~[h+]~**_

As the door closed behind Pallin, Tevos cradled her face and sighed. "_**Goddess**_, this is the last thing we need to deal with right now." She dismissed the ghastly hologram. "The Terminus systems are on the rise, the Batarian Theocracies are ready to declare a Blood War on all of humanity, THE prime candidate to be the first human Spectre dies at the very HEART of Council space shortly after surviving an attack by the GETH, the nations of Sol now each want a Spectre, and, oh yes, the_ Geth can now mimic sentients perfectly?_"

"Pallin did have a point," said Sparatus, sighing as he relaxed into his seat. "The whole of C-Sec can't defend us if they aren't on the lookout against this type of synthetic."

"Assuming, of course, that Mr Jensen did not just kill the only one." said Valern. "_This_ is what the Spectres are for. _They_ will be on the lookout. _They_ will tell us is there truly is a major threat."

"I would feel better," said Tevos. "If our friends at the Special Tasks Group are made aware of this potential threat."

"Of course," said Valern. "I've already forwarded Pallin's files to my contacts in STG."

"And perhaps we should leave C-Sec's budget alone, as well..." said Sparatus. "Cutting any more funding might cause more problems in the long run..." the Turian councilor looked pensive.

"Is something bothering you?" asked Tevos.

Sparatus conjured up the images of the Bioroid. "I know I said the machine looks Geth, but what you two said about the metal...are you certain that only Protheans could alloy element zero?"

Velarn answered first: "I take great pride in keeping up with my people's scientific journals, and it simply can't...well, _couldn't_ be done."

"As for me..." Tevos pulled up a file on her datapad and handed it to Sparatus. "I've read a paper by Benezia's daughter. She theorizes that the ancient Protheans were capable of liquefying and even crystallizing element zero. Alloying it with a metal would not be out of the question.

Sparatus skimmed over the article. "...I'm not really liking her evidence. She's basing this solely on their artwork?"

"Dr T'soni has made some very interesting observations on Prothean culture based on their art alone. She may not earn the recognition she deserves being...what she is, but several other archaeologist on Thessia had wound up proving her theories in their attempts to disprove them."

"If that's the case...Saren would be very interested in getting her to work for him. If he's managed to unearth something that renders biotics nearly useless, who knows what he could find with T'soni at his side. We must have her brought to us as soon as possible, or at the very least deny Saren another potential asset."

"Agreed." said Tevos. She turned to Valern. "Do we have any Spectres to spare for an extraction mission? My contacts at the university of Thessia tells me she was headed for Caleston."

Valern nodded, understanding her meaning. Caleston was well within the Traverse and far too close for comfort to the Terminus systems. Unrest on the planet was rampant. "Jondum Bau is available. He's finished recovering in Shalta from wounds sustained on his last mission, and he should be more than able to handle a mission like this."

"Excellent," said Tevos. "Contact him immediately."

Valern began writing a quick email on his Omni-Tool.

"Speaking of Spectres...have we decided on who will have the honor of..." Sparatus made quotes in the airs with his fingers. "..._bringing Saren to justice?_" The truth behind Sparatus' sarcasm was that the council was not willing to wait for the selection process of a new Spectre to respond to the threat of Saren and his army of Geth. They had already mobilized assets to sabotage him as much as possible. The first human Spectre's real duty would be simply to capture him once the STG and the Turian Frumentarii had cornered him.

Tevos sighed. "There is simply too many candidates to choose from, and we would have to assign a Spectre to evaluate each of them. I'm partial to Ramsus, due to the relative neutrality of the Alliance in Terran affairs."

"Hmph...Well, you know who has my vote."

Valern finished typing and sent the encrypted e-mail through a safe channel and smiled "Ah yes, and I'm quite surprised you would give out your recommendation for a human, Sparatus. Perhaps you've been watching too many of this Mister Weltall's vids, hm?"

Sparatus, oddly enough, felt the need to defend his position. "If anyone has earned the right to become the first human Spectre, it is most certainly Jensen. The man has dealt with some of the vilest elements of Citadel space and came back for seconds without so much as a _complaint_. Meanwhile, Commander Shepard, ever true to her species, started running her big mouth at us for not indulging her wild accusations on the spot..."

"Sparatus," Tevos spoke firmly. "We've talked about this already, the political situation surrounding Jensen..."

"Bah! I know! Honestly, I doubt just giving humans an Alliance aligned Spectre will make humanity happy: they'll find _some_ way of complaining. Mark my words, nothing short of giving each Terran nation on Earth a Spectre will make satisfy the lot of them."

"Goddess, no! The situation would have to be dire to consider that as a possibility..."

"How dire a situation?" asked Sparatus.

"The sudden death of four of our Spectres at once?" suggested Valern, half-jokingly.

"_Please,_" dismissed Tevos. "The likelyhood of that-" but then she reconsidered uttering that sentence.

_**~[h+]~**_

_Something was wrong about this place._

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen_

_dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Adam's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of unseen strangers that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

"_Hello?" Adam's voice echoed. "Is anyone out there?" _

_"Adam..." pleaded Julian's distant voice. "look after them...please..."_

"Julian?" called out Adam. He looked frantically around but saw no one. "Where are you?!"

_"For God's sake, Adam..." pleaded Faridah, tears welling up in her eyes. "Stop...It's just not worth it..."_

"Faridah?..."

_"You've lost her, Jensen!" taunted Namir. "Men like us... We never get back the things we love..."_

_"None of this would have happened if you'd just STOPPED." accused Quinn. "All these deaths, and all the deaths that will follow because of this PLAGUE...It's all on YOU, __bratán! It's all on you!..."_

_..._

_"...You were nothing more than a science project to me."_

_..._

_"MY CHILD WILL NEVER BE YOURS! HE WILL BE THE ONE TO LEAD US INTO THE DAY, WHILE YOU WILL LINGER IN THE SHADOWS, FOREVER!"_

_..._

_"Alif...Don't be afraid." _

_The blade struck, and little Alif cried for his mother._

_..._

_Jensen wandered the forest, his feet sluggish, his steps faltering, as he listened to the echoes of his distant past, never once defending himself against their accusations and ignoring their pleas. He didn't really want to escape, not anymore. He needed the reminder, needed to remember what he had to atone for. Just as he knelt on the dirt, the forest of dead trees became a field of wheat. It was his field, his own little lot in Elysium._

_And his house of stone on the distant hill._

_"Look, at it!" said Reynolds, awed. "Perfect for that little herd of tykes you and Fahl have got yourselves, just say the word and it's all yours."_

"No, please..." quietly begged Jensen. "I don't want to see this."

_Jensen could hear the sound of children playing in the distance like unseen ghosts, coming from everywhere at once. _

_"Adam..." the voice belonged to a lost love he had not truly deserved. "Wake up...the children are hungry..."_

_"Aw... just a few more minutes..." groaned Adam's disembodied voice from the house on the hill. "The kids can cook breakfast themselves..." Adam laughed...and as Jensen heard it he found the sound so alien: when had he ever laughed so...happily before? He couldn't remember. Fahl answered with that wonderful laugh of hers, and the sound of sheets being pulled away and the sound of a man falling off the bed echoed from the house on the hill._

_..._

_"It's just me, now..." said little Sunny. "all the other kids...their parents came back for them." _

_"You'll always have us, Sunny." said Adam, reassuringly._

_"Always?"_

_"Always. I promise."_

_..._

_"Off to help the needy once more?" asked Fahl._

_"It's coin in the purse, and food on the table until i can harvest that wheat..." said Adam._

"No, don't go!..." shouted Adam. _The wheat surrounding him started to catch fire. A church bell tolled._

"_...Just be wary." said Fahl, concerned. "Sunny and I always worry when you're not home."_

_"I'll be fine! Don't you worry about me..."_

"No, don't leave them on their own!" pleaded Jensen. "They're coming!"

_He made his way to the house on the hill as it caught on fire, but just as he reached the door, the church bell tolled again, the earth shook, and broke under his feet, creating a wide chasm between him and his old home. The wound in the earth healed, and Jensen was right back where he started._

_It was getting hotter, and the orange of the blaze began to taint the dark grey sky._

_**"You have committed a crime most heinous." **the inquisitor's voice boomed. **"You, Alien whore, have lain with a machine and called it your husband."**_

"Leave them alone!"

_**"And you, child, have called a machine your father.**_

"It's me you want!"

_**"What punishment would fit such a terrible crime, my Templars?!"**_

"No..."

_**"BURN THEM!"**_

_"Adam," called out Fahl weakly...they had beaten her so badly..._

"Fahl, FAHL! I'M HERE!" Adam ran for the burning house, but the earth beneath his feet stayed cruel.

_**"BURN THEM!"**_

_"Daddy! Daddy where are you?!" screamed Sunny as the flames started to lick her skin"_

_**"BURN THEM!"**_

"Sunny? SUNNY! Oh god, NOOOO!"

_Jensen leapt over the newly formed chasm and caught the edge, his feet dangled into the void before gaining footing on the stone wall. He mantled, and ran up to the burning house's heavy wooden door and yanked it away with all his might. Inside were the figures of a woman with her limbs broken futilely shielding a tiny body from the heat. They were frozen in eternal agony, their flesh blackened by the heat. _

_**BURN!**_

_**BURN!**_

_**BURN!**_

_Jensen simply fell to his knees and let the fire take him. The bell tolled, the earth shook, and Jensen could feel himself falling as his flesh burned and his metal turned to liquid, and closed his eyes._

_When he opened them again, he was surrounded by blackness, the debris of his home fell alongside him and his intact arms and blades were covered in blood._

_Jensen could hear the voice of the Inquisitor. Oh, how he had made the man bleed._

_**"You shall...know, no peace, Abomination! I am but one of a whole dedicated to your eternal punishment and-"**_ _The inquisitor made but a lame gurgling and Jensen **squeezed.** Oh, how Jensen had made him pay, him, and all of the men that followed him... _

_Suddenly, a blinding light overwhelmed his eyes._

_A plain of ash and fire._

_A shrine to all life._

_A sea frozen in time._

_A castle in the sky._

_Visions came and went, of events of a war long past and events of a conflict soon to come. They streaked before his sight, and when they were gone the sight of a masked man in regal tanned robes greeted Adam in the weightless dark. His voice thundered, and yet soothed Adam so deeply the pain of his recent nightmare almost bled away from him. _

_**"ADAM...DON'T BE AFRAID."**_

But before Aleph could speak again, the phone rang, and Adam woke up.

_**~[h+]~**_

The ringing hit Jensen's ears like an explosion, and he opened his eyes. His head and torso were covered in cold sweat, his brain was on fire, and his heart was still racing from the dream. He sat up on his bed, cradled his face, and finally pushed the big flowing holographic button that his apartment's VI was helpfully shoving in his face.

"Jensen here."

"We have a couple of problems." said Pallin over the phone.

"Can this wait? I got morning breath and I'm coated in sweat."

A pregnant beat passed before Pallin answered that one.

"...I'll be brief: the Spectres will be taking over the Nielsen case, and We've all been slapped with the COSA. We can't talk about what Nielsen really is."

"I can't say that I'm shocked. The you-know-whats is a VIPs worst nightmare. Here's to hoping the Spectres will be able to figure out who was pulling Nielsen's strings."

Pallin sighed. "The Council is already blaming the Geth."

"...The hell? I told you-"

"-I know what you told me. They're still blaming the Geth."

"...Of all the moronic bull-"

"Jensen, you have to understand something: the only way for three people to manage a union of a trillion sentients is by macro-management. The council thinks in incomplete, racialist terms. When the Geth first ran amok, the council wasn't interested in punishing those responsible for the whole mess: they cast blame on the entire race. That's just one of many examples."

"So when they encounter a machine that's too weird they automatically blame the Geth, too?"

"As you say. The fact that the machine was built with an incredibly advanced alloy lends some credence to the conclusion...but just between you and me? I'm not convinced it was the Geth. The way you describe Nielsen's...insane behavior...It doesn't sound like what I've heard about the Geth at all."

At that moment Jensen wanted nothing else than to burst into the Council chambers and tell them exactly what he thought about their so-called logic, but that would accomplish nothing. And once a Spectre took over your case, well...

No, he would stay calm.

"I take it those spooks took everything on my desk already?" asked Jensen.

"Yours, Garrus'...hell, they even had a look at mine."

"What about Walker? I take it they're interviewing her right now?"

"...That's...What I wanted to talk to you about. Can't do it over the phone, meet me in my office at the embassies. Pallin out.

The call disconnected, and Jensen brought up his to-do list on his AR interface:

_-Pick up the Special Ammo at Amnon's,_ crossed out.

_-Arrest Hwang,_ crossed out.

_-Punch Hwang when no one's looking,_ crossed out.

_-Do your Paperwork,_ crossed out.

_-Check car for bugs, _crossed out.

_-Check car for bombs, _crossed out.

_-Pick up favorite coat at dry-cleaners,_ crossed out.

_-Triple check security,_ crossed out.

_-Get some goddamned sleep._

_-Check on Garrus._

_ -Check on Sarah._

He crossed out the third to last entry, and added "Meet with Pallin" before "Check on Garrus." When the Executor called, that meant ASAP. Of course, that didn't stop Jensen from taking a shower, making himself a nice breakfast, and taking a few minutes to decide which outfit to put on. He settled on dark pants, a white button shirt, a blue tie and his signature dark blue leather coat. He loaded Sasha with the Red Rounds, holstered the weapon, and left for the Presidium.

_**~[h+]~**_

The way to Pallin's office had been...a bit nerve-wracking. After that encounter with the Bioroid, Jensen began to suspect everyone that got too close to him of being one. At first he turned on his Smart-Vision occasionally, scanning people with his eyes. But after a while? He simply would not turn it off. When he finally arrived at Pallin's door, he had drained away five percent of his power reserves. He decided it was time to turn it off...for a while.

He reached for the door bell, but the door opened on its own. Inside the office, Pallin was arguing with a european man in a black business attire, with well groomed dark hair. Jensen scanned them both with his Smart-Vision: Pallin was still himself, much to Jensen's relief, and the suit was completely organic save for the white dots of element zero and the necessary implant suite that allows a human to create and manipulate Biotic fields.

There was a piece of jewelery around his neck under his clothes, and Jensen thought he had seen it before, it looked like...

"I can't believe you were fooled so easily." said the man venomously. "Do you have any idea of the damage she could have caused?"

"It seems to me," said Pallin patiently. "That Walker helped us neutralize a killer _- Commander Shepard's killer -_ at the risk of her own life. Some fake she turned out to be... Am I to understand that justice wasn't what the AIA wanted?"

"Of course that's what we wanted!"

"Then I fail to see the problem."

"You let an agent of the Shadow Broker infiltrate your organization! There's your problem!"

Jensen quirked his eyebrow..._Walker wasn't with the Alliance? The Shadow Broker? What in the-_

"No, YOU let a Shadow Broker agent infiltrate yours, and she used the papers YOUR agency provided. As far as I'm concerned, she's your screw-up, not ours."

The agent ignored him. "You should have every C-Sec agent she came in contact with arrested! Or does C-Sec condone their Detectives to consort with criminals and terrorists? They are a security risk!"

"If you believe that, then by all means, one of said Detectives is right behind you. You're free to try and apprehend him."

The agent turned around to face Jensen. He was a young man in his late twenties to early thirties, dressed in a G-man suit with a subtle floral pattern embroidered in the suit's fabric. His face's contour was chiseled, but its slender frame, combined with his piercing gray eyes and slightly small mouth conspired to make him look boyishly handsome. He held out a hand covered in black leather and introduced himself as if he hadn't just called for Jensen's arrest.

"Bryce Lawson. Alliance Intelligence." he said, neutrally.

"Fuck off." responded Jensen as he crossed his arms and glared at Lawson behind his dark gold mirrored shades. "You requested my presence, Executor?" he said aloud to Pallin, his gaze fixed on Lawson. To the man's credit, the man simply stared right back.

"_I_ requested your pres-"

"He was talking to _me,_" reminded Pallin. "Jensen, as you just heard, it turns out 'Walker' wasn't quite a hundred percent honest with us."

_Surprise, surprise,_ Jensen thought sarcastically. "So, do you want me to go and arrest her? She should still be in the hospital."

"That's the thing, she isn't there anymore. She didn't even check out, she simply vanished."

"Another point for C-Sec's vigilance, I'm sure." commented Lawson.

Pallin ignored him. "Both the AIA and the Spectres would like a word Walker, and the Spectres have put an APB out on her. While everyone will be on the lookout for her, I want YOU to track her down, Jensen."

"Alright, can either of you tell me who she really is and what she and the Shadow Broker really want?"

"Her favorite alias," said Lawson. "is Aya Brea. She's been a thorn in the side of every major Terran organization for the past decade, stealing state secrets and, true to her employer, sold them to the highest bidder. I'm sure you've noticed her...expensive tastes."

Jensen's mind drifted back to Hwang's restaurant and Walker slowly savoring her sushi. _Focus, goddamn you._

"Also, she's not entirely human, as I'm sure you've noticed."

"...I don't know what you're talking about."

"Come now, mister Jensen...Her blood is all over the floor and your clothes and yet she hasn't so much as a scratch on her? Please. Her nature should be very apparent."

"So she's a bio-aug. Not our concern: she hasn't got any extra limbs and she can't spit acid."

"She's not an aug, Jensen..." said Pallin.

"What is she then?" asked Jensen.

"Well, she's a Bioroid." answered Lawson. The implications of what he just said shocked Adam.

...

_"Jensen...don't let them take me away..."_

_"They'll take care of you."_

_"No...they can't..._

...

"...the doctors, they said-"

"-She's not like the one you just retired, Mister Jensen. That was a combat model. Brea was designed to be the perfect infiltrator, constructed to be _completely_ indistinguishable from the real deal and still retain some of the advantages of being a synthetic organism: faster reflexes, enhanced intelligence, superior strength and so on. The only way to tell her apart from a normal human being is by putting her cells' abnormal Mitochondria through a high-resolution medical scanner, which, fortunately, her doctors did not do. That's one mess we won't have to sanitize."

Jensen did not like the way Lawson said 'sanitize'. At all.

"If you don't believe me, believe this, she used a similar kill-and-replace tactic in approaching you." Lawson withdrew a datapad from his pocket and handed it to Jensen. "The REAL Sarah Walker never made it to her flight from Bekenstein...We haven't found the body, but we're not exactly hopeful of ever finding it. Bioroids are...thorough, when they dispose of a corpse."

Jensen examined the heavily redacted file on the real Sarah Walker. Her photo did not look like Brea at all. The real Walker was a round faced and raven haired European, and while not unattractive she kinda reminded Jensen of a green ogre he saw in a movie when he was a kid.

"Well, she got the hair wrong, apparently." quipped Jensen as he handed the Datapad back. He wasn't entirely convinced Lawson was on the up and up about this. Then again, CASIE didn't tell him anything about the man besides that he was 'Arrogant and Contemptuous'. Maybe he was telling the truth, or maybe he was a consummate liar.

"Jensen," said Pallin, "it is EXTREMELY important that this Brea is brought in for examination. If she really IS a Bioroid AND working for the Shadow Broker, then the Council won't be able to ignore the threat that she and rest of her kind represents."

Jensen did not like the way Pallin said 'examination'. At all.

Lawson smiled his boyish smile. "And once the council is done with her the AIA will take her into custody...is that, empathy I see on your face, Mister Jensen? Has she managed to wrap you around her finger? Don't feel too bad about her: empathy is the one thing she isn't capable of. Believe me..._I know_." Jensen caught the briefest of a flicker of emotion come across Lawson's face. Hatred. Pure, venomous hatred. Apparently he and Brea had a history. "Under the treaty of Aken-"

"The treaty of Aken doesn't apply to cases taken over by Spectres. I'm pretty sure Brea falls under their jurisdiction, now. Go and wave your piece of paper at their faces and see where that gets you. I'm going to look for her alone." And without asking his leave, Jensen simply left.

"Well, there you have it." said Pallin, leaning back into his chair. "Perhaps you shouldn't have called for Jensen's arrest before requesting his help? Anything else i can do for you, Mister Lawson? I'm a busy man."

"...I can't believe you trapped me like that. And why didn't you order him to follow my commands?"

Pallin's expression became menacing. "I don't have to do SHIT for you, Lawson. With the Treaty of Aken overridden by the Spectres, you and the AIA are about as welcome here as a venereal disease." He jabbed a talon at the door. "_Get out._"

_**~[h+]~**_

In one of the embassy's public washrooms, Lawson waited for the other occupant to leave. He mentally reviewed his objectives and their status.

Luring Jensen into a trap was out, sadly, but there would be other opportunities. But that was secondary. The primary objective was well underway: Lawson had put the seed of suspicion in Pallin's head: That the Shadow Broker was behind the Bioroids. And once the Blacklight squad (or alternatively, C-Sec) captured Brea, Lawson would hand her over to the Spectres, and the Spectres would report to the Councilors. The blame would be shifted onto the Shadow Broker and away from Saren.

Saren had a part to play, although exactly what...that was only for Lawson's masters to know. And that meant the Broker had to be put on the defensive.

The only other occupant in the washroom left, and Lawson picked the cleanest urinal he could find, unzipped, and relieved himself. Lawson didn't like exposing himself like this: the size of his penis, while impressive, was actually a source of embarrassment to him. Sure, it made him a tempting honey pot sometimes, but it also lead to uncomfortable conversation in the washroom.

He felt a shiver across his body, and while most men would have dismissed that one as a piss shiver, Lawson knew better.

"The thing about the Glass Shield," he said aloud to no one in particular. "Is that its electromagnetic field can interact with element zero nodes. Using it around me causes my nodes to tingle all over." he tucked his member in, zipped up, and turned around with his hands up. Jensen decloaked in front of him, with a revolver pointed at his head.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Hi." said Jensen, his gun perfectly steady and unwavering.

"Why hello to you too, Mister Jensen." said Lawson as he glanced at the door. It was locked.

"You know..." he said, putting on his boyish smile. "...if you wanted a quick tryst you could have just asked. We could have gone someplace a little less...filthy. Although I have to admit...this does look suspiciously like one of my fantasies. Is this the part where you tell me I have the right to remain..._aroused?_"

"Enough. I'm going to ask you a question, and you're going to answer me."

"And what question would that be?"

"Why did the Alliance kill Shepard?"

Lawson simply laughed at that. "I'm sorry? Am I really supposed to dignify that with a serious response? Do you have anything to even remotely back up that claim?"

"Torfan."

"Never touch the stuff."

"Shepard's biotic unit was ordered to make the final push into a meat grinder, but She and Alenko disobeyed, and she went so far as to take down her superior officer to keep those men out. And yet, she wasn't punished for it. Why? For all intents and purposes, falling back meant an Alliance loss."

"Interesting...How do you know what happened at Torfan?"

...

_"Laputan Machine, repeat, Laputan Machine!"_

...

"I...I have my sources..."

"Huh-huh..."

"You didn't punish her because you already had. You did something to her: something that caused her Eezo nodes to flare uncontrollably...you tainted her neuropozyne."

_..._

_"Torfan," said Anderson simply. _

_Jensen turned the page. A neurological diagnostics report on Shepard's brain. Someone wrote HOW DID THIS HAPPEN next to it in red ink._

_"This is from the first time Shepard started suffering from her neuropozyne symptoms, isn't it?" asked Jensen, already knowing the answer._

_..._

_"A bit soon for an injection, isn't it?" asked Shepard. The med tech didn't answer as she buried the hypospray into her skin._

_..._

Jensen continued. "But she survived it, someone gave her an acetylcholine inhibitor just in time, and she started to forget things...It was a golden opportunity to remold her mind, wasn't it? One trip to that secret psycho-conditioning facility, and she would have gone back to being a good little soldier, but then something else happened. She got more help."

...

_Jensen turned the page. Schematics for some kind of wetware._

_"This...this is a blueprint for a Soulcatcher." said Walker in awe._

_..._

"Someone provided her with an advanced graybox. She was fine, she was stable, and you didn't get a chance to try and poison her again, because she got all her nu-poz treatments on the move in a cruiser. Because it had to look like an accident, didn't it? She was too popular, too important to simply murder. People would sniff around, investigate. But then she got assigned to the Normandy, a frigate with a tiny, tiny, sickbay.

...

_A whole week of dementia. That was why she didn't let Chakwas do the treatment: the Normandy's sickbay was small and had little in the way of privacy. She didn't want the crew to see her like this. She didn't want them to hear her shout obscenities at shadows. _

_..._

"So she booked a room at an Alliance run hospital, you knew you wouldn't get a better chance than that, you had to move fast, you didn't have a whole lot of assets available on the Citadel, and so you gave the job to the only one that could pull off a convenient accident: Diana Nielsen. Her private little museum in her walk-in closet: those accidents she framed and signed, many of their victims were involved with Terran affairs in one way or another. A fine career of assassination that lasted four years...and herein lies your worst fuckup - Nielsen became unstable, became obsessed, saw her work as art and herself as an artist, and she was fed up with no one knowing what she had done.

...

_**"yOu...wILL...nEveR...fo-fo-forGEt...meeeee**eeeee.**..." **said the disembodied head with a grin as the red light in its eyes faded into pools of dead black._

...

"That's why she used the knife instead of sabotaging Shepard's meds..."

...

_"Either way," said Adam, :this was definitely personal. A good hitman knows how to make a kill look like an accident. Pretty good opportunity for that here: Victim's got a severe medical condition. Just stop the IV from giving her the enzyme and wait as her Eezo nodes do the rest of the work. We dismiss it as an accident. Case Closed. But then our killer ignores that and goes for a knife kill?" Adam pointed at the blade stuck in Shepard's chest. "And then leaves the weapon IN the body?"_

...

"...And that's why she left the flowers behind. But she wasn't content with just outing herself, Oh no. She wanted us to know who she was working for, that's why she used _**Alliance gear!**_"

...

_"It's a Type 98 Alliance Navy utility knife." said said Euridycia. "Standard issue for any Marine. No fingerprints."_

...

Lawson put his hands down and clapped, slowly. "You, are a just an imaginative little bugger, aren't you? But you forget, what possible motive could the Alliance have of killing humanity's finest champion?

"If there's anything I've learned about men and women of authority? They're _**obsessed**_ with control. Shepard was the most powerful human biotic ever, a hero, and the most likely candidate to become the first, maybe even the ONLY human Spectre...and you just couldn't keep her under control, could you?!"

The Alliance Agent fixed him with a glare. "Hmph...more assumptions. You have no real proof: If you did, we wouldn't be having this conversation! You would have taken this straight to the Executor."

A pregnant, tense beat followed... Then, Jensen simply smiled. "You're right, I don't. But you know what's funny about pointing a gun at someone's head? Training or no, their eyes dart around and linger on the one thing they want to keep safe. Could be a loved one, could be a piece of jewelery...in your case? You've been trying real hard NOT to look at your Omni-Tool...I'm guessing there's SOMETHING in there you don't want me to see...So, Agent Lawson...Am I right, or am _I right?"_

Lawson's face turned vicious, his body instantly flared blue, and he telekinetically slapped Jensen's gun away. He biotically propped him up, then slammed him against the wall mirror, between two thick glass sinks. He was out cold, and Lawson prepared a Warp bolt to finish him off.

"You should have stayed in that freezer, you outdated old piece of-"

Lawson was interrupted by a sink slamming into his chest. His reflexes allowed him to bring up a Barrier just in time, but some of the kinetic energy got past it, and he was slammed against the wall with the urinals. He was stunned for a moment, and when he recovered his wits Jensen was already charging at him, a roar held back behind his teeth. The unstoppable Cyborg Cop tackled the not so immovable Biotic Bastion, and both men slammed through the concrete wall and landed into the floor of the adjoining women's bathroom in a shower of water. A human woman and an Asari, who had been gossiping about the torrid affair between two ambassadors, screamed at the sight of the two men viciously trying to punch each other with fists packed with superhuman power and fled the scene.

_The fight was on._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: RELIGION: EARTH: PARAMILITARY ORGANIZATIONS: THE TEMPLARS<p>

_A controversial group that came into being shortly after the tumultuous times of the Collapse, the Templars, led by Grand Master Saman the 3rd, are the military arm of the Terran Order Church. Initially founded in Trier as a security force to guard the Order's vast Platinum reserve, the Templars greatly expanded during the century spent rebuilding civilization, and their ground military might rivals that of the UNAS. True to their namesake, the Templars also manage the vast finances of the Order Church, and this has led to many conspiracy theories as to who truly controls both organizations. In fact, the Templars are even more vocal in their criticism of modern human biotechnology than the Order Church itself, and many suspect a schism has begun to form between the Grand Master and Her Holiness._

_The Templar infantry doctrine involves outfitting a small number of elite units with highly advanced weapons and armour that include the Knight hardsuit, the V86A Crusader Power Armor and the Seraph flying Power Armor. While the typical Templar soldier is always armed with an assault rifle, they also always carry some kind of incendiary device, such as flamers, Wildfire grenades, and White Phosphorus portable mortar guns._

__**~[h+]~**__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_

_**So yeah, Humans are assholes! Miranda is a DUDE! Who knew? **_

_**Oh man, I admit, I thought i was going to screw up this big revelation. Initially, I had Kai Leng in mind as Shepard's killer, then I had changed my mind to an Agent 47 clone, and the evidence was thrown around kinda willy-nilly, But every thing came together (almost) perfectly. Whew! The Alliance would, of course, always have been behind it all from the beginning. This is why you should plan ahead, folks. Don't be like me. **_

_**Lawson's quip about the 'right to remain aroused' is a joke I heard on Spoiler Warning, a Let's Play commentary show.**_

_**By the way, if you'd like see early previews of the fic and would like to offer feedback as a write, feel free to log on the Spacebattles forums (not sure how the url blocker here works so you'll have to google it). **_


	20. Chapter 17: Deal with the Devil

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 17: Deal with the Devil**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early author's notes: This chapter is where I'm experimenting with writing elaborate fight scenes. I have to admit with me being detail oriented and a bit of a martial arts film fan, well... It kinda got out of hand. My apologies if a thousand word blow by blow aren't your cup of tea. If it is, well uh... Surprise!<strong>_

_**I wrote the fight listening to The Subway Fight in the Matrix Soundtrack. I recommend you put that track up while reading this. ;)**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Lawson deflected Jensen's left-right punch combination and burst at him, landing a punch on both Jensen's sternum and abdomen, pushing the cyborg away into the mirrored wall. He immediately followed up with a biotic punch straight to the face. Jensen ducked and slipped under it and let Lawson's fist destroy the mirror and crack the wall behind it. As he slipped, Jensen countered with a knee strike to Lawson's kidney. The hit landed, but the Alliance Intel agent's Barrier soaked ninety percent of the blow's energy. Considering Jensen was powerful enough to punch out a brick wall, the knee strike still managed to make Lawson wince and grunt a little. He had increased his mass considerably to avoid being thrown around by Jensen's strength, so he only stumbled a very short distance in the direction of the toilet stalls.<p>

_Four minutes_, Jensen thought, _I have four minutes to subdue the bastard before the Patrolmen arrive on the scene. _Jensen knew that almost all of the patrolmen on the Presidium were rookies, and they typically called for backup straight from the vets at the academy before going into a situation. Taking the long elevator rides into account, that left Jensen with a little time to finish this fight. _Barrier can block physical attacks, so arm blades won't work. Need to go with blunt force trauma to overcome it._

Jensen followed up the knee strike by raining down flurry of blows - combinations of jabs, hooks, knee strikes - upon Lawson, who deflected or blocked every single one with a perfect, biotically enhanced Krav Maga defense. Each blow did almost nothing to drain Lawson of his stamina or concentration, and his Barrier held fast.

"Is that all you've got, Jensen?" taunted Lawson, smiling that arrogant boyish smile of his.

Jensen shifted tactics, and attempted a powerful heel kick to Lawson's diaphragm. Lawson caught it with both hands, and before he could attempt to twist it, Jensen followed up immediately with a flash kick with his other foot that landed on Lawson's chin. The hit dazed him, causing him to release his grip on Jensen's foot and making him fly in an arch in the air and into the steel door of a bathroom, which bent inwardly under Lawson's weight. Jensen landed on both feet and approached his opponent's slumped form, ready to make sure he wouldn't wake up anytime soon, but then he felt an invisible battering ram slam into his stomach. The Biotic Throw pushed him all the way to the much, much sturdier washroom door, and Jensen's back slammed into it. He fell on his posterior, and slumped against the door.

Lawson rose- no, floated back up- by lightening his mass signature and striking the floor with both hands at once. His body crackled with biotic energy as he landed on his feet. Jensen got up, but he quickly locked the door to give himself a few more seconds of non-interference and to make sure neither two fighters would leave this place until the other was well and truly down. At this, Lawson simply tilted his head left, then right, his neck stretching and popping each time.

"_My turn._" Lawson said menacingly as his body's glow intensified. Sensing a projectile duel and lacking a gun, Jensen dashed for the glass sinks and ripped the closest one from it's moorings, causing the pipes to rip out. Water sprinkled all over him as Lawson began his own one-two biotic combination: a Stasis attack followed by a Warp bolt to detonate the field. The Stasis bolt surged out of Lawson's hands, and as the energy bolt left Lawson's open palm Jensen threw the glass sink at the Stasis attack. The sink found its mark, and it stopped in mid hair, suspended in time. Lawson loosed the Warp bolt anyways, intent on detonating the glass sink.

It exploded in a flare of blue light, and Jensen was showered in glass shards. His shields stopped all of the ones that struck him, but his shield-belt beeped, signaling that its capacitors were completely drained. Unwilling to risk getting hit by another 'glass bomb' Jensen took advantage of the flare's bright flash to cloak and rushed Lawson. Unfortunately for Jensen, the water that had been spilling into the floor splashed with his every stride, signaling his presence. Lawson biotically ripped one of the stall's doors from its hinges and telekinetically swung it at Jensen in a wide arc like a huge fly swatter.

"Nice try, Jensen!" shouted Lawson.

The swing only succeeded in giving the invisible cyborg a weapon: Jensen decloaked and swung the door back at the agent, who ducked and weaved under it. He threw a biotic punch at the improvised weapon when Jensen swung again, causing it to crumple like wet cardboard. Jensen discarded the useless piece of metal and attempted to side-kick Lawson's left foot away. Lawson simply raised his foot and let Jensen's kick fly under it, but the cyborg used his side kick's momentum to do a full spin and land the very same kick on the side of Lawson's head just as he set his left foot down. Lawson's barrier soaked the hit again, but he found himself slammed against the wall, and his Barrier-covered head broke several ceramic tiles. Barely fazed, he immediately started another onslaught, a flurry of punches alternating between wide swings and quick jabs. Jensen, likewise an expert in the 360 degrees defense, deflected every single one, and occasionally threw counter jabs at Lawson's head. They were barely strong enough to phase him.

Lawson attempted to daze Jensen by striking both of his eardrums at once with open palms, but Jensen blocked the attack with both arms. Before Adam could seize Lawson's wrists, the agent grabbed Jensen's head and pulled him down for a biotically accelerated knee strike to his abdomen, then another, and then another. Jensen grunted under every strike as they knocked some wind out of him. Unable to resist, Jensen's head was pulled in and slammed three times against the wall.

Deciding that enough was enough and sensing an opportunity to finish this, Lawson pulled Jensen into an over-the-shoulder throw. He then straddled him to pin him down with his increased mass signature, grabbed him by the throat and activated his incendiary Omni-Blade. Jensen recovered his sense quickly enough to grab Lawson's left wrist and catch his right fist, keeping the left hand away from his throat and the right one with the blade away from his head. Lawson, eager at the imminent kill, increased the mass signature of his right fist to match a full ton...and slowly increased it to two. Jensen could feel the heat coming from the small tongue of flame being projected from between two flash forged superheated blades getting closer and closer to his face. He grunted desperately as he exerted all his willpower into his arm to delay the inevitable.

Lawson leaned in, his face full of vicious eagerness.

"Shhhh...Give it up! It'll be quicker that way..."

The white hot blade was getting closer...

"Aw, look at you! What's the matter Jensen? Afraid of a little _fire?"_

_Afraid_? Yes, Jensen had become afraid of fire, and he also _hated_it. There had been fire on the day his body was mangled and ruined, when he thought he had lost Megan forever. There had been fire in Neo Kobe, when he had heard the screams of a thousand machines built to understand pain, and there had been fire the day he had lost Fahl and Sunny.

And with those last few words, Lawson had made a terrible mistake. The way he emphasized the last word...he knew! and he had reminded Jensen of that horrible day on Elysium.

He had made Adam _mad._

Jensen bared his teeth, and Lawson's expression went from eagerness to disbelief as his two-ton fist was pushed back, then pain as Jensen twisted his hand. Losing his concentration, Lawson's mass went briefly back to normal and Jensen took the opportunity to wrestle him away and throw him into the handicap toilet stall. Both men wrestled on the ground until Jensen got the upper hand and forced Lawson's glowing right wrist into the toilet, breaking the ceramic bowl in a dozen pieces and bathing Lawson's arm in water. The incredible heat coming from Lawson's Omni-Blade flash-boiled the water, and he felt the terrible agony of his hand's skin being peeled away by the heat.

"AAAAAARGH!"

"What's the matter, Lawson?!" shouted Jensen as he raised his other fist. "Can't take the heat?!"

Lawson, in intense pain and desperation, pushed his opponent away from him with a biotic blast and pulled his hand out of the water. He got back on his feet and stared at his enemy, clenching his fists hard. Bryce dismissed the blade and channeled the pain in his hand and fed it into his will, making his fists glow in distorted blue flames. Jensen dismissed his shades as he raised his guard, staring into Lawson's eyes, silently goading him to come closer and finish this fight.

Lawson happily obliged and dashed forward, throwing jabs and crosses at Jensen's head, eager to pulp his skull. Jensen deflected and slipped past the first few strikes, until he blocked a left straight, twisted it, and locked Lawson's left arm under his armpit. With Lawson trapped and unable to evade, Jensen wailed on him with three overhand strikes to the skull. The shock to Lawson's brain caused his Barrier to start flickering, and he attempted to counter Jensen's onslaught with a right swing. Jensen deflected it, and locked Lawson's right arm under his armpit. Lawson countered with a knee strike to the stomach. Jensen replied with a headbutt. They went back and forth like this, inflicting incredible pain on each other, but neither men were willing to back down.

Lawson lightened Jensen's mass signature, lifted him up, roared, and tried to toss him like a rag doll, slamming him left against the thin metal wall of the stall (causing it be knocked off its moorings), and then to the right, against the ceramic tiled solid concrete wall. Not once letting go, Jensen kneed Lawson the the face, again and again. Lawson's concentration faltered, and Jensen's mass signature returned to normal, and Jensen took advantage of this to land another headbutt on Lawson's forehead with the added kinetic force of gravity. As the agent desperately tried to pull away, Jensen released the locked arms and Lawson stumbled backwards, discombobulated, but still not ready to yield.

Jensen took a deep breath, buried his anger deep inside his mind where it could fuel his focus. He triggered his Quicksilver, and the world slowed down.

_Time to finish this._

_Target will attempt a Biotic attack with good hand and resume ranged biotic attacks. Kick hand away, follow up with__ a side kick to the ribs at long range. Target will catch the foot, attempt to twist it. Must use the twist's momentum and counter with a jumping kick to the side of the head to ruin concentration further. Barrier output will be reduced. Land and crush foot, crack ribs. Target will lean forward in pain, will most likely attempt a clinch then a point blank Nova - Disable Biotic Amp. Barrier disabled - Dislocate Jaw. Back away. Strike genitals, then solar plexus._

"This is your last chance." said Jensen, his voice cold. "Surrender."

Lawson's answer came with the flare of his Biotics: "Fuck you."

Lawson attempted to fire off a Throw, and Jensen executed the attack perfectly. Lawson screamed in pain during the whole eight seconds Jensen spent to kick him in the head, stomp on his foot as he landed, unleash a flurry of punches at his ribs, and rabbit punch him in the back of the neck (and the amp) just as Lawson was about to clinch. The agent's screaming turned to a lame groaning as Jensen followed up with an uppercut into his jaw, took a step back, kicked him in the groin, then executed a flying knee into his solar plexus. In intense pain, Lawson was slammed against the wall, his back cracking the tiles. Some of them fell on him as he slumped down, physically crushed and spiritually defeated.

Jensen had won.

"You're under arrest." said Jensen flatly as he knelt down by Lawson and took his Omni-Tool. Lawson, incredibly, was still conscious, and snapped his jaw back into place with his masseter muscles alone. He grunted and winced, exposing his bloodied teeth, then spoke:

"For what?"

"Assaulting a police officer with intent to kill."

"Hah!" Lawson coughed out some blood. "You had a gun trained on me...it was _self-defense! _Once the cops get here, I'll make sure I'll have your badge for this! And then, you're going to spend the rest of your life in a tiny room blind and limbless!"

When he was done flash cuffing Lawson, Jensen pulled Sasha - the real one - out from his shoulder holster. "Did you mean this gun?"

"Wh-?!...what?! I knocked that gun away from your hands!"

"Yeah, you knocked away a toy." replied Jensen as he holstered his weapon. "Didn't you think it was a little weird that I let go of it so easily? It's amazing what you can make with Omni-Gel, these days. And before you even think about lying..." Jensen pointed at his artificial eyes. "I recorded myself making the replica just before I entered the washroom, and I've been recording this whole exchange too. You're going to look very stupid at your hearing when you tell them you couldn't tell the difference between a toy and the real deal... And you're going to have hard time selling self defense when you tried to stab me in the brain when you had me at your mercy."

Lawson fell silent and humiliated as the implications of what Jensen said sank in. If Jensen had wanted to, Lawson would have found himself with a big hole in his skull, and then he had been fooled into incriminating himself on the Citadel. His superiors would be _furious._ Jensen let him stew in his humiliation as he scanned the agent's Omni-Tool with his Smart-Vision to see if it had been damaged in the fight. The tool was a modified Nexus X, and the modifications weren't meant to enhance performance. Four small incendiary charges wired to the outer casing to prevent tampering with the device did not boost CPU speed, after all. Jensen was switched it on, and was faced with a login prompt. With no clue as to what the password was, Jensen was tempted to jack into it, but...

"That thing is full of Black ICE, isn't it?" asked Jensen.

"Why don't you -ah!..." Lawson tried to smile, but winced as pain radiated from his broken ribs. "...jack in, and see for yourself?"

"...Thanks, but no thanks." Jensen noticed something with his smart vision, the jewel that hung from Lawson's neck.

It was a rosary.

Jensen ripped Lawson's shirt partway and grabbed the jewel, snapping its chain of engraved thin, narrow plates. It was a silver cross the size of a coin with a blue, tear shaped sapphire in the middle.

"You're a member of the Order." Jensen said, accusingly.

"...Is being a believer a crime?...Give it back..."

"...You're _lucky_ it's not black steel with a red lozenge, Lawson."

Jensen could spot tiny electronics inside of it: four holo-emitters mounted on each cardinal point of the cross. They were all linked to a switch under the sapphire. Jensen pressed it, and a holograph appeared. It was Lawson and the real Walker, happily smiling at the camera. Had they been lovers? Spouses? Siblings? Had this been the real thing or just another cover identity?

"...Give it...Back..." begged Lawson as he reached out for the rosary with his bound hands. "Please..."

Lawson looked so pitiable now, and Jensen considered giving the jewel back. After all it wasn't his. But then, Lawson's body flared with blue energy.

"...Give! It! BACK!"

Before Lawson could fire off another attack, Jensen casually punched him in the head, knocking him out cold, then put the rosary in Lawson left pocket. Behind he could hear the sound C-Sec patrolmen trying to open the door. Jensen got up and looked at the damage he and Lawson had done.

_Pallin is going to kill me_, he thought, and then the door opened. Guns were pointed, questions were asked, but in the end Lawson soon found himself in C-Sec Academy's secure infirmary, comatose.

_**~[h+]~**_

In the Executor's office at C-Sec academy, Pallin tried to stay calm by focusing on his view of the five Wards. But he failed miserably: He was the Executor. Only station chiefs had to deal with the crap Jensen put on his table. Pallin swiveled his chair around when he heard Adam enter his office. His calm had been ruined immediately.

"Jensen! By all the Spirits of Palaven what in the HELL were you thinking sending an AIA agent into a COMA?! I've got a repair bill with too many zeroes on it! I've got Udina sending me complaints of police brutality and calling for your suspension! I am THIS close to indulging him!"

"I can explain..."

"You damn well better explain, and you better make it good!"

Jensen shared with Pallin his theory of the true masterminds behind the death of Junko Shepard, how he had confronted Lawson about it, and how the agent had tried to kill him over an Omni-Tool. Jensen plugged in his Tool to his data jack, and shared with Pallin his audio-video recording of the conversation, and the fight that ensued. It was fairly obvious that Lawson had attacked Jensen while under threat of a _toy, _and went far, FAR above what was considered acceptable force when it comes to self-defense. Still, there was enough ambiguity here and there for lawyers to have a field day with this evidence. And Lawson had verbally admitted nothing.

Pallin was dead silent the whole time, processing every word and blow. When the video ended, he sighed, and massaged his eyelids.

"First the council blames Saren and the Geth for Shepard's murder, then the AIA comes in and subtly blames the Shadow Broker, and then YOU come along and blame AIA. Spirits, who's the enemy, here?"

"I think we can safely assume that the Shadow Broker having Shepard killed is complete bunk, considering the source. As for Saren...well, I'm not entirely convinced his hands are clean of this either. If anything, Saren was already on the run for Eden Prime, and making use of assassination synthetics that resemble sentients should have brought down the full might of the Spectres down on his head. Blaming the Shadow Broker shifts the heat OFF Saren. Why would the AIA do this unless..."

"...Unless Saren and the AIA are allies. Wait, that doesn't make any sense! Saren attacked an Alliance colony!"

"I've learned never to underestimate how many innocents the people in power are willing to sacrifice for their plots. Maybe Saren's just a pawn. Maybe the AIA is. Maybe they're both working for the same mastermind and neither of them knows it. Either way..." Jensen set Lawson's Omni-Tool down on Pallin's desk. "_This _may provide the lead I need to find out who in the alliance is pulling the strings."

Pallin looked at the metallic box and scratched his chin. An orange light on it declared it was in sleep mode. "If the AIA is anything like the STG, that thing's casing is booby-trapped, loaded with Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics, and its data is encrypted. Am I right?"

"It's got a few small incendiary charges. As for the ICE and encryption, I'm not sure, but it's very likely. Think anyone down in C-Sec labs can crack this?"

"If we're talking STG level security then...no. Any clues as to what the password is?"

"None. I'd ask Lawson, but..." Jensen shrugged. He had intended on bringing in him in alive and conscious, but that last punch has caused enough trauma to Lawson's brain to send him into a coma (Pallin was not exaggerating). Of course, it's not like Lawson would have been cooperative anyways.

"Then we have no choice but to give this to the Spectres. They might be able to crack it, and it's now their case, after all.

Jensen took the Omni-Tool before Pallin could. "Yeah...I don't think I want to share this - or my theory - with the Spectres."

Pallin glared at him. "Jensen, I wasn't asking."

"Let's suppose the Spectres find just enough evidence to implicate the Alliance. What then?"

Pallin leaned back into his chair and sighed. Spirits, did he ever hate talking about politics. "They'll report to the Council that humanity is experimenting with Artificial Intelligence to create infiltrators and assassins. The Council would cut off all diplomatic ties with Earth and its colonies and would impose severe economic sanctions. The Council doesn't screw around when it comes to AIs."

"And do you really think Earth is just going to sit back and take it? Let's be honest here: It's going to mean war."

"Humanity hasn't got the military power required to take down the entire Hierachy's Navy, Jensen...They wouldn't dare." As he uttered the words, Pallin knew he wasn't terribly convinced of their veracity.

"There are more ways to fight a war. How many Turians soldiers and sailors died at Shanxi, Pallin?

Pallin didn't answer.

"How many, Pallin?"

"Too many." he said as he covered his face with his hand. "Too many to starvation. Too many to poisoned food. Too many under the heels of walking tanks. Too many to the tricks of Yan Lo and his damned Shadow Fleet..." Pallin understood what Jensen was saying. Things would get bloody fast. The Humans could be just as unyielding as the Turians, as powerful as the Asari, or as insidious as the Salarians. It didn't matter who would win: the death toll would rival the Krogan Rebellions.

_They might even become desperate enough to make more soldiers like Jensen. _The thought being whispered in the back of Pallin's mind was horrifying.

"As you've said," continued Jensen. "The Council thinks in incomplete, racialist terms. They'll just punish all of humanity instead of punishing those responsible... Unless I bring them the full picture, there will be nothing but a bloodbath, and absolutely no justice. I have to investigate this myself, and neither the Council nor the Spectres can be made aware of it."

"You're asking me to lie to the Council, Jensen. I can't do that."

"You'll have to. It's either a lie and peace, or the truth and war."

Pallin sighed, and for a while minute, he said absolutely nothing. Then he typed on his laptop.

"You and Garrus have got 6 months of paid vacation time saved up. I suggest you _both_ take advantage of it -"

"Pallin!"

"- and whatever you two do during that time is... _absolutely none of my concern... _Do you understand?"

"Yeah...I understand."

"Excellent." Pallin swiveled his chair around, turning his back to Jensen, and got back to admiring the moving lights of the Wards. "You're dismissed, Sergeant."

As Jensen turned to leave, Pallin said one last thing. "Jensen...if the Spectres come for you and you don't -or can't -cooperate with them...I won't be able to help you. Keep that in mind."

"I know." said Jensen as he left the office.

When the door closed behind him, Pallin muttered: "Good luck."

_**~[h+]~**_

At his apartment, Jensen put his damp clothes in the washing machine save for his leather coat (it was waterproofed), and took a quick shower, just to get the faint scent of..._washroom_ off of him. He put on a similar outfit than the last (only with a black tie), ate a quick meal, and focused his attention on his _Onyx B4_ body armour laying on his work table. When he had saved Tali from the fall, Jensen's Icarus landing system had completely misaligned the element zero micro-cores and fried its projectile sensors. The boys at Maintenance had just finished repairing the damage and the hardened the suits electronic components again electromagnetic emissions. Jensen chided himself for not picking it up before confronting Lawson: The torso protector would have come in handy when the agent started kneeing him in the abdomen.

And then he chided himself for the confrontation itself. He could have simply followed Lawson and spied on him, eavesdrop on him as he communicated with his superiors... but he had gone in there practically hoping for a fight. Why? Jensen pondered on the answer for a bit, and realized that he wanted to beat Lawson into a coma because he hated what he represented.

Humanity.

Or at least, humanity as the rest of the galaxy saw it. Young and arrogant, demanding and insulting... Powerful and dangerous. Jensen had to deal with all kinds of human stupidity since he left Elysium, mostly from Udina, and Lawson expecting that Jensen would assist him after calling for his arrest was the straw that broke the camel's back.

Another thought popped into his head. Would he have beaten Lawson into unconsciousness if he had been a woman? Walker - No, _Brea_ - was young, arrogant and hadn't exactly been diplomatic on their first meeting...Well, actually, she had tried, but Jensen has insulted her 'perfume' and got her to drop all pretense. After _that,_ she had made his opinions about him pretty clear.

...

_"Maybe I should have approached you that way." taunted Walker. "Knock at your apartment door drenched in rain water, my clothes torn, my body shivering, my eyes red and my lip quivering... I suspect you'd have caught the killer in minutes had I put on my battered housewife routine."_

...

Jensen wondered if Brea was right: that he was an outdated fossil not just in body but also in spirit. He wondered if he would have felt more at home in the Middle ages as a knight-errant, rescuing a damsel in distress from some dark armored fiend. They'd would have written songs about his deeds and sung them all over Europe back then... but then Jensen shook his head, reminding himself that he probably would have hated the Middle Ages. Knights went to war for some lord's dispute with another, the women never bathed, the medicine was barbaric, and everyone and everything was covered in _shit._

The phone rang. It was Garrus, calling from his hospital room.

"Jensen here," Adam answered. "Getting better?"

_"Oh yeah, the docs told me they got all the panacea cysts in my lungs and wanted to keep me in for observation, but then I get an email from Personnel saying that my application for paid vacation time went through."_

"But of course you never sent any application, right?"

_"Nope. I asked Pallin about it and he told me to talk to you. So what's going on?"_

"I don't think I should be talking about this over the phone."

_"Really? Well, okay then. Let's meet somewhere; staying in for observation is more a suggestion anyways...and I can't stand the hospital food."_

"I don't want to risk you getting sick...I should just drop in."

_"Bah, If I was in any real danger the docs would have told me so. Warsaw Diner in half an hour sound good?"_

"Yeah, s-" Jensen's door bell rang. "I gotta go, someone's at the door. Warsaw in half an hour, got it."

_"See ya then." _said Garrus, and the connection closed.

Jensen being Jensen, he always used his Smart-Vision before answering the door... It always paid to know if your visitor was armed, after all. The six foot tall woman standing behind the door was indeed armed, but...

"No, it can't be..." Jensen immediately opened the door, revealing Sarah Walker (aka Aya Brea), wet, shivering and barefoot, dressed in a hospital gown that smelled of disinfectant and a old, torn raincoat that stank of piss and booze. She looked like hell, and still came off as attractive...even as she almost fainted, stumbled and fell forward in Jensen's arms. She managed to groan out a warning:

"Blacklight...Twelve of them...They're coming!"

_**~[h+]~**_

This was the part that Sergeant Xander Cross loved the most: cornering his prey. His Blacklight squad was composed of twelve patriots (himself included) dedicated to eliminating the enemies of humanity lurking in the shadows, handpicked from the finest marines in the Alliance Navy. Their names were known only to themselves, their identities removed from all records. They wore dull, black and unmarked personally customized heavy armour to ensure their survival, and carried the finest weapons humanity had to offer. As a final proof of their devotion, they were fitted with a set acid injector implants, designed to completely destroy their bodies to ensure that their bodies would not be taken by the enemy. Even dead men could tell tales, these days...

Right now, they were busy securing the building and cutting off any escape route that this Brea could take. Why she came here of all places, Cross had no idea. The building obviously wasn't trapped, and the security was laughable, so a last stand was out of the question.

_Something's not quite right here_, Cross thought to himself as he put on the black bucket the eggheads liked to call the Command Helmet. Where it not for the sensors that dotted the featureless black ceramic, Cross wouldn't be able to see a goddamned thing. The augmented reality display reported the health and shield status of his eleven men. One hundred percent on all counts.

His team, Team 1, secured the main Lobby. Team 2 went up the elevator to the seventh floor, where the it had stopped last. Since no one but that Vat-grown monster went in the building, and no one came out, it was logical to assume that was where she was hiding out. The plan was to go through every apartment on the floor to find and capture her.

Team 3's job was to keep the fire escape secure. Once Team 2 captured Brea, or somehow the whole mission went FUBAR, their job would be to go up the stairs and set up a Flash-pack in the building's main ventilation system. Plasma fire would pour into every room, _sanitizing_ the place, ensuring no one knew Blacklight was here.

There would be no witnesses. They might even manage to put the blame on the Batarians... Everybody hated them, after all. Perfect scapegoats.

_"Team 3 reporting, some kid wanted to take out the garbage."_

"Did he see you?" asked Cross.

_"Well...Yeah."_

"Is he human?"

_"Nope. Kittybird."_

"You know what to do. No witnesses."

_"Roger that. Sorry kid. This just ain't your lucky day."_ A scream of protest, a silenced gun blast, and then nothing but the sound of the acid round's payload eating at flesh came through on the Command Helmet's internal speakers. "_Witness sanitized._" said Team 2's leader.

"Sir," said Cross' second in command, the gearhead of the group. He was typing at the receptionist's desktop computer (said receptionist, a Salarian, was lying in a puddle of smoking flesh). "I've disabled the cameras, the wireless and landline comms, and wiped the hard drives as you asked, but before I did pulled up a list of the people that live here...One of them is Adam Jensen."

"Ah...that makes sense." said Cross to himself. "Looks like she turned to her knight in shining armour for help. What apartment is he in?"

"Room 451, sir, fifth floor."

"Black Lead to Team 2, are you on the seventh floor?"

_"Team 2 Leader here, we just got here...goddamned Citadel elevators are so goddamned slow - They're on linear rails for fuck's sake!"_

"Quit your bitching... go back down to the fifth floor, the target is probably recruiting the aid of Adam Jensen. Be warned, Jensen is covered head to toe in CNT, can cloak at will, and can see you through walls and in the dark. He favors non-lethal tactics, but use caution anyways...your sanitizer implants won't care if you're dead or just napping."

_"Ugh... another long ride down. Roger that, Black Lead, moving down...Hey boss man! That Brea is one fine piece of ass, if her pictures are anything to go by... thing me and the men could, you know..."_

"...Pull a train on her?" Cross frowned. "You do realize we're in the middle of an op against a killer robot, right?"

_"Exactly! You can't rape a **machine**, sir. Or whatever the fuck she is..."_

Cross was genuinely disgusted that Black 5 would actually consider putting his dick inside that thing. "Just focus on the mission, _idiot_."

_"I knew there was a reason I loved you, **sir**." _Team 2's leader said sarcastically, and Cross thought that boy was overdue for some flogging. "_Oh well! I still get to kill Adam motherfucking Jensen today! I'm gonna take one of his arms as a souvenir. What do you want as a souvenir, Nine? The eyes? The shades?"_

_Black nine, the third team's leader, ignored Black five."Team 3 lead here, sir... Didn't Jensen take down Lawson? The agent's a Biotic Bastion - practically invincible..."_

Team 2's leader laughed. _"HA! Lawson ain't us! We're Blacklight, not some magical pretty boy! This is going to be __**easy**__, man!"_

_"Yeah well...I'd feel better if we had an Exo-Suit on this op, now. Or a Wanzer."_

_"That shit won't fit in the stealth pod, you know that..." _All of a sudden, Five resumed his professional demeanor. "_Ah, we're on the fifth floor now, sir. Coming up on door 451...Black 6 and 7, stack up on that door. Permission to breach and clear, sir?"_

Cross didn't think breaching the door would be worth the attention. Screaming civies would alert someone. "Nah, hack the door, go in quiet."

_"Roger that, hacking door...Door's open, going in... switching to EM vision. There's Brea nice and asleep...but no sign of Jensen in the living room. Everyone clear the apartment."_

_"Bedroom's clear."_ said Six.

_"Bathroom's clear,"_ reported Seven.

_"Kitchen's-"_ A loud bang came through Eight's mic, then nothing at all. His status window went red - KIA.

_"FUCK! HE'S ON THE CEIL-"_ Bang. Team 2's leader flatlined.

_"I see him, I see him! die you augAAAARGH-"_ Black 6 flatlined.

_"Oh no oh no oh god oh god, please PLEASE NOOOO-"_ Cross heard a distinct slicing noise, and Black 7 flatlined.

Four of the finest men in the Alliance military, killed in six seconds... This mission had officially gone to hell. Cross said nothing for what felt like an eternity, and then: "Team 3," said Cross. "Flash pack the place. We're leaving."

"_Roger that, sir! Everyone, we're going up to sanitize the place, move it! move it!_"

_"Sir? There's an EM spike above us! It's Oh SHIT!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

As Jensen fell into the gap between the stairs with his head upside down, his nearly useless Icarus system blinding the men in black armour, he triggered his Quicksilver and fanned Sasha's hammer four times, hitting each soldier in the neck with one of Amnon's special explosive rounds, and their armoured buckets for heads popped off. He twisted and landed on his feet and free hand. Above him was the sound of Flesh being eaten by acid, but he wondered where the smell of it came from... He stood up...and saw the molten figure of a turian boy next to a garbage bag. He was almost unrecognizable, but it definitely was Atia's son, Mettius... He was looking forward to his fifteenth birthday, when he'd have to join the military. He often pestered Adam for war stories and about his mechanical hands, thinking he lost his real ones in a war. He wasn't entirely wrong.

Jensen silently loaded four more of Amnon's Specials into Sasha. There would be blood for this.

_**~[h+]~**_

In the lobby, Team 1 heard a door opening down the main hall. Before that, they had heard the report of chemical rounds, muffled by the thick concrete. Cross wondered why the residents weren't coming out of their apartments to check out the noise, and then remembered that Aliens probably never heard a chemical gun blast in their entire lives: just the whine and flash-hiss of mass accelerators.

"Sir, that came from the stairs." said Black Two.

"I know. Team 3 is gone." said Cross, flatly. "Three and Four, Stack up on that hallway. Two, you're with me. You're going to scan for him."

"...Sir, weren't we-"

"That's and order, soldier. Move out." There was no point in escaping now. Eight men dead and nothing to show for it? Their superiors would have their heads. Might as well try and bring them Jensen's...

Cross and Two slowly made their way to the staircase's door, with Two keeping an eye on his Omni-Tool, looking for anything out of the ordinary. They were half way there when Three and Four flatlined.

Black Two completely lost his shit. It wasn't supposed to be this way: "How did he get behind us?! Oh god...We're all gonna die here!"

Cross ignored him, keeping his gun pointed down the hall, towards the main lobby. "Keep an eye on your Omni-Tool, damn you!"

But Two wasn't keeping an eye on his Omni-Tool, and when Jensen dropped behind him from the air vent above, he barely felt the arm blade enter his heart. Two let out a death rattle, and Jensen kicked him in the back and right into Cross. Knowing that Two's acid charges would kick in, Cross pushed him off and brought his rifle to bear on Jensen, who was now standing above him. _How did he get to me so quickly?_ thought the Blacklight sergeant as Jensen kicked his weapon away. Crawled away and went for his pistol, and then Jensen kicked that one away too. All he had left were his LAMs, but before he count even THINK of going suicide bomber, Jensen grabbed him by the neck with one arm, removed all his explosives and tore off his helmet's faceplate with the other. Cross only had one thing left to do now. _He laughed_:

"Heheheh...my men, you didn't even try to take them alive! So much for you being a pacifist - urkh!" Cross gurgled as Jensen squeezed his neck a little harder.

"Do I _look_ like a man of _peace_ to you right now?" Jensen's voice was low and menacing. He spoke as he walked all the way to the lobby. "Your men had it coming. I know something about wetwork teams...and their ideas of 'collateral damage' and 'acceptable civilian losses'."

"We're patriots!" Cross spat. "We do what's necessary to keep humanity safe!"

"Yeah...That's what they all say."

"Can you say the same about Brea?! Do you know how many men and women and children SHE has killed, just to line her pockets? Nah, she just quivered her lips at you and that was enough to fill you with rage and start with the self-righteous killing! I killed for the sake of my nation! You just killed eleven men for the sake of PUSSY!"

"And I killed twelve men for the sake of Mettius."

"What? Wait, no! NoooOOO-"

Jensen threw Cross through the thick polarized glass of the inner door, and then Cross's back broke against the thicker glass of the outer door. The trauma triggered Cross's acid implants as he fell onto the outside walkway, and he melted before the eyes of passers-by, who screamed and panicked and immediately called for C-Sec.

There would be many witnesses.

_**~[h+]~**_

When he heard over the news that Jensen's apartment building had been attacked by twelve unidentified mercs, Garrus had bolted for the Warsaw Diner's door without ordering anything, but stopped once he got a call from Jensen himself, telling him to stay put and wait for him to pick him up.

That was why Garrus was waiting outside the diner in the fake rain (_damn those floating sprinkler cisterns_, thought Garrus) for his partner. After a few minutes of waiting, Jensen's Spinner landed nearby. The passenger's door opened, and inside Jensen beckoned his partner to get in. Garrus got inside the vintage car, happy to get away from the spray. Thank goodness his Agent mk I was waterproof.

He was just about to ask what the hell was going on when he saw Walker lying down on the backseat in a hospital gown and Jensen's favorite blue coat wrapped over her like a sheet. She was feverish and shivering, her brow covered in a cold sweat, and barely conscious.

"What in the... Is that Walker?" Garrus closed the passenger door. "What's wrong with her?"

"From she's been able to tell me," said Jensen as he drove around nowhere in particular, "and it's not a lot, the hospital gave her the wrong kind of blood plasma and it's making her sicker instead of better."

"Well then let's take her back! I'm sure they can fix the problem."

"It's not that simple...I don't think normal medicine will work on her: She's not really human."

Garrus took another look at her. "She looks plenty human to me..."

"Yeah, about that... let me bring you up to speed on current events..." After a few minutes to relay the events of the past day, Jensen finished with: "...And now here I am driving around randomly with a sick robot woman in the back of my car and a locked up AIA Omni-Tool burning a hole in my pocket and no idea what to do next."

Garrus threw his hands up in mock exasperation."Aw, damnit! I knew this paid vacation thing was too good to be true. Couldn't be just some good fortune, no, Pallin wants me to take down an Alliance conspiracy. _Fantastic!_"

"...You're free to bail out if you want."

"What? Hells no! I'm not letting you take on those murderers by yourself! I'm in."

"Thanks...I was kind of hoping you'd be able to give me some suggestions? I'm kind of at a loss as to what to do, now."

"Well, the way I see it, we need to get Wa- I mean, _Brea -_ some medical help, and then get this AIA tool cracked. The former I'm at a loss... as for the second, well... how about Tali'Zorah? If she can extract data from a Geth memory core then I'm sure she can manage to do the same to an Omni-Tool..."

"Problem: she works for Hein, now."

"Does she? Huh, must've missed that part when you snuck aboard his ship." _It must have been when I gave that Serpent a try,_ thought Garrus. _That was a fun gun to fire. Pretty accurate, too._ _Too bad the only ones that would get to use it were the boys and girls in Special Response. _Just then, something occurred to him. "You know, I don't think that's actually a problem: Hein's got this thing for weird science, right? Who better to fix a Bioroid than him?"

"No!..." protested Brea, weak and delirious. "He'll...he'll cut me apart. They always cut me apart...I'll be good...I promise...ah..."

"...Well, that settles that." said Jensen. "The Durendal's out of the question. We'll contact Zorah some other way."

Garrus shook his head. "Look, if we take Brea to the hospital, the docs screw up, and she dies. If they manage to save her. Those 'Blacklight' goons find her in her hospital bed, and she dies-

"-I killed them all."

"There could be _more_, and we can't endanger the public. You KNOW what happens when we get into a firefight. We do nothing, and she dies. The Durendal's our best hope right now."

"And he's supposed to do that for free?!" snapped Jensen. "We've got nothing he wants!"

"We'll work something out! It's worth a shot, damnit!"

Jensen looked at one of his hands, and clenched into a tight fist. Garrus would have given up a lot just to hear what Jensen was thinking at that very moment, but he could guess it was a painful memory. Finally, Jensen said, "I just...I just hate dealing with his _kind._" The bitterness in his voice was palpable.

Brea coughed up blood, and Jensen put his foot on the accelerator. The decision had already been made. "Goddammit..."

_**~[h+]~**_

In the cargo bay of the Durendal, Hein stood in the middle of the entry ramp, sucking in the artificial air. He honestly wished the floating cistern spraying water towards the wars would spray some rain his way, but Alas! the cisterns didn't pass over the docks that poked out of the Presidium Ring. Oh well.

Hein actually got a kick out of breathing the Citadel's air: after all, all it took was one catastrophic failure of the station's artificial gravity systems and the atmospheric bubble that wrapped the station would just pop, and everyone outside would be sucking vacuum in a matter of minutes. The idea made breathing _exciting_!

Neil Fleming, The Deep Eyes' designated marksman and their pilot (pressed in the role of the Durendal's helmsman) walked besides Hein and took a deep breath. "Ah, smell that fake, artificial air... Tali says that the drive core won't be giving us any problems and Ryan's got the supplies loaded up. We're ready to go to Caleston on your word, sir."

"Hm hm..." Hein barely paid any attention to what the pilot said.

"Are... are we waiting for something, sir?"

"Passengers."

"...We're taking passengers, now?" Neil scratched his head, confused. "Are they paying fare?

"Oh, they don't know they're passengers yet. But they'll be here in about...10, 9...

Hein counted down from ten to one, and then a Vintage aircar painted in blue approached the Durendal, bypassing the space port building completely.

"And, there they are. Get the other Deep Eyes, and make sure they come bearing Serpents," ordered Hein.

Neil acknowledged the order, ran in, whistled, and before long four heavily armed (if a mite unarmored) marines flanked Colonel Hein. The car flew under the nose of the Durendal, and parked itself not ten meters away from the cargo bay's entrance. Out of that car came the infamous Adam Jensen and his equally storied partner Garrus Vakarian. They pulled out of the rear seat a blonde woman clad only in a hospital gown and a dark blue leather coat. Jensen carried her bridal style while Vakarian took the lead. The trio approached the cargo ramp, and the turian flashed his badge.

"Garrus Vakarian, C-Sec. It's an emergency: We need to make use of your medical facilities."

Hein smiled and said simply: "Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... No."

For a second there Vakarian was at a loss. "... Do I need to show the badge - I think I'll show you the badge again - You see this badge? That means that when an officer of the law asks for your assistance you..."

"I am well versed in the law, Mister Vakarian. I am also aware that unless you have a search warrant I have every right to deny you entry... Unless of course you're Spectres. _Are_ you Spectres, hm?"

Vakarian sighed. If it hadn't been for his father... "No, we're not Spectres."

"Hm-hm, And not only that I have _every_ reason to deny you entry, with no less than oh... two? three? Blacklight squads nipping at your friend's heels, and all that. I'd _prefer_ not give the AIA cause to give me trouble."

"And how did you know about that?" asked Jensen.

"A little bird told me." answered Hein with a shrug, "They also told me that SHE..." he pointed a finger at Brea. "...sent a cyborg to steal from me! You wouldn't know anything about THAT, now would you?" He lightly shoved Vakarian aside and strolled casually up to Jensen and Brea, and took a good look at the sick woman. "Ah, Mrs. McKay. Or was it Royce? Or Veronica? So many different names..."

"Brea," said Jensen, his voice neutral, betraying almost no anger. Brea was wheezing now, barely aware of her surroundings. She didn't have long...

"Ah yes, _that's_ her favorite. A rare animal, this one. Proud, and regal and strong and...brought low by disease, like the lions of pre-collapse earth. Did you know I am a good friend of her employer? She could have come to me for help any time she wished but she just. Wouldn't. Trust me. Isn't that right, Brea?"

Brea simply wheezed again in response. The sight of her greying, veined face made something inside Jensen crack...

"Oh, tsk tsk tsk... she doesn't have long, now, does she?" said Hein in fake empathy. He eyed Jensen meaningfully. "This soon-to be corpse... she makes you feel something, yes? I just to _have_ to know what you're feeling."

Jensen clenched his teeth. "How do you _think_ I feel, right now?"

"Oh ho-ho! So you DO feel something for this... soft machine, don't you? Does it break your heart to see... _it_, like this? Does your soul die with its every straining breath? Does your heart fill to bursting with righteous fury as I dangle the elixir that can save its life in front of your face like a cruel child? Because I CAN save her, you know. The evil wizard can make your princess all better... But guess what? There's a price for everything, Mister Jensen, and I do NOT come cheap."

"...Name your price."

"Jensen!" protested Vakarian. "You were right! To the hells with this asshole, we can-"

"My price, Mister Jensen, is _you_." answered Hein as he put his hands on the sides of Jensen's head. "And what's inside your _mind_. For you see you've taken something precious from me, but instead of driving you completely mad it has taken root, and that makes you a very, VERY valuable specimen." He let go of Jensen. "Decide quickly, Brea's life hangs in the balance!"

At that moment Jensen felt he had been manipulated into this very moment, this very situation. He felt trapped, as if all of his avenues of escape had been barred. He felt as if he had no choice.

_"There's always a choice, son. Always more than one option."_ Adam recalled his father telling him, a century and a half ago. _"Yes, or no. Either, Neither, or Both. The trick is, you have to make the __**right**__ one, the choice that helps everyone..."_

"...You have a deal."

Hein smiled as the devil did when he savored a fresh soul, "...Fantastic!" He motioned the Deep Eyes to stand down. "Officers, Walk with me, Would you kindly? Mister Fleming! Tell Ms. Zorah to warm up the fusion drive and get to the helm, we're leaving!" Hein activated his Wrist Halo and spoke into it. "Dr Ross? Prep the infirmary: we've got a Bioroid to fix!"

_**~[h+]~**_

In the captain's quarters aboard the Normandy, Anderson sat at his desk, staring at his desktop computer's camera. Before that he had stared into an empty page on a word processor, trying to come up with the words that would gently break the news to Alenko's family that he had died at the hands of... something. C-Sec had not been forthcoming in the details, citing restrictions due to the Citadel Official Secrets Act. Pallin had taken him aside and shared with him that the killer had been dealt with once and for all, but that was all that he could share with him, and that's was all Anderson would be able to share with Alenko's parents and his two sisters.

It wasn't enough, and he knew it.

Anderson had met Alenko's family last year, when Kaidan had invited both he and Shepard over for a Christmas eve dinner. His father was a big, happy boisterous bear of a man, who could not stop talking about how proud he was of his son and the fine warrior woman he had claimed for a bride. His kindly if fussy mother doted on everyone at the table, making sure that they had sampled at least one of every dish (and there were many). His two sisters were barely out of their teens, and Shepard had a grand time sharing embarrassing stories of Alenko's misadventures in the military with them.

Anderson pictured them all, weeping over a closed casket, and the thought broke his heart. He threw the computer against the wall in frustration, believing that no words he could type onto it or say into it would be enough for the Alenkos. They had a right to know why and how their son died, and the damned council had denied him the answers.

A chime, and Navigator Pressly's voice echoed in the darkened room. "Sir? There's some Salarian Spectre by the name of Jondum Bau here to speak with you. He's waiting for you in the conference room."

Anderson leaned back against his chair, sighing as he rubbed his eyelids. "Any idea what he wants?"

"I think he's... commandeering the ship, sir."

Anderson couldn't leave his quarters fast enough. What the hell was going on?

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen waited patiently at Hein's desk, wondering exactly what he had gotten himself into and how he could get out of it. He considered punching out the whole crew, but he realized he didn't know how to fly a US navy cruiser, and the ship was now well on its way to the Relay.

The place had been cleaned up

He heard a thud behind him, and then the door opened. Jensen turned around and saw Hein, rubbing the pain from his nose as he walked up to his desk and sat down. "Ow," he said. "stupid door NEVER works right. Wait a minute, how'd YOU get in here?"

"You told me to wait in your office."

"I told you to wait AT my office not- oh never mind it's not important." Hein sniffled. "Dr Ross is monitoring Brea's status, but she expects she'll recover and regain consciousness in about three days." Hein leaned back against his cushy chair and rubbed his hands. "Now, as for the matter of my repayment..."

"Fine. Is it my turn to go on the operating table?"

"Oh? Whatever for?"

"So you can cut open my head and take out my wet drives?"

Hein looked at Jensen, dead serious for about two seconds before he started laughing.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahahahaha..." He wiped a tear off his eye. "Ooooh man. You're actually serious." He chuckled a bit, and then: "Please, mister Jensen, believe it or not we've made _some_ advances in cybernetics since 2028...All I want you to do, is that when it's your nappy time, you report to Dr Ross. She'll give you a special sedative that will guarantee you eight hours of REM sleep, and she'll set you up in a Dream Catcher that will stimulate your memories of when you plugged in to the Soulcatcher. Don't worry - She's an expert at using the machine. You won't feel a thing."

Eight hours of nightmares. Eight hours of some amoral Howard Hughes wannabe poking inside his unconscious thoughts. He almost preferred being cut open.

"So that's it? You did this whole Bond villain song and dance and put a woman's life in danger to get me to your infirmary and _sleep_?"

"Well, now that you put it that way that does sound a like too little a compensation for my services, doesn't it? What I'm also interested in is both your talents as an agent and your construction. I have some hardware I'd like to field test and you'll be the perfect-"

"-Guinea pig."

"Hm... More like crash test dummy. Tell me, how does a Shinkawa Model-108 sound to you?"

"...I have no idea what that is."

"Oh you'll love it! It's a powered hard-suit, lined with CNT muscle fibers and fitted with no less than 24 separate kinetic barrier projectors and an integrated Omni-gel fabricator system..." He winced. "Problem is the performance is too much to handle for a normal human being and anyone that tries wearing the thing inevitably gets mangled. Since your bones are made of a reinforced titanium alloy, I suspect you'll have a better chance of getting the VI to calibrate itself properly to human's movements... But of course, that's only a secondary goal."

"There's a primary goal? I'm confused, here."

"Ah! of course, silly me." Hein fished out a dossier. "Do you know where we're headed? Never mind, I'll just tell you: We are currently on course for the lovely backwater of Caleston to find and rescue..." He slid the dossier over to Jensen "... This lovely young Asari."

Jensen picked up the dossier, and foremost amongst sheets of digital paper were the side and front pictures of a pale-white Asari Maiden. Her alabaster skin was flushed with the reddish-purple color of Asari blood, and her eyes, surrounded by darkened irises and black eyelashes, were the color of raspberries, with a lighter shade of red for the irises. The tentacles on her crest were longer than usual, with the two closest to the temples curling around the ear-holes and tickled her jaw, while the rest covered her nape. The name printed on the digital paper read as such:

_Manah T'soni._

"Who is this?" asked Jensen, confused. She was strangely beautiful... but something just wasn't right about her.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Manah T'soni." said Jondum Bau again, answering Captain Anderson.

Anderson was still trying to process what he had just been told. Both Junko and Kaidan had been murdered by a machine imitation of a human being, and Jensen (bless the man's heart) had hunted down the machine and retired it a great risk to himself and his partner. The Council believed that 'Nielsen' was a fusion of Geth and Prothean technology, and they wanted to stop Saren from getting his hands on more Prothean relics, or at least making sure he couldn't figure out the ones he already had: the man was, apparently, an avid collector. When Anderson had been told the name of the expert he and Jondum Bau were to extract out of Caleston, the thoughts echoing in his had drowned out her name, and he had asked: "I'm sorry, who?"

"Daughter of Matriarch Benezia T'soni," continued Bau as he continued his holographic presentation, "the woman seen at Saren's side during his grand speech before the Eden's Prime attack. Doctor T'soni has made some very interesting observations on Prothean relics. Her expertise on Prothean art has allowed her to identify actual devices from what other archaeologists have dismissed as statues or artwork. Because of her relationship with her mother, we suspect Benezia will try and recruit her in Saren's organization. My mission - and by extension, yours - is to secure T'soni and deny him that potential asset."

"It's good to know the Council is doing _something._" said Anderson, bitterly. "So, it's a simple milk run close to the Terminus, I can see why you need the Normandy."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple. You see..."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Caleston's main colony hub is run by the RedWater Mining Corporation," said Hein. "And if you read anything about them, you'd know that's it is run by a bunch of corrupt fuck-ups. And in _a lovely example of history repeating itself,_ the workers rebelled and now Caleston has no central government whatsoever. The leader behind the uprising died, and now the whole Hub is run by gangs. It's calm now, but the place is divided and it won't be long before hostilities flare up. Not a good place to be if you're a hundred and four years old Asari Maiden."

"Why are you so interested in her?"

"Did you ever wonder why all we can get out of the Prothean Beacons is just the most basic principles of Mass Effect fields? That's because it's the simplest thing a sentient mind can handle... and that alone tends to drive anyone that interfaces with a Beacon completely bonkers. The wealth of information that we've found in the Mars cache remains untapped because everything else on it is just too damned complex... or so current wisdom claims. T'soni may very well be able to provide me with the insight necessary to pull the TRUE secrets of the Protheans from the archives found on Mars."

"Alright, but that doesn't explain why you need me to help. You've got four soldiers."

Hein winced. "Eh, the Deep Eyes? Make no mistake - they're _excellent_ soldiers, but their talents lie in killing, not saving people. If the Deep Eyes go in there they might very well spark another bloodbath and T'soni will be caught up in it. You on the other hand... Your first instincts are to be discreet and preserve life, and you've got the training, the skills, and the experience to pull off a rescue with minimal bloodshed."

_**~[h+]~**_

Jondum Bau continued: "The Normandy's logistical support will prove invaluable should things take a turn for the worse. Its complement of drones will provide reconnaissance and close air support, and its long range armaments will deal with anything heavier than a Geth... what did you call them?"

"Juggernauts," answered Anderson.

"Yes, Juggernauts." Finally, you will provide me with a fireteam of your best marines for assistance."

"That's a lot of demands, there... Are you expecting a war?"

"Nihlus' mistake was not expecting one, and I do not intend to follow him to the grave. Do you have a problem with my demands? I would think that the chance to thwart Saren Arterius would be...compensation enough?"

"...And you would be right. Almost. I have one condition."

"...Fair enough. Name it."

"I get to accompany you on the ground."

"I... was not aware that Human ship captains took part in groundside missions. Is this some kind of Human naval tradition?"

Anderson shrugged. "It worked for Starfleet."

Bau became confused. "I don't know what that is."

"Never mind, it was a bad joke."

"I see. In any case, between your N7 training, experience and your Spectre candidacy, I doubt you'll be a hindrance. Your condition is fair, I accept." Jondum held out his hand. "I look forward to working with you, Captain Anderson."

Anderson shook his hand. "Likewise. I'll order my helmsman to set course for Caleston immediately."

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen still had one issue to address. "I have one condition-"

"The Turian?" asked Hein.

"_Garrus Vakarian_, yes. I want him watching my back on this op."

"Hm, I'd much rather you took on this operation with my stealth specialist. You've met her. Ponytail, likes knives?"

"...Your bodyguard."

"Yes. Jane Proudfoot is as quiet as a mouse and knows how to stay out of sight: she will have no problem keeping up with you in the dark. On the other hand, the Deep Eyes' designated marksman, Neil Fleming, will be preoccupied with flying the Copperhead, so they'll be needing someone to take his place. I'm thinking Mr Vakarian will be more than adequate for the job?"

"...There's nobody better."

"Then there you have it! He'll pull his own weight around the ship and I won't have to toss him out of the airlock! So, to sum it up: Room, board, transportation and healthcare for you and your friends, in exchange you give me your body (for science, naturally) and your services, and as a bonus _I_ get a high-caliber marksman and _you_ get to play Don Quixote! Everybody wins!" Hein held out his hand. "Do we have accord, mister Jensen?"

Jensen looked at Hein's hand as if he was eyeing a venomous snake, but shook it anyway. There were now two lives depending on him cooperating with Hein, after all.

"Excellent!" exclaimed Hein. "I can feel this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship, mark my words!"

_**~[h+]~**_

In the dark reaches of the Terminus systems floated the _Sovereign, _and deep within the mighty vessel sat Saren, meditating in the Shrine. The orb's voices whispered in Saren's mind, promising the power to take revenge on the race that had taken so much from him... If only he'd let them in.

If only...

No.

He would not surrender all of his will to them.

He could feel Benezia's presence behind him. She had something to tell him, something important, and he pressed a button, wrapping the huge dark sphere in a thick layer of liquid metal. Benezia politely cleared her throat, and he swiveled his chair, turning to face her.

"My lord," said Benezia, taking a short bow out of humility, "My spies have confirmed Manah's presence on Caleston. The University has called upon the Justicars to... loan them my daughter for her insights. They have found something that confounds them."

"What sort of artifact? A beacon?"

"An obelisk of unbreakable alabaster, engraved with bas-reliefs and decorated with silver insets. It does not emit the energies of a Beacon, and attempts to interface with it has yielded no success."

In other words, of no use to him. Still, Saren wished he could personally see to this extraction, if only to lay claim to this artifact... On the other hand, the map to the Shibboleth was still being deciphered, and the five Grimoires had already been gathered, their secrets yet to be uncovered. Satisfying his curiosity and his greed simply was not worth waking the Council from its slumber. A shame. "Hmph, no matter. I take it you wish to fetch her yourself?"

"I do. I do not trust that Wreav's Krogan will be able to contain her. Only _I_ can do it."

"Are you certain of that? You two did not leave on the most amicable of terms."

Benezia said nothing, betraying nothing of her feelings for her wayward daughter.

"Go, but take the Mask," commanded Saren, "just to be certain. Oh... and once she is under your thrall? See about bringing me this artifact. If nothing else it would be a welcome addition to my collection. If not, well... a pity. Let _nothing_ distract you from bringing her to me. Take as many Geth platforms as you need. Destroy everything that gets in your way and kill anyone that dares pursue you."

"As you wish, my Lord." Benezia bowed and took her leave.

Saren leaned back into his chair and relaxed. The only person that could have stopped him was dead, thanks to his allies, and soon he would have the means to unlock the true secrets of the Protheans. The Conduit would be his, and revenge would at last be within his grasp!

"Soon, brother." Saren said to the darkness, hoping that Desolas' spirit was listening to him, somehow. "Soon I will make the humans **pay**."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: COUNCIL SPACE: WAR: THE RETAKING OF SHANXI<p>

Shortly after General Williams surrendered Shanxi to the Turians after days of orbital bombardments, the Turian occupying force suddenly found its supply lines (along with its patrols) constantly attacked by what appeared to be an invisible pirate force, and several of their frigates had disappeared without a trace. A month later, the Turians over and above Shanxi were facing the prospect of starving to death. When several of their supply freighters returned under mysterious circumstances, the desperate, starving crews immediately distributed the food, which turned out to have been laced with a nearly undetectable time-delayed poison that killed hundreds of Turian soldiers. Having become suspicious of their food, many more began to suffer from malnutrition, and some even died of starvation. When a small fleet of reinforcements came in from Palaven along with even more supplies, it found itself under attack by captured turian frigates on suicide runs and was nearly destroyed. Many an officer wondered who was responsible for this catastrophe.

The answer: Admiral Yan Lo of the Coalition Star Force. While the Alliance parliament was busy convincing the governments of Earth to marshal a response to the Turian policing action of Relay 314, Yan Lo, eager to prove his theories on space warfare using Snowblind particles, gathered a fleet of forty frigates and one command cruiser, and immediately set out to begin a campaign of intelligence gathering and asymmetrical warfare that threw the Shanxi occupation fleet into complete disarray. Among his most controversial acts was the cultivation and modification of a potent and extremely contagious disease within prisoners, and then allowing them to 'escape', causing them to spread the disease. Reinforcements from Palaven only seemed to add to the chaos, providing Lo with more officers to torture and more targets to steal or destroy.

When the combined fleets of Earth's supranational unions finally arrived on Shanxi, they were outnumbered 3 to 1 by a fleet of 750 ships with crewed by Hierarchy sailors barely holding on to their sanity. When Yan Lo struck with the Snowblind bombs, all hell broke loose, and the turians found themselves surrounded on all sides and unable to provide fire support to their ground forces, who were being annihilated by an onslaught of Wanzers, powered armors, and unmanned drones. The Turian defeat was complete, calls for surrender were ignored, and the few prisoners that were taken had been interrogated, tortured, and lynched to death. Such was the fate of the famed General Desolas Arterius, whose dropship was shot down by Wanzer pilot Major Edgar Hein as it attempted to evacuate some wounded soldiers.

Shortly after the battle, Yan Lo would activate Relay 314, and exploration vessels from every union on earth followed him into the then unknown Sirius clusters. In the months that the Council brokered a peace between the nations of Earth and the Turian Hierarchy, humanity had laid claim to hundreds of new worlds and discovered at least five new sentient races, including the Fiera, natives of Xytegenia.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>AN: Manah is "voiced" by Laura Bailey. Just picture her performance as Serah Farron in Final Fantasy XIII-2 and you'll know exactly what Manah sounds like. Yes, it's an Actor Allusion. :)**_

_**Yan Lo is meant to represent a sharp contrast to other Mass Effect crossover fanfics and how the Alliance handled Shanxi. While, for example, the GDI in Peptuck's Renegade won the battle by the virtues of being badass and posessing overwhelming firepower, the Earth forces in this fic won by virtue of being COMPLETE AND UTTER BASTARDS.**_


	21. Chapter 18: The Durendal

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 18: The Durendal**_

_**or**_

_**Meet the Crew**_

_**or **_

_**The breather episode before things go wrong again.**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>For all intents and purposes, Tali'Zorah should have been happy. After an... interesting first encounter with Hein (which involved him barging in the Normandy's sickbay while she was changing her into her suit inside a cold plasma field), she had found out that one of the men who had saved her - Adam Jensen, that is - had suggested to the strange human that he hire Tali to repair and operate an unknown Geth weapon. Hein had also challenged her to resolve a 'hypothetical' situation involving a fractured element zero core. "How would you maintain a Warp field in a sun's gravity well?" he had asked her. Her long-winded and complicated but nevertheless brilliant answer had eventually gotten her an at will employment contract as the chief engineer aboard his ship, with a standard wage that was more than Tali ever dreamed of receiving from an alien.<p>

At first, she was reluctant to accept, concerned that some of her people were still stuck in that slum (the riot had died down, but it was still an unfriendly place to be) and considered going after them. She had shared his with Hein, and after a moment of pondering he sweetened the deal by offering to have them rescued.

"I have four of the finest soldiers in Sol armed to teeth. You've got a patched up bodysuit and a starter shotgun. Trust me, if you really care about your people's safety, you'll take my deal." And so she did.

She had expected betrayal, she had to admit. Too many a Quarian Pilgrim had fallen prey to people that offered deals far too good to be true. But Hein had kept his word: Veetor and Fyodor were saved, along with two others, who introduced themselves as Zev and Lelia. Hein even offered the other three Pilgrims similar contracts to Tali's. Veetor and Zev accepted without too many questions, seeing as they had no other prospects. Only Lelia protested, saying that she was a traveling minstrel and that her skill lay in merriment, not engineering. Tali thought that extremely odd: _Every_ Quarian in the Flotilla was skilled in engineering. There were various degrees of competence, of course, but no Quarian has ever been considered useless in an engine room.

"Can you cook?" Hein had asked.

"Yes," she had answered simply in her funny accent.

"**Fantastic!** You're our new chef!"

And just like that, the Durendal now had a proper engineering team AND a cook. It occurred to Tali then that Hein did not exactly rescue them out of the kindness of his own heart. He was on the lookout for talent, and more opportunistic than altruistic. Still, Tali could live with that. In fact, she should have been very happy that she and several other Quarians had been saved and been given jobs. Why then, did she feel so down? Maybe it was because of what lead her here. That discovery on Noveria, the death of Keenah, the riot, her near death at the hands of disease, Turian clones, and a commando of Asari Huntresses...

...The face of that boy as Tali loosed a bolt point blank into his head, haunting her thoughts as she tried to sleep...

She shook her head, trying to focus on the Core room's primary console and on her work. Keeping a not so theoretical fractured Element Zero core stable while the ship flew at FTL speeds required quite a bit of work: She had yet to come up with the necessary VI subroutines that would do this automatically.

"Would you like me to take over?" asked Zev. "You look like you could use some rest."

"Hm? Oh, no no no I still have to-" Tali yawned. "I still have to figure out those subroutines."

"Well, you won't be doing that when you're struggling with sleep deprivation."

Before she could reply, Doctor Ross' voice came through on the ship's intercom. "Tali? I've got some mechanical trouble I need you to look at. Could you please come over to Med-Sci?"

Tali considered refusing, seeing as she was still busy with the core, but it occurred to her that Dr. Ross might be able to give her something to fight her weariness. Might as well drop in and take care of whatever mechanical trouble she encountered. "I'll be right there." she answered, "Zev, take over for me, will you?"

"As you wish, Lady Zorah." Zev took a gallant bow.

"..._Please_ stop calling me that." she said as she left the Core room. Part of the appeal of going on a Pilgrimage was escaping the reverence symptomatic of being Rael'Zorah's daughter.

Thinking about her father suddenly made her think about her future: Provided Hein kept her employed for a couple of years, she would have enough Credits to purchase a suitable gift for the captain of the Neema, not to mention that she would have plenty of experience working on and solving the many issues of a human prototype space vessel. Who knows? She might even gain new insights in spaceship engineering and come up with a new type of drive, or power plant, or... something. Something fantastic. Something worthy of the Zorah name.

...

_"We can trace our lineage back to kings, Tali. **Kings**! To be worthy of that ancestry, a Zorah must be a cut above the rest: stronger, smarter and better than the common Quarian! Your gift **must** reflect this. Do not return to us with a common gift... for I will see to it destroyed, and send you away in shame."_

_..._

The bitter memory of her father's voice taunted her as she made her way to MedSci. Would anything ever be good enough? He had not provided her with a criterion for "better". Good gifts could be so varied, in either quantity of quality. Some could be practical, others could be so abstract. What would satisfy father? What would disappoint the captain? She had no idea, but she did understand that a mountain of credits wouldn't do the trick. The thought depressed her; would she ever be done with her Pilgrimage?

Tali opened the door to the infirmary, and her heart skipped a beat. Sitting on the bed wearing nothing but snug gray boxer briefs was Adam Jensen, the man who had rescued her from the Huntresses. At first she was glad, as she had wanted to personally thank him for saving her life. She decided against it, believing that he was far too busy with keeping the Citadel safe from criminals to have any time to spare. When her eyes drifted from his face down to his legs and arms, they widened in horror. They were completely artificial. Tali had read on the extranet that Jensen was a cyborg, but she had assumed he was implanted with similar circuitry to hers, meant to interface directly with her suit and Omni-Tool. But this? This was... _disgustingly_ _overindulgent._

Now, she didn't quite know how to feel about Jensen. One thing was certain: She didn't feel tired anymore.

"Ms. Zorah," Jensen said politely with a slight nod in her direction.

"...wha?" Tali replied lamely. Jensen quirked his eyebrow at this.

Aki, who had been intently scanning Jensen chest and head with her Omni-Tool, turned to Tali and smiled.

"Hi Tali! Mister Jensen here has got a sticky knee actuator on his left leg. Since I'm more of a doctor than an engineer, I figured you could help me in fixing it?"

"Well, that is, I'm kind of busy with the core and uh..." Tali muttered.

"It's actually not that much of a problem," Jensen protested a bit. "The actuator's just a backup in case the myomer bundles snap."

"Oh hush, you! Hein asked me to make sure you're in top form and that's exactly what I'll do." She tapped the bed. "Now lie down, this shouldn't hurt a bit. Tali, come on over and work your magic."

_**~[h+]~**_

Edward Grey was not a happy man. In the last few days, Hein had dragged him all the way to the Citadel in some gambit to get the major governments of Earth more involved in galactic affairs. It seemed to have worked, but the idea of having a galaxy's worth of responsibility heaped on his shoulders had been a great source of stress. That little skirmish in the sewers had kind of come as a welcome change of pace, but while Grey had thought he had done a fairly good job of eliminating several hostiles with maximum efficiency and had successfully saved and extracted four civies, Hein didn't seem all that pleased.

...

_"Why did you shoot first?" asked Hein as he reviewed the Deep Eyes' helmet recordings, his face neutral._

_"The civies were under attack." replied Grey. "I had to act quickly."_

_"You could have suppressed them, parleyed, gotten them to surrender."_

_"Permission to speak freely, sir?"_

_"You _always_ have my permission."_

_"We were kitted out with lethal gear. If you wanted no fatalities, you should have given us the right gear for it.'_

_"You all have Omni-Tools. You could have used them."_

_"You didn't give us any directives beyond finding and saving those Alien civies, sir."_

_"Yes... and look what you've done with that freedom." Hein smirked. "You killed seventeen men and women - Why, one of them a teenager, looks like! - without so much as a second thought. I see your conditioning is holding fast."_

_"They were armed hostiles intent on killing civilians! Any soldier would have done what I did, conditioned or not!"_

_"Of course. You were absolutely justified in using lethal force as a soldier. But would C-Sec have seen it that way, I wonder? I suppose we're all fortunate the firefight took place somewhere out of the way: Can you imagine the kind of hell you'd have raised if there had been witnesses? No, I don't think you'll be suited for what I have in mind. Fortunately, I know someone who does." Hein closed and set down a green book titled 'Project Galahad' on his desk, as if for emphasis._

_"So that's it, then? You're letting us go?"_

_"Oh, no no no. I suspect I will have need of killers before long. You're dismissed, Captain."_

_..._

What Hein had in mind, apparently, was somehow manipulate events to rope in Adam Jensen onto the Durendal just as they were about to leave. Adam Jensen. The Monster, as the Order liked to call him. The Abomination, he had heard some Templars call him. Usually, Grey would not give either kind of fanatic the time of day, but after Mars... Some part of him wondered if they were right, that grafting machines onto one's body really did make someone evil, or at the very least violently insane, and that he shouldn't just shoot Jensen in the back at the first opportunity. Or maybe he wouldn't give him much of a choice but to kill him. He'd cross that bridge when he came across it.

What really made Grey angry at the moment, however, was that Hein suddenly expected him to work with a _Turian. _Hein came down to the cargo bay with this Garrus Vakarian as Gray ran his daily maintenance routine on his gear. The Turian saluted and stood at attention like a good soldier. Hein then proceeded to list Vakarian's accomplishments as written in his electronic dog tags (a memento from his days in the military. apparently), not to mention his accomplishments with C-Sec. He would be taking Neil's place on the Caleston mission, Neil would keep the engines warm, and Jane would be accompanying Jensen. Gray did not like the sound of that _at all._

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

Hein rolled his eyes. "Here we go..."

"I already have a designated marksman. Neil is competent and needs no replacing."

"And you'll still have him when the mission is over. But we both know Neil isn't the best marksman in the world, and Mr Vakarian here is even more accurate and precise with an iron-sighted heavy pistol than Neil is with a fully kitted out DMR... Any other objections?"

"Yes, I don't work with _Kittybirds_, sir."

"Well," said Vakarian, as he relaxed his stance, "fuck you too, pal. I'm not exactly looking forward to working with any of you, either."

"Tsk tsk tsk. Play nice, children," Hein scolded both soldiers. "Is there a particular reason you don't like Turians, Grey?"

"Shanxi, sir. Hundreds of thousands of civilians, bombarded from orbit? Children being shot to death? Does that ring any bells?"

"As I recall," Garrus began to argue. "Yan Lo made the Shanxi occupiers pay dearly for that. As for the kids... As for the kids, they had no business picking up Gauss rifles."

"They picked those Gauss rifles up after General Arterius started executing their parents!" Grey countered.

"And their parents had no business fighting after Williams surrendered!" Vakarian shot back.

"GENTLEMEN. Let me stop this right now. Grey, how old were you during the First Contact war? Nine? Ten? You weren't there, and every so called fact you got about Shanxi was fed to you by livestreams on OZ. As for me? I was right there for the retaking, and let me tell you, we made the Turians suffer. Boy howdy, did we ever! But hey! That was _twenty-six_ years ago, and I'm more than willing to forgive if not forget. As far as I'm concerned, the price of blood and pain has been paid, and that's the last I want to hear about it. I get enough of this crap from Saracino... Is that understood, Captain?

Grey calmed himself down. "... Yes, sir."

"And as for you, mister Vakarian, if you ever try to justify Arterius' actions in my presence ever again..." He gave Vakarian a cold, withering stare. "I. will. _end._ you. Is that understood?"

Garrus found himself staring at the ground. "... I didn't mean to defend him I just... I understand."

Hein face went from that of a frightening killer to a friendly uncle in the blink of an eye. "Fantastic! Edward, see to it that Garrus gets outfitted with some proper weapons. That Mongoose is impressive, but it won't do much past seventy-five meters. If you'll excuse me, I'll be busy unpacking the 108."

Grey's eyes widened. "The 108? I thought that thing's software couldn't calibrate itself to a human body. Who are y- Oh, no... You're going to give it to _Jensen, _aren't you_?"_

"Yep!" said Hein as he walked away towards a coffin made of smooth obsidian, propped upright against another crate.

"Are you insane?!"

"Oh, most certainly!"

Neither Vakarian nor Grey said anything as Hein took off his longcoat and got to work adjusting the power armor. Vakarian broke the silence first.

"Say, do you happen to have a spare Serpent? With a digital scope? I'd just love to use one of those..."

Grey sighed as he opened the weapons locker. "All _you'll_ be getting is a Steiner-Bisley Greatsword M3." said Grey as he handed the weapon to the Turian. "The firepower's good enough..."

"...But the recoil compensators are crap." finished Vakarian as he checked the bolt-action rifle's empty chamber.

"Is that so? Well, you're a big guy, you can handle the kickback."

"Oh, most certainly. Not sure why an elite squad of Terran marines is doing using gunpowder weapons, though. Fallen on hard times?"

"I'm not the one wearing an Agent mark 1."

"Touché. Beggars can't be choosers... Hm, yeah, I can handle the Greatsword, no problem. I've had to use one in a pinch to disable a drug lord's escape vehicle."

Grey crossed his arms. "Oh really? Well, I hope you understand why I'm not just going to take your word for it, _Turian_. We're going to go over every single part of that weapon and review its user's manual, and once we're done with that we'll see just how good you are at taking down VR targets. If you're going to be watching our backs, I'm going to make sure you're ready."

"Fair enough. Just don't cry when I blow your high score out of the water."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Off with the glasses, now." Aki ordered Jensen. He complied by retracting his eye shades back into their plastic clips, and Aki did the classic 'shine a light in the eyes and take note of the reaction' test. To Aki's surprise, Jensen's artificial irises clamped nearly shut almost instantly, and dilated just as quickly when she switched off the light. Impressive reaction time.

Aki had to admit, she was pretty stoked. It wasn't every day that a girl like her got to examine a human being so extensively modified with cybernetics. She wasn't all that interested in the prostheses: it was Jensen's sub-dermal and internal implants that intrigued her the most. A lot of these implants, she noted, could improve the quality of life for a lot of people that reacted poorly to modern gene therapy.

It was a shame they were all technically illegal. More shameful was how humanity had turned its mastery of biotech away from improving the human body. They could create terraforming microbes and build an entire ecosystem, animals and all, from scratch. Why then, couldn't they cure things like Vrolik's Syndrome? Or even Down's Syndrome? Most gene therapies only focused on keeping people healthy and fit, and while that was fine, humanity could do so much more. Biotics drove up the need for human bio-modification research, but once that frontier was conquered, it was likely interest in the technology would grind to a halt. Such a waste...

Jensen's set of brain implants proved to be the most intriguing, and she wondered just how they interacted with his brain, if they boosted his intelligence. It occurred to her that they might interfere with the Dream Catcher... Then again, it's not like they did his dreaming for him.

"Tali, could you have a look at this?" she asked the engineer. Tali looked up from her work reattaching Jensen's shin. Aki showed her a readout from her Omni-Tool. "Can you give me an estimate on the performance of this chipset?"

Tali squinted at it. "Is that... Is that his brain?" she asked in bewilderment as her eyes scanned the hologram of the electronics and the hair-thin conduits that irrigated Jensen's brain. "I'm... not sure. I'd say the processing power is equivalent to a Nexus mark Five, but since I have no idea how the chips interact with his brain, it might be more."

"Huh. Interesting, I didn't know we had such advanced electronics back in the 2020's."

"What's that... tiny cloud on the side of the brain hologram, there?" asked Tali as she pointed at the hologram.

"Neural scarring from a .357 bullet that was lodged into my skull," said Jensen, matter-of-factly.

Aki's eyes widened. "Oh, my! And... you survived that?"

"Well, _evidently_." quipped Jensen. Aki caught him glancing over where the bed where the artificial woman lay unconscious, with transparent tubes of artificial white blood sticking out of her arm and into a dialysis machine. This 'Aya Brea' was another oddity entirely: according to Hein she was a completely synthetic human being, a soft machine, nearly indistinguishable from an actual human being save for some odd mutated organelles in her cells... and a very bad reaction to blood transfusions, apparently. Aki could tell Jensen was concerned about her well-being, although how deeply she wasn't sure.

"She'll be fine," she said reassuringly. "I flushed out the contaminated blood and replaced it with a synthetic substitute. I know she looks pale, but that's white blood for you."

"Will her blood turn back to normal?"

"Not a for a while. Her haematopoiesis seems to have temporarily stopped. I'll keep her hooked up to the dialysis machine until she can replenish her red blood cells on her own, and by then she should be conscious again." Of course, this was assuming there wouldn't be any more quirks to her biology. Aki had to admit, she didn't quite know how to repair a... homunculus? Was that even the proper term, here? "Once she's awake I'm hoping she'll be able to share with me her medical history... and maybe explain the scarring on her bones."

"Scars? I've seen her regenerate from a dozen cuts from glass shards, and she didn't have any scars."

"Is that so? Interesting... As far as I can tell, it seems that her limbs had been amputated. If what you say is true and that she has regenerative abilities so potent they don't leave scars, then..."

...

_"No!..." protested Brea, weak and delirious. "He'll...he'll cut me apart. They always cut me apart...I'll be good...I promise...ah..."_

...

"...then someone must have amputated her limbs repeatedly, causing the scarring to build up." Aki finished. Jensen just stared at Brea's still body, perhaps wondering what kind of person would do that to another person, artificial or no. Aki certainly did. None of them said anything for a while as Tali finished putting Jensen's knee back together and Aki continued her scans. Jensen, for his part, kept looking over at Brea as the two women worked.

"...Is she your wife?" asked Tali, finally. The question must have been burning on the tip of her tongue.

Jensen scowled, a bit embarrassed. "What? No! What gave you that idea?"

"You just seem so concerned for her, so I thought-"

"I... can't really help being concerned. A lot of people died at my hands so that she might live. Granted, most of them were scumbags but..." he shook his head. "I can't bear the thought that it would have been all for nothing." He turned to the doctor. "Look, are we done here?"

"Tali? Done with the knee?"

"All done!" said the Quarian girl a little too gingerly. Adam got out of the bed and flexed his left leg. Satisfied that the actuator functioned properly, he proceeded to put his clothes back on. Despite herself, Aki couldn't help but follow the cog-rail shaped plastic strip that protected Jensen's spine with her eyes and glanced down at his posterior. It was plastic and carbon, of course: there wasn't much point in augmenting someone's legs unless you replaced _every_ leg muscle, glutes included. Still, it was a nicely molded piece of plastic and carbon, and from the quick embarrassed glances Tali tried to not to take at it, Aki could tell she agreed, too.

"Well, that's that for your physical, then." Aki said. "There is some metal fatigue in your arms, though... Have you been repeatedly punching at a concrete wall or something?"

"Something like that," answered Jensen as he buttoned up his shirt.

"Well, it's taken its toll on your endo-structure. You're not in any risk of your arms snapping any time soon, but we should really consider getting you an overhaul. I don't think we have the materials or the equipment for that, though."

"Or the time. I'll just refrain from punching out walls from here on in."

"As for those telltale signs of mild sleep deprivation, we'll be taking care of that in about...three hours? Your melatonin levels should peak by then. In the meantime, how about a tour of ship?"

"Don't you need time to set up this... Dream Catching machine of yours?"

"Oh no, the thing's fully integrated in the bed you were using. All I need to do is press this button right here..." Aki pressed a switch on the side of bed, and several rings and scanners made out of programmable materials shaped themselves into place, creating a halo of sensors where Jensen's head had been laying. "It'll be ready to go when you are."

"Well, might as well kill some time before I go into the lotus-eater machine."

"It's... not meant to be some kind of VR fantasy land, Jensen. The Dream Catcher is a psychotherapeutic tool, and when used in conjunction with the Dream Walker, I can dive in and help someone deal with their psychological issues. It's used by the UNAS military as a way to deal with PTSD, and it's had great success in allowing mentally scarred veterans go on with their lives... Of course, I can't deny that the device opens up some huge possibilities for the entertainment industry. Do you have any recurring nightmares? If you like I can dive in and make your dreams more pleasant."

Jensen quirked his eyebrow at this. "Um... it's not that I'm not flattered, but-"

"Oh!" Aki laughed good-naturedly. "No, I didn't mean it like _that, _I mean that I can subtly alter the dream scape to pull you out of your nightmare and into more pleasant thoughts and memories. Alternatively, I can go into the Dream Catcher and pull you into a dream scape of my creation... Or, I could have you replay one of my own dream recordings."

"That's sounds lovely..." Tali said wistfully as she tried and failed to suppress a yawn. "I haven't had a good night's sleep in...well, two days, but still..."

"Bad dreams?" asked Aki.

"Yes..."

"I can relate." said Jensen empathetically.

"I understand." Aki nodded and set up one of the beds for Tali and took a Dream Walker device out of a secured locker.

"Oh no, I didn't mean... I still have some work to do in engineering and I was hoping you'd have a stimulant for me, instead."

"I don't have any meds for Quarians, Tali. And a stim would just make things worse in the end. Trust me, nothing does more good to the body like a good night's sleep." She held the device, a white plastic headset, above Tali's head. Take off your hood, please?" she asked the Quarian girl. Tali complied, and Aki set the device right on her helmet.

"Won't my helmet interfere with the connection?" asked Tali.

"No, I just need to boost the gain aaand... there. All done." Aki guided Tali by the hand to the bed and set her down on it, making sure she was completely comfortable. "Now, the device will be set to calibration mode as it gets a handle on your neural structure. By the time you're asleep, the dream should be streamed into your mind once you reach REM sleep. Speaking of which, which would you prefer? A walk on a sandy beach made out of stardust during a multicolored sunset or... flying an airship to the moon?"

"I... think I'll try the former, please."

"As you wish." Aki inserted the proper data drive into a small computer and set up a connection between it and the Dream Walker headset. "Now, close your eyes, take a deep breath, and relax..."

Aki slowly dimmed the lights, and quietly left the infirmary, taking Jensen by the arm and putting a finger over her mouth. She closed the door behind them both, making sure that they could not disturb her.

"Poor thing likes to throw herself into her work." said Aki. It's commendable, but she's going to burn herself up if she keeps it up."

"... Yeah, I knew someone like that once," said Jensen, with a hint of sadness. Aki picked up on it immediately, but decided not to pry... Even though she wanted to: Jensen fascinated her on a scientific and personal level. The scientific (particularly the odd tissue that formed around his PEDOT electrodes), she could figure through scans and the occasional exam. The personal, the facts behind the stories, she'd have at least seven days to figure out, although Jensen seemed like the strong silent type, the kind of man that preferred to keep most of his past to himself most of the time. Aki wanted to respect that silent wish for privacy, but her curiosity kept prodding her to keep on...well, _prodding._

"Well then, I do believe you still have some time to kill, and I promised you a tour. Shall we begin?"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Hey there, little man."

In the cargo bay, right by where the Copperhead was housed, Ryan Whitaker squatted next to Fyodor, the little mute Quarian boy. Aki had put together a makeshift set of watercolors and pencils for him to draw with, as Lelia recommended. The Quarian minstrel, clad in dark purple leather and red bands of cloth, was siting on a crate keeping one eye on the boy and the other on her instrument, some kind of small harp made out of glass. It needed some maintenance and tuning, apparently. Ryan looked forward to hearing her play. She nodded at him, as if to say "soon."

As for Fyodor, the boy was keeping himself busy sketching and coloring. A mess of drawings lay on the floor, with Fyodor at the center of it. Ryan spotted a few portraits, most notably one of himself, smiling a big, heartfelt smile. Ryan had to admit, the boy could draw beautifully, although his knowledge of anatomy could use some work. Then again, he was still a kid.

"Hey, is that supposed to be me?" said Ryan, smiling. Fyodor looked up at him and nodded at him excitedly, and pointed at several other drawings. It was the rest of the Deep Eyes: Edward, Jane and Neil. Even Hein and Aki had their portraits, although they seemed a bit more like caricatures. Aki looked like an angel dressed in a gown of flowing silk, her arms spread open like a mother welcoming her child home. Hein was drawn as an evil grinning hooded sorcerer, wringing his hands and plotting some sort of dastardly plot. Ryan chuckled at that: it summed up how he felt about Hein most of time very nicely. As for Aki, well... It was pretty much right on the money, too. She could be so worried about everyone she came across.

Fyodor got back to painting his current project, a huge, ethereal black dog with white fur at his throat (a German shepherd, by the looks of things), biting into the back of the neck of a sword wielding woman in a white mask. There were three other drawings like this, one of them had the giant dog throw a woman onto another, no doubt killing them both. It was... fairly disturbing.

"I think he's trying to process what's been happening to him - all of us," said Lelia in her lovely voice. His translator seemed to think she was french, for some reason, and she had an accent to match. "Our first rescuer had been... brutal when he defeated the mercenaries that planned to kill us."

"Adam Jensen." said Ryan, nodding. The man DID have a reputation to be kind to his friends, but a real terror to his enemies. Ryan's eyes turned to another drawing, that of three knights in full helm, their eyes aglow with blue flames, charging into a group of savages with weapons that spewed a blazing inferno. It seems Adam Jensen wasn't the only one out there being too brutal.

"I'm sorry you had to see that, son." Ryan said sadly. No kid should have to see that kind of violence: it simply wasn't good for the soul.

He knew this all too well.

"I wish there had been another way, but..." There _were_ other ways, but Grey had tagged all the hostiles and shouted 'open fire' before any other option could be suggested or even considered. After Akuze, Grey had become just that much more merciless. Akuze had broken him, and when they put him back together they made sure to take out any hesitation, any doubt in the face of combat.

Ryan didn't want to dwell on this, and looked at some other drawings. One was, strangely enough, a picture of a tanned man with pointy ears clad in green leather, wielding two knives, and a redheaded woman standing over him clad in dark purple leather wielding a bow. They were both engaging some unseen enemy. _Probably a dragon, _thought Ryan. It occurred to him then that their colors matched those of Zev and Lelia, and he remembered that Zev was wielding two pistols and Lelia was no stranger to carrying a DMR when the Deep Eyes had found them. Fyodor had drawn them both as humans... how very odd.

Another drawing: an incomplete sketch of Grey, dressed like a knight in shining armor with his hands resting on the pommel of a sword. Despite his regal and proud bearing, he looked so very... sad. There was also a drawing of Neil, dressed like some early twentieth century aviator outfit (complete with goggles) flying a mechanical contraption worthy of the Wrights brothers, with a grin plastered all over his face. Jane was, interestingly enough, drawn just standing there, her arms crossed, dressed like a native American wielding a tomahawk in one hand and a knife in the other. Her favorite melee loadout.

"Now how did you know that Jane was part native American, hm?" it then occurred to Ryan there was also no way some alien boy could know what a German shepherd could look like, either. Or a 20th century aviator, for that matter. Or even a medieval knight...

His eyes widened when he saw a drawing of himself, bearing a kite shield, clad neck to toe in armor... With a big red cross painted across his chest.

"How did you...?"

"Well, now, what do we have here?" said Grey cheerfully as he knelt down besides Fyodor. Fyodor seemed excited to see him, pointed a finger at him like a pistol and made explosive noises with his breath.

Grey smiled, put both hands in front of his face and parted them. "Voop! Laser shield!... Huh, seems Fyodor's quite the artist, isn't he?"

"That he is," answered Ryan as he stood up. "Need me for something, sir?"

"Yeah," he said as he pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "Ryan, meet Garrus Vakarian. Vakarian, meet Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Whitaker. He's in charge of maintaining the Deep Eyes' personal armors, and he acts as our Sentinel on the ground."

Ryan, being courteous as always, shook the Turian's hand and nodded in acknowledgment. Garrus seemed a bit confused, and asked: "I thought the UNAS didn't use Biotics?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm not an Alliance Sentinel, we US Marines use a different set of terms for combat roles. My job as a Sentinel is to get the enemy's attention and soak in the bullets."

"Ah. You'll have to bring me up to speed on Marine terminology, then."

"Later," answered Grey impatiently. "Hein wants him to temporarily act as our Designated Marksman for the Caleston mission... He's skilled, no doubt about it, but..."

Garrus did the turian equivalent of a chuckle, and Grey tried to hide his annoyance.

"..._but_, he's no use to me if some gangbanger can one-shot him with a pea shooter. Can you see if you can upgrade his armor?"

Ryan looked at the Turian from head to toe and scratched his chin. "Yeah, I think I can cannibalize a spare Mechanized IPS. Shouldn't have too much trouble mounting the chest plate and the shields on that Agent mk I. I can also bolt on some spare armor plates on the legs and arms. It's not going to be a power armor, but-"

Fyodor interrupted Ryan by tugging at his pants. He held up another drawing, this one of a knight clad in an impressive if loose fitting blue armor with wings made out of metal and light, wielding a greatsword. Fyodor then pointed at Garrus, and Ryan deduced that he wanted him to make an armor just like that for Vakarian.

"Want me to make him into Archangel Gabriel himself, eh?" Ryan laughed a little bit. "Sorry little man, I haven't got the materials for that, maybe some other time?"

"Ah... Ah!..." Fyodor moaned in frustration and impatience, like any child denied a dream, and kept shaking the drawing in front of him. Ryan was patient and tried to calm the boy down, but Lelia soon intervened.

"Come now, Fyodor," she said. "Let the men work and come with me... It's time for you to go to bed, in any case." Fyodor obeyed after a bit of a sulk, and the three soldiers were now free to talk shop.

"Hm, poor kid. As I was saying," continued Ryan. "it'll keep Vakarian alive." He turned to Vakarian. "So how'd you get stuck in an Agent mk 1? I thought C-Sec had better gear than that."

"I used to have a Medium Partisan IV, but some thugs thought it would get in the way of the nice little 'greasy acupuncture' they had planned for me."

Ryan whistled. "Damn, Greasel Venom's no joke... They didn't actually do it, did they? Seeing as you're still standing and all..."

"Got a few scars to prove they _did_ do it, if you'd like to see." said Vakarian casually. Anyone hard enough to handle a greased up blade and get back up ready to fight was worthy of plenty of respect, and Ryan's respect for Vakarian rose accordingly.

"Well, as much as I'd love to hear more of your _exploits_, Vakarian, I've got a maintenance check to run on our weapons. Ryan, take care of this ASAP. We've got at least two days before we reach Caleston, so don't overdo it. I don't want his suit to fall apart on me and have to fight next to a naked Turian."

Garrus' mandibles parted, and he squinted like a naughty boy up to no good. "Well, it certainly wouldn't be the first time! Reminds me of the time me and Jensen-"

"-I said: I DON'T want to hear it. Ryan, Vakarian, get to work." And with that, Grey left the two soldiers to their business. When he was out of earshot, Vakarian couldn't help but quip:

"I think he's starting to like me."

_**~[h+]~**_

Doctor Ross made Jensen uncomfortable. Maybe it was because she was gorgeous: standing at an average one meter seventy, her slender frame was covered in a gray US Navy jumpsuit, her pale, unpainted oval face framed by two long waterfalls of unkempt, wavy black hair. She was the complete opposite of Brea, who seemed like the type of woman that wouldn't dare go out in public without at least a layer of foundation on.

Maybe it was because she was a Doctor. Truth is, Jensen never liked being poked and prodded by them, especially after getting augmented.

Or maybe it was because she reminded him so much of Megan. There was that glint in her eye, a brilliance, and an utter fascination with his implants as she scanned him with her Omni-Tool. He could tell she was fantasizing about the applications of the technology, no doubt thinking about how they could improve lives. That was what Megan liked to say, too.

Megan was never in it to improve lives. She did what she did because it could be done.

Ross led him around the Medicine and Science Labs (or MedSci for short), the area she was most familiar with. For some reason, the mess hall and galley was also part of MedSci. and when Jensen pointed that out, Ross simply shrugged, smiled and said "Hey, cooking is science, too!"

Up next on the tour: the Hydroponics Bay. It was abuzz with activity, with several mechanical arms, painted orange, planting seeds evenly on foam oases. Robots carried trays in their arms, moving them from the seeding area to the racks. A transparent tank of green goo (which, thankfully, didn't glow) dripped into the supply of water, which was fed into dozens of metal racks and arrays of shallow pools in which the oases floated. Multi-spectral lamps were everywhere, ensuring that the plants would have plenty of nourishing light. Jensen was thankful for the shades: It was really bright in there.

"That's the concentrated nutrient gel tank," said Ross, pointing at the transparent green gunk. "Without it the plants can't thrive in the water. The first harvest should be due next week, and I'm hoping Lelia will have brushed up on human cuisine to make something good."

"Lelia?"

"...Oh, that's right, you haven't met her! Hein had the Deep Eyes rescue a few Quarian Pilgrims in Upper Zakera on Tali's request, and Lelia is one of them. Hein convinced them to serve on the Durendal as contractors, and Lelia volunteered her services as a cook. I don't know how well Quarians can cook, but if Lelia's cooking is as any good as her singing, then we're in for a treat."

"Is this the only source of food the ship has?"

"Of course not! We've got a supply of protein blocks and water rations stored in the cargo bay. The hydroponics is just to ensure the crew doesn't suffer from malnutrition... Or mutinies after eating nothing but protein blocks for months. Of course, since both the Hydroponics and Cargo bays can be breached by gunfire, there's an emergency supply locker in every room of the ship."

"Smart."

"Over-centralize and you invite disaster, that's one of the lessons the Collapse taught us."

"Couldn't you eat the Bio-Gel in a pinch?"

"Sure!... But the stuff tastes like crap. Mostly because it's literally _made_ out of crap."

"What... kind of crap?" Jensen asked, although he wasn't sure if he wanted to know the answer to that one.

"I meant all sorts of broken down biological waste. The Durendal wastes _nothing_, Jensen."

It suddenly dawned on Adam exactly what she meant. "Oh. OH, okay, Yeah. I think I won't be eating any of THAT, then. How long will your supplies hold out?"

"Since it's just going to be me, Hein, and the four Deep Eyes for the foreseeable future, our supplies will hold out for a year. We bought some food for the Quarians, and those should last them at least a month. Longer, once I can get the Dextro Plants to grow here. You and Garrus won't put such a big dent in our food consumption. If you both turn out to be gluttons, well, we should be able to resupply at Caleston.

Ross led Jensen to the cabins, passing by Special Projects along the way. According to her, the Durendal could house one hundred and sixty crewmen fairly comfortably. Connected to the cabin section was a Recreation room, a shower room, and a small gym.

"With just the handful of us on board, we can all have our own individual cabins."

"Will I be staying here?"

"Well, tonight you'll be spending your night in the infirmary while my computer monitors your brain as you sleep in the Dream Catcher. Provided you won't need to go in there again, I suppose I should temporarily assign you a cabin. Garrus already has one, before you ask."

"Good to know. You said it's just you and the Deep Eyes? This is an awfully big ship, don't you need a crew of a thousand to run it?"

"Automation has come a long way since the twenty-first century, Jensen. A ship this large needs only a few hundred crewmen for it to run efficiently. Of course, since I'm the only Navy officer here, the VI and its robots pretty much run the ship."

"Why are you the only Navy officer here? Shouldn't the Navy have provided a crew?"

"Hein pulled some strings to save the Durendal from the plasma torches and use it to haul sensitive cargo, but since it was the Navy that paid the the ship's construction bill, they felt that they should have a presence on it even as Hein takes it on a joyride across the galaxy. On the other hand, they also pretty much lost faith in the Durendal's concept, so they didn't want to waste an entire crew on it either. So, here I am. Well, that's it for this level."

"...Are you sure? It seems to me we only visited a third of this level."

"The forward half of the ship is dedicated to the ship's main gun. Since it's an active DARPA project, only Hein has the clearance to get in there. There are also several empty rooms, and there's nothing to see in there until someone finds some use for them."

"I see."

"Well, You've already had a look at the cargo level. I could show you the two torpedo rooms that flank it, if you like."

"I think I'll pass. Not much interest in rows and rows of ordnance."

"Well, let's be off to the command level, then."

On their way to the elevator, Ross decided to make some small talk.

"So, Jensen. That's Scandinavian, correct?"

"So I've been told." Jensen answered casually. Truth of the matter was that he had no clue as to his origins. Definitely European, so there was a good chance his parents - his real parents - were from Sweden or Denmark anyways. Then again, he wasn't sure if his adopted father, Arthur, had any Scandinavian blood to speak of. "I, uh, haven't really traced my roots all that well. I may as well be Irish, for all I know."

"Oh, well that's a shame." she said as she pressed the elevator call button.

"... What about you? Aki - That's Japanese, correct?" Jensen wisely didn't mention that 'Ross' was German for 'steed'. Some bits of trivia could be taken the wrong way.

"Yes, it is, but before you ask my parents were a Russian sailor and a Hong Kong waitress. They emigrated to the States shortly before I was born."

"How'd you get named 'Aki', then?"

"My actual first name is Angela. Aki's my middle name, after my godmother. Friends and acquaintances call me Aki because it's shorter."

"Angela isn't that much of a tongue twister."

"What can I say?" Ross shrugged and smiled. "People are lazy. Feel free to call me Angela if you like."

The elevator arrived, and Jensen and Ross stepped in.

...

_"Did he destroy that vase yet?" asked Jensen, half jokingly._

_"I moved it." answered Megan, smiling. "And I fenced in the yard - like you always said you were going to."_

_"Yeah... I never got around to that. ...Sorry."_

_"Me too. About a lot of things... Adam, I... There's something I-"_

_"Jensen?" asked Ross, worried._

_..._

"Jensen, are you alright?" said Ross, putting a hand on Jensen's shoulder. He gasped in surprise, then looked around, double checking his surroundings. For a brief second he was back in 2027, just before the incident... "I'm fine, I guess I just zoned out for a minute there."

Ross looked at Jensen for a moment, trying to figure if he was lying to her. After a moment, she simply said: "Yeesh, the elevator isn't THAT slow... Shall we continue?"

"Yeah. Yeah, lead on."

_**~[h+]~**_

In the CIC, Jane and Neil were in the middle of a conversation while Veetor checked the Helm. Neil sat in the helmsman seat, leaning back with his hands behind his head, while Jane stood with with arms crossed.

"So, um, how about the new passengers, eh?" asked Neil nonchalantly.

Jane rolled her eyes. She knew what he really wanted to talk about. "Let's just skip to the part where you want to talk about that robot girl's tits."

"Hoo boy! And what a pair they are. I mean, Lockheart's were bigger but -"

"DON'T talk about Lockheart."

"Awww, shit. Sorry, I - I didn't mean to remind you about her."

"Little late for that."

"Hey, I miss her too, you know."

"Hmph. You miss her tits." Jane said bitterly.

"Well, okay, yes that's true but _so do you_, along with the rest of her. She was a sweet girl. A bit too enthusiastic about punching stuff, but sweet."

Jane didn't like to think about Tiffany. She had been caught off-guard by a gang of Red Tribals back on Mars. She was the perfect prize for them...

"Look, can we just go back to the part where you're a shameless perv?"

"Okay, just for you. Where was I? Oh yes: I was saying that those breasts weren't the biggest I had ever seen, but damn! That shape, that all-natural, perfect shape. Boner inducing, let me tell you."

Jane smirked. "You do realize she's sick and unconscious, right?"

"Heh, don't you mean sleep mode? Well, I do plan on introducing myself once she's out of it. Bring her flowers and everything. Robot chicks still dig flowers, right?"

"Forget it, she's out of your league."

"But she's a _love-bot_! The whole point of these things is to be accessible!"

"And once she turns down your lame attempts at romance you'll have reached a brand new personal low."

"Not so! My man Vee here can set me up with the right dialogue options - maybe even some cheat codes? What do you think, Vee? Think you can help a poor boy out?"

Veetor was laying on his back, trying to repair a few bad connections under the Helm's console. "I, uh... I think I might be able to help... What model of sex-bot are we talking about here? A Pris N6? A Lenore mk 3?"

Neil blinked a couple of times. "...Whoa whoa whoa wait are you actually serious? I was just kidding around but... wait, you know sexbots?"

Veetor sounded a bit embarrassed. "Well, there's this guy in Upper Zakera who couldn't afford real girls for this love hotel, and his sexbots kept breaking down... mostly from overuse, but they'd develop these glitches sometimes."

"I think I'm gonna regret asking this but... what kind of glitches?"

"...Well, certain bits started contracting too tightly when they shouldn't."

"...Eep."

"You sure you still want to have a go at her, Neil?" commented Jane.

Neil ignored her. "Well, are you familiar with any models with the name Aya Brea?"

"... No," answered Veetor. "But if she's got a data jack for software maintenance I think i can still grant you full permissions."

"You are my new best friend."

"Don't think she has a port." said Jane. "I had a pretty good look when Aki had me and Ryan hold her down while she gave her a sedative."

"Aw, bummer... Hey, wait a minute! How come I didn't get called on to help with that?"

...

_"**Hold her down**!" shouted Aki. Jane and Ryan tried to obey, but this Brea was incredibly strong, and was completely panicked. Jane didn't know where she had suddenly found this burst of energy. Just seconds ago she was almost DEAD._

_"We're trying, goddammit!" Jane shouted back. It's not that she was mad, but Brea had one hell of a pair of lungs and just wouldn't stop **screaming. **_

_**"WHOA!" **exclaimed Ryan as he flew off and crashed into the bed on the other side of the infirmary. Jane saw Hein just standing there, watching, while nonchalantly eating from a bag of instant popcorn. What a prick, she thought. _

_Jensen rushed to Brea and had only slightly better luck holding her down, before Aki finally saw her chance and pressed the injection gun against Brea's neck. It took ten whole minutes for the damned meds to kick in._

_Now, it was Jane's turn to fly. _

_"Aw, shi-"_

_..._

"Trust me, you would have been absolutely no help. Besides, Aki needed people she was sure wouldn't _cop a feel._"

Neil was indignant. "Hey! I'm a perfect gentleman!... Most of the time. When I'm sober."

"Except you're actually considering making her your love slave. ...What do you think her _boyfriend_ will think of that?"

"Oh I'm sure we'll be able to work out a trade. Think he likes space sims?"

"Yeah, I'm thinking he's just gonna punch you through a wall. You have heard about him, right?"

"Aw, come on, I don't believe everything I read on OZ. Sure, Jensen's kinda scary looking but deep down? He's a total pussycat."

"Meow," deadpanned a guttural voice behind Neil. The Deep Eyes' pilot's eyes widened and he froze in fear. Jane 'helpfully' spun the pilot's seat around, and Neil was now being stared down at by Adam Jensen. Aki was at his side, palming her face.

Neil chuckled nervously. "...Hi?" Neil tried to put on a smile to hide his terror, but Jensen just kept glaring at him.

"Jensen," said Aki after a long, disappointed sigh, "meet Neil Fleming. He's the Deep Eye's pilot and the Durendal's helmsman. Don't get up, Neil! It's not rude, at all."

Realizing that he was quite rudely just sitting there, Neil promptly got up and shook Jensen's mechanical hand... Which turned out to have a vice like grip.

Aki continued: "And...the Quarian working down there is... Veetor? Come on out and introduce yourself, please."

"Oh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" said Veetor as he hurriedly rose to his feet. "I was just a bit too focused on the - I mean, Hello! My name is Veetor'Nara nar Qwib Qwib and... wait, I remember you!"

"Yeah, I remember you too, you're one of the pilgrims I saved from execution."

"Yes!" Veetor shook Jensen's hand furiously. "I had hoped to see you again and tell you how grateful I am for saving our lives!"

"Well, I didn't do that great a job of it, evidently, since I'm told you needed rescuing a second time... I'm sorry."

"That's... actually kind of our fault. We had a golden opportunity to leave, but Zev and Lelia needed the tools of their trade, since begging on the street wouldn't have kept us fed or healthy. A gang caught sight of us and we were forced to escape down in the sewers, but without a map and Greasels at our heels, we were trapped, then surrounded. As far as I'm concerned, we're still in your debt, doubly so for squandering the chance you gave us."

"How about we just call it even, okay?"

Veetor nodded, and Aki completed the introductions with Jane. "And you've met Jane Proudfoot in the infirmary, already."

Jane held out her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Jensen shook it. Jane thought she'd have trouble dealing with a cyborg on board, that looking at Jensen would cause her to flashback to Mars, but there she was, shaking a cyborg's hand. Maybe it was because Jensen's prostheses looked nothing like the Red Tribals'. Jensen's augs (those that she could see, anyways) were smooth, sleek, and painted black with a glossy finish. They were almost beautiful, in comparison to the pieced together scrap the Tribals put on their bodies.

"We met some time before that, actually," said Jane. "You stopped that Allie from throwing her life away." Jane smiled: she always approved whenever Alliance Marines bit off more than they could chew and choked on it. She would have preferred to settle the fight herself, of course.

"I was just doing my job." replied Jensen, "keeping the peace. Don't think for a minute that she wouldn't have put up a fight."

Jane was confident enough in her skill with a knife to know that it wouldn't have been a fight: It would have been an execution. "Hmph, whatever you say."

Sensing her meaning, Jensen crossed his arms and began lecturing her. "Okay, then. Let's assume I didn't stop that punch and you killed her easily - And you were ready to kill her, I could tell - Then I would have had to arrest you for manslaughter. Things could have easily escalated from there. Worst case scenarios? I kill you because you resist and force my hand, or you kill me and C-Sec flags you as a cop killer, signing your death warrant... all because you went for a knife to deal with a punch you invited through verbal abuse. I was doing both you _and_ Williams a favor, make no mistake about it."

And just like that, Jensen had killed the goodwill he had bought with Jane. An uncomfortable silence fell on the group, as Jane processed what Jensen had just said. Aki broke the silence before things got any more awkward. "So! This is the CIC! Standard Octagon configuration with a Strategic holographic pit in the center, surrounded by thirty stations. The helm faces the bow -naturally- and can be configured in a multitude of haptic setups and avionics. Past that door is Drone Control, but I can't take you through there. Classified tech, and all that."

"Should he really be in the CIC?" asked Jane. "This is a pretty sensitive area for a civilian to visit."

"Technically," answered Aki, "I'm the only one that has any business here, since I'm a sailor and you two are leathernecks. I think I'm allowed to show a civilian around a ship the Navy doesn't really want, as long as he doesn't touch anything."

_"Hein to Jenseeeeen!" _Hein's sing-song voice came through the ship's intercom. _"I have something to shooooow yo- Hey, wait a second - what are you doing in the CIC?"_

"Do... do I just reply out loud," Jensen quietly muttered to Aki, "like in Star Trek?"

"Pretty much." replied Aki. "Colonel? I was just showing Jensen around the ship to pass the time until he's ready to head into the Dream Catcher."

_"Ah, Doctor Ross! I don't suppose Tali is with you, as well?"_

"Ah, no. She's asleep, running a dream through the Dream Walker."

_"Oh really? Hm, I'll just have to leave post-it on her helmet, then. Jensen? Can you even hear me?"_

"Yeah, yeah, I can hear you."

_"The 108 is assembled! Come on down to the Cargo bay and have a look."_

"Wait, the 108's unpacked?" exclaimed Neil. "Oh, man! This I have to see! Jane, you coming?"

"... Sure, why not?"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Ah, I see that I've got a bigger audience than expected." said Hein as the Deep Eyes, Jensen, Aki and Garrus gathered around him and the black obelisk. The storage 'coffin' was almost completely covered in polished obsidian, save for a few large metallic screws that kept the box sealed. On the face of the obsidian monolith was the Shinkawa Heavy Industries logo, a Bāguà trigram (the Zhèn, or Thunder, as Jensen and Aki recognized it), and under the logo was some centered text: the name, model, and serial number of the product within the man-sized black box.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN." exclaimed Hein, his arms wide. "You may have been wondering what has been languishing in that black box that's been gathering dust in that corner of the cargo bay. Well, today is the day we shed light on the mystery! Everyone! Feast your eyes on the Shinkawa Model 108 Augmented Performance Suit!"

Hein put his hand on the side of the monolith, and the screws rotated and hissed out in sequence, each time with a loud clank. Steam hissed out of them, and the seemingly featureless smooth surface split in the middle, revealing the prototype power suit. Its outer shell was made of thick segmented ceramic plates bolted over a layer gold-bronze colored alloy. The helmet was mostly featureless save for two sensors on the left and right, and the faceplate was sculpted in three faces that formed a Y-shaped edge. The arms seemed a bit bare in comparison, covered in a flexible glossy plastic dotted with bronze gold studs.

Neil whistled. "Now _that_ is impressive."

Jane crossed her arms, her expression doubtful. "It LOOKS impressive, but what can it do?"

"What can it do? What CAN'T it do?" replied Hein excitedly, a grin on his face. "The 108 is designed to render any type of soldier into a super soldier! It doesn't matter if you're a Commando, a Ravager, a Medic, a Saboteur, a Synergist, a Sentinel or any combination thereof: This suit has everything you need to succeed -and excel!- in any of those roles. The basic inner suit is a half centimeter thick layer of CNT muscle fibers that pack the raw physical power of a Wanzer into every limb, sandwiched between an insulating layer of Bio-Gel that regulates the health of the wearer, and an outer skin of ballistic-resistant plastic. The segmented middle plating maximizes protection and flexibility-"

"Couldn't stop a heat knife," commented Jane.

"Details, details!" dismissed Hein. "Where was I? Ah yes! And the outer plates are a ceramic composite designed to absorb kinetic and energy weapon fire. The integrated mini-frame has over three times the processing power of the best military grade Omni-Tools, and its linked to eight Omni-Gel emitters and twenty-four, individually cored shield emitters."

"So it's basically one big Omni-Tool?" asked Ryan, his hand raised.

"Yes! Yes, exactly!"

Ryan rose his hand again: "Can it make an Omni-Shield?"

"It can make Omni-_Armor_!" Hein typed a few commands in his Omni-Tool, and the 108 responded by opening its central gold-bronze chest plate. A mist of Omni-Gel sprayed out from the uncovered emitter, and molded itself into a solid shape, creating a glowing, transparent plate of armor that floated over the chest. Ryan approved of this: this could raise his chances of survival considerably, since being a USMC Sentinel was dangerous work... Too bad the suit wasn't his size.

Jensen approached the suit, examining it. "Armor's a bit bare on the arms."

Hein nodded. "The modular design of the armor is basically the same idea behind the ease of modification of Wanzers. See the sockets on the arms? A variety of different armlets can be mounted for a variety of mission roles, ditto for the legs. There's blade armlets, gun armlets, missile armlets... There's rocket boots, roller-skate boots..."

"I don't see any of that in the box... except maybe for that blade and..." Jensen pointed at some kind of hexagonal plate (which looked more like a triangle with its points cut off). "What is that?"

"That's the Pelta EM shield system and the the Fandango Blade. The other cool stuff... " Hein winced. "Tsk! Well, I couldn't save everything from the Phased Plasma torches when Tokugawa Heavy Industries grabbed every piece of Shinkawa hardware that I couldn't. Bastards wasted good tech. Don't worry, I'll have a couple of armlets machined first thing in the morning. Speaking of which..." He clapped his hands. "Everyone! Time to get some shut eye! I want everyone well rested! Tomorrow we put the 108 through its first paces, first thing after eggs and bakey at oh six hundred hours ship time. Dismissed!"

The Deep Eyes scattered, getting back to some unfinished business before bed time. Jensen just stood there, looking at the armor that he would be wearing for the next few days, familiarizing himself with its potential weaknesses. Aki and Garrus joined him as Hein excused himself, as he had some research to do in his quarters.

"What Hein failed to mention..." said Aki. "Is that Shinkawa went through a dozen testers trying to get this thing to work at its full potential. The scandal and the resulting lawsuits bankrupted the company."

"Those testers weren't Jensen." said Garrus as he patted his partner on the back. "His bones are metal!"

"Most of them, anyways." said Jensen.

"Still," continued Aki. "I'll talk to Hein and see if we can begin testing the 108 at low output. Knowing Hein, he'll want to get the best results as soon as possible. The CNT muscle fibers could potentially mangle even Jensen."

"Sounds reasonable. Jensen, what do you think?"

Jensen rose his finger, silently telling Garrus to be quiet for a moment, and let out a long yawn. "I think I'm ready to go to bed. It's been a long day, between Biotic AIA agents, death squads, and blackmailing DARPA chiefs..."

Aki smiled. "Very well, let's get you set up in the sick bay, shall we?"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Alright, straps or no straps?" Ross asked Jensen as he lay on the bed.

"Excuse me?"

"I think," said Garrus coyly, "that the good Doctor is asking if you're a dom or a sub."

"No, I'm asking If Jensen would prefer to be strapped down on the bed or not. You'll be getting eight hours of REM sleep, and that increases the likelihood of nightmares. It can cause a lot of involuntary movements, and since you've got superpowered limbs..."

"...You're worried that I'll break something," completed Jensen. "Fine, strap me down, if it'll make you feel better."

Aki put some flexible straps over Jensen's arms and legs and tied him down to the bed. They weren't exactly tight, but he would still need to put a conscious effort to free himself from them.

"So Doctor," asked Garrus. "What is this Dream Catcher going to do to Jensen's brain?"

"It's just going to have a look into it, and record his dreams. Hein will be reviewing them, as far as I understand the specifics of your deal with him."

"Hmph."

"Don't worry, I've done this before! The Dream Catcher is one of the safest pieces of psycho-cybernetic technology in Sol."

"Well I'm a little worried he won't be able to tie his own shoelaces when its through with him."

"You want vegetables? Try the Order's so called 'Soul Scanners'!" Ross made air quotes for emphasis as the Dream Catcher set itself up around Jensen's head. "Those things are almost _guaranteed_ to fry braincells."

Ross loaded up an injector gun with a sleeping aid, and pressed it against Jensen's neck. A hiss, and Jensen started feeling groggy already.

"Garrus?" asked Jensen. "Do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"If I wake up and start going off about what a swell guy Hein is, shoot me in the head."

"Will do!"

"Thanks, you're... you're a pal..."

And just like that, Jensen fell asleep.

_**~[h+]~**_

_It was such a thrilling experience for Tali, to walk barefooted on silver sands as the wind gently caressed her bare legs and arms. A pale yellow sundress hovered her skin, and as Tali looked down she realized that this wasn't her body. The skin was a shade of pale brown - or was it pink? - and her hands... they had five fingers. Five! Tali tested them, and smiled. How very weird!_

_Tali pulled her gaze away from her avatar, and marveled at the blue sky above her. The pale outline of a moon and round white clouds floated in a canvas of what was the strongest, deepest shade of Azure Tali had ever laid eyes on. The sound of the waves gently crashing on the shore set a rhythm that Tali lost herself to, and before long, dusk came._

_As promised, the sunset was indeed multicolored, although the streams of hues never strayed far from oranges and yellows. Tali wasn't disappointed in the least, as the calm sunset proved to be a feast for the senses._

_She felt something - no, _someone - _walk beside her, and with a slight start she turned to face a tall figure, robed in tan cloths that reminded Tali of the ancient Quarian priests of old. It turned its face to her, and she noted that its face was covered in a helmet, its eyes shone in a bright yellow-green light that contrasted beautifully with the ambient oranges and reds that the sunset cast on the world. Specks of green and blue light streamed across its face, chest and arms in a circuit of seams cut into its smooth, metallic plating. There was something about the stranger's presence that was both emotionally entrancing and yet mentally unbearable, as if his mere presence was an idea so complex Tali's mind strained to understand it._

_It spoke in a voice that seemed so young, and yet infused with unparalleled wisdom, kindness... and sorrow._

_**"Don't be afraid."**_

_But as he spoke, the sky began to shatter, the sand began to melt, and the water began to turn into mist. Tali was surprised at her own calm at the sight of what seemed like the end of all things... right up until her human skin ripped apart, making way for the plastic and leather of her enviro-suit... and she found herself crying._

_"No, please! Don't put me back in this... in this **cage**!"_

_But it was too late, the dream had collapsed._

_**~[h+]~**_

Tali gasped, and opened her eyes. She found herself staring at... a piece of yellow paper stuck on her visor. She pulled it off, and noticed something was written on it. It took a moment before her eyes focused on her translator's AR text. It read:

_Tali plz report to the Cargo bay 6:00 ship time Need help with suit adjustments -Edgar_

_PS: Hope you had sweet dreams ;)_

_PPS: Don't wake Jensen up_

Tali flipped the piece of paper, and on the back it said:

_PPPS: Srsly don't do it._

Tali heard someone groan to her right: It was Jensen, strapped down to the Dream Catcher, trying to toss and turn while his dreams persecuted him. Tali simply... stared at him, unsure as to what to do. On the one hand, there was her saviour, in obvious pain as an uncaring machine peered inside his mind while he endured what seemed to be a nightmare. On the other hand, his prostheses kept reminding her of pictures of the ancient Geth she saw on every school day during her childhood. They were always shown to her with this litany, repeated three times to carve a terrible lesson in the minds of quarian children:

_Know the face of your enemy. Know the visage those who exiled us from our rightful homeworld. Know the shape of those who nearly drove us to extinction._ _Know the form of what you must kill, lest you be killed by it._

It was hard to separate her undying... gratitude? Yes, gratitude, from almost two decades of ingrained, generational hatred. There were now fused together, as Jensen's robotic arms were grafted on his flesh. She had tried to separate those conflicting feelings the whole time she was repairing that knee actuator, and she had almost succeeded until she saw the electronics that practically perforated Jensen's brain. How much of his thoughts were his and not a computer's? Was there still a soul in there or did that bullet that scarred his brain kill it? Amidst these thoughts, the one that haunted her the most was that she had been saved by, of all things, a _machine_, not a person. Was his suffering real? Or some simulation designed to prey on her feelings? Tali just stared and stared, conflicted, hoping that watching Jensen would somehow tell the truth of the matter.

"Megan..." Jensen muttered. That name, he said it with so much sorrow and regret. It cut through her doubts, and she rose from her bed, intent on freeing Adam from the Dream Catcher's grasp. She had barely made it to the foot of his bed when someone spoke:

"I wouldn't do that if I were you. I mean, I left you that Post-It for a _reason._"

Tali nearly leapt out of her suit in fright, and turned behind her at the source of the voice. Sitting casually at Dr Ross' desk was Hein, staring at streams of undecipherable data as he leaned back against the desk chair with his feet up on the desk. He had taken a puff out of a cigarette - a real one - and promptly put it in a metallic cylinder, which he then pocketed.

"Between the horrible flashback and the meds, attempting to physically wake him might cause him to react violently. Keep in mind, Jensen can outpunch a Krogan, so..."

Tali backed away, afraid. She had seen what an angry Krogan could do. The memory of a Batarian's brains splattered on a wall was not a pleasant one, and the thought of that happening to her...

"Smart girl." Hein smiled and beckoned her to come closer.

"Colonel Hein, what are you doing?" Tali asked, almost accusingly as she saw the data streams. Try as she might, she couldn't decipher it mentally: the symbols used were so... alien.

"Please, let's not stand on formality. After all, I've seen you naked."

"Yes..." Tali gritted her teeth, annoyed. "You did. Mister Hein..."

"Call me Edgar! Or Ed!" Hein smiled. "As for what I'm doing, I'm taking a sneak peak at Jensen's dreams while the Dream Catcher compiles them into a real time audio video file."

"You can read _this_?"

"Oh, I can make out a few things here and there." He pointed at the screen. "Here we have a Brunette... and here we have glass, and here we have horrible physical pain... Here we have fire... Oh, let me take compile a short preview vid for you."

With a few keystrokes, Hein conjured up a short, one second video of a harsh looking human with a black shirt and red arms aiming a gun at the 'camera'. He fired it, and the video looped, over and over again.

"Ouch," quipped Hein, "_that_ will wake you in the morning... Or, um, put you to sleep for good."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you forcing him to sit through this nightmare?"

"Hey now! The Dream Catcher isn't influencing his dreams at all! it's simply recording them. This nightmare is of his own making. Don't worry so much! After all he's only got two more hours of this to go bef-"

The holographic screen went from standard red-orange to yellow-green, and a mess of even more complex data surged out of the screen.

"Ah, there you are again you little bastard!" Hein put his legs down and began to type commands in furiously at speeds Tali could only envy. Humans certainly could make full use of all five of their fingers, especially when keyboards were involved.

Hein continued to work like this for ten whole minutes. Tali politely cleared her throat, trying to get his attention, but the man was completely focused. Just as she was about to leave, Hein began to relax back into the chair.

"There, done. Where was I? Ah yes, in answer to your question, I'm putting Jensen through the Dream Catcher because, well, quite frankly, he stole something from me, and now I'm getting it back."

"What did he steal from you?"

"The contents of a Prothean Beacon." Hein disconnected a data drive from Dr Ross' computer and opened it, revealing a hexagonal chip. "Do you remember this?"

"That's the chip you wanted me to have a look at. I'm sorry I couldn't fix it."

"Oh, don't you worry about that. The thing about this chip is that it served as a backup memory device for none other than Lieutenant Commander Shepard, who-"

"-came in contact with a Beacon on Eden Prime. I know."

"Exactly. But instead of getting a bad case of Beacon Contact Syndrome, Shepard managed to mentally shunt the unimaginable amount of data into this chip. Sadly, it nearly completely erased the memories backed up into it, and the Prothean data was completely scrambled. Jensen, in a misguided attempt to find and apprehend Shepard's killer, snuck onboard Durendal and interfaced with the chip, and the contents were uploaded directly into his brain."

"Does that mean he's going to go insane?"

"Oh, no no no! I mean, I thought so too at first, and I managed to rope him into sleeping here to pull out as much as the data as possible before he went completely bonkers. But here's the thing, despite a few... lingering issues here and there, Jensen isn't even at Stage 1 of BCS. In fact, his brain seems to be perfectly stable despite having soaked in an entire Prothean library.

Tali was shocked: any spacefaring race knew the dangers of interfacing with a Prothean beacon too long. "How is that possible?"

"I have no idea! Maybe his brain implants are keeping him stable? Maybe he's some kind of genius? Or maybe he's really secretly the last of the Protheans?" Hein snickered.

"Leave them alone..." Jensen muttered. "It's me you want..."

"Can't you make the process less... painful for him?" asked Tali. "Please, there's no way you can pull everything you want in just one session anyways. Hasn't he had enough for tonight?"

"He wouldn't be in this thing if he hadn't foolishly plugged into hardware with no real idea with what was inside. If anything, he's practically punishing himself."

Jensen groaned, mournfully. "I'm sorry..."

"See? He's sorry! Who am I to stop his own self-flagellation?"

"Fahl... I'm so sorry..."

Tali pleaded with her eyes, and Hein folded. "Gah! Just, argh! Enough with the you-kicked-my-puppy eyes! I can stimulate the areas of his brain where the pleasant memories lie. He should start dreaming about that instead." Hein typed a few commands in the computer as he sulked. "There we go, we just have to wait while the DC scans Jensen's mind and, hm, there's something promising here."

Two images appeared on the console. One was that of a sky colored Asari woman with the most beautiful blue in blue eyes Tali had ever seen. Glossy black, mechanical hands cradled her face and wiped a tear of joy away. Another image showed a little human girl with silver hair, laughing as she was held up high by Jensen.

"Memories of happier days gone by, earned in blood," commented Hein mysteriously, "and drowned in flames. Let's stimulate that bit and... There. Instant sweet dreams."

Jensen's groaning, tossing and turning stopped. Tali breathed a sigh of relief.

"So, how do you feel about our mysterious passenger?" Hein asked. "I'm curious, since you spent at least ten whole minutes just staring at him after you woke up."

"You - you saw that?"

"I see _everything._"

"Why do you care what I think about him?" Tali said, shaking her head.

"Well, he'll no doubt need your expert hands again in the future, and I just want to make sure you don't suddenly go 'kill all the robots'. You know, because of that whole Geth/Quarian thing a few centuries back?"

"I... I don't know how to feel about him. He saved me from Saren's clutches, but I don't know if I can respect the kind of man willing to sacrifice his own flesh for the sake of power. I mean, _look_ at him! At which point did he decide that enough was enough? Did he decide at all? What is he willing to do to get more?"

Hein took a deep, patient breath, and sighed it out like a disappointed parent. "I know... _exactly_, what you mean. Zorah. But you don't need to worry about that with him: according to my research, Jensen's extensive augmentations were not of his choosing." Hein pulled a green book out of his coat, with the words 'Project Galahad' written on it with a black marker. "It's all here, but let me sum it up for you: bad shit happened, he was torn up, and his boss decided to cram every piece of cutting edge technology at his disposal to turn him into his own personal attack dog."

"...What kind of sick monster would do that to someone?"

"Someone that wanted answers? Justice? Revenge? Doesn't matter. But I believe that David Sarif, the man that did this, understood a simple truth: Those that crave power cannot hope to control it. They inevitably become consumed by a thirst for more. This is the great irony of the human - no, the **sentient** condition. The only people you can trust with power... are those that do not want it. Those that never ask for it. Sarif saw that in Jensen, saw in him the perfect agent, one that could use the strength and abilities granted to him with both restraint and wisdom."

"What if you're wrong? What if this Sarif just wanted a killing machine, and that's exactly what he got?"

"Am I now? Let's be honest here: anyone this heavily augmented would thrive as a warlord in the Terminus, where might makes right. Jensen? He tried his hands at being a _farmer_ on Elysium. While many ran and cowered in their bunkers during the Blitz, Jensen took up arms to defend a people that did nothing but view him with suspicion and scorn. Over ten thousand people owe him their lives, and while all of them proved grateful in the end, The Alliance decided that this would not do, and had their buddies in the Templars burn his home. He then spent the next six to seven years righting wrongs and capturing dangerous criminals, making the Citadel a safer place and earning the respect of his co-workers in C-Sec. His reward for that?" Hein rose from his seat, coming face to face with Tali. "The Alliance plots to capture him and sell him out to the Order for making vanilla humans look bad. His reward for saving the life of a Quarian Pilgrim, exposing a corrupt Spectre in the process? The Council doesn't even give him so much as a pat on the head, and the pilgrim can't get past his mechanical parts and views him with _suspicion and fear._"

Tali found herself staring at her feet, and Hein raised her chin with his finger, then put his hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes. "And you know what else? You could spit on his face and curse his name, and he'd still come to your help. That's pretty much how Brea treated him, and look at what he did: He killed twelve heavily armed men to save her life! What does his actions say about him, hm? I dare say it vindicates my estimation of him. And that's why I'm giving him the 108. I'm going to turn Jensen into the most powerful human being in the Galaxy. I'm going to make the rest of mankind turn green with envy and stew in their jealousy as Jensen comes to their rescue, again and again and again, and go mad when he fails to turn into the monster they all expect him to be."

"Rescue humanity? You mean from Saren?"

"Saren?!" Hein cackled. "Yes, Saren, of course... Him and-" Hein pulled Tali close and whispered in her ear. "-the monsters that hide under your bed, and sleep in the dark."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: PLANETARY NETWORKS: OZ<p>

OZ is the primary (indeed, the only) planetary network service provider on planet Earth. During the decades of reconstruction after the dark times brought upon by the Collapse, one of the main priorities in rebuilding earth's civilizations was the reestablishment of telecommunications, particularly the global network called the 'Internet'. While each country was having moderate success in restoring it, it was the World Trade Organization that stepped in and coordinated all these efforts, uniting hundreds of disparate national electronic networks into a single entity. Through clever deals and the occasional buy outs, the WTO effectively took control of nearly all telecommunications on Earth, and has been criticized by various extranet hacker groups for its monopoly.

Accessing OZ is a lot like playing a simple massive-multiplayer computer game with an easy-to-use social networking system. A user controls an avatar within a virtual city made up of shops, malls and restaurants which serve as representatives of real, actual brands. Government agencies also maintain virtual offices in OZ, and a user can pay his or her taxes or file documents through them.

Seventy-five percent of the content on OZ can be viewed on a free account from any terminal or computer in the world. In order to access the other twenty-five percent (such as games, movies and music), the user must pay with OZ's own digital currency (the OZ point) and must have a valid embedded RFID chip for adult content. Submitting user-created content requires a Silver Premium account and the submission process can take days while it is inspected for malware. A Gold Premium user can have his content up live within hours.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: Again, apologies to biologists if I got anything wrong. Fyodor's art style is reminiscent of Yoshitaka Amano and Akihiko Yoshida's. OZ is basically facebookgoogle combined with a free to play mmo, reigning supreme over the internet.**

**I illustrated the Shinkawa 108 power suit and posted the image on my deviantArt gallery. Look up my author's name on DevArt if you wanna check it out.  
><strong>

**Special thanks to Setokaiva for spellchecking this chapter.  
><strong>


	22. Chapter 19: The Durendal part II

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 19: The Durendal part 2**_

_**or**_

_**Jensen cooks a bear  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

_Early Author's note: Just imagine Fall-from-Grave when Fahl is talking. I certainly did :)_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen opened his eyes, the echoes of the past growing more distant as his consciousness took over. He freed himself from the straps and sat up, pondering over his recent experience in the Dream Catcher.<p>

It hadn't been very pleasant, but then again, his nights hadn't been pleasant for a long time. Come to think of it, the real problem had been that drug Aki had given him: He always woke up before things could get really, really messed up, when the adrenaline kicked him awake. But last night, the drug had kept him asleep, forcing him to experience flashbacks and memories best left buried: the Tyrant's attack on Sarif HQ, the incident at Panchaea 05, Elysium. The last part had turned out to be the most pleasant, and yet, turned to be the most bitter part of the experience. During his last moments of slumber, Jensen found himself looping through one of the peaceful days with Fahl and Sunny after the Blitz. He kept expecting everything the templars to come out of nowhere and burn everything, but before they could, Jensen looped back, over and over again. Eventually, he woke up... and found himself wanting to go back to sleep, back to that house on the hill...

_No. Those days are gone. Let old ghosts rest. Just let it..._

_..._

_At the river dock, just as Jensen disembarked, Sunny ran up to him. "Papa!" she shouted, and Jensen grabbed her by the sides, lifted her and twirled her around. She laughed, and after three spins Fahl walked up to them both, her posture graceful and demure as always, her expression amused and a bit disapproving at the same time. _

_"That's one spin too many, Adam." said Fahl. "She's just had dinner, and I fear you'll make her sick."_

_"Oh?" Jensen set Sunny down. "I'm sorry I missed dinner, then. What did you have to eat?"_

_"Another block of carboard-ey paste." said Sunny, bitterly pouting. "Bleagh!"_

_"Well, tomorrow we'll eat something better." Jensen withdrew a few groceries out of his bag. "Eggs, bacon and potatoes for breakfast! How does that sound?"_

_"That sounds wonderful! Let's have some right now!"_

"Sunny," _Fahl put her hand atop Sunny's head._ _"Gluttony is not a virtue._"

_"Aw..."_

_..._

_"Fresh food's at a premium right now." said Adam as he came downstairs. The living room was lit by a few candles: the power had been cut a month ago, and Adam didn't want to waste the last power cell. "I had to pay 50 platinum for the eggs and twice that for the bacon." He handed a bag of platinum coins to Fahl. "Once the wheat is harvested we should be able to sell it at a decent price."_

_"How did you come by this? I can't expect a whole lot of people would be willing to part with coin, things being as they are."_

_"Well, you know how it is," Adam chuckled and rubbed the back of his head. "there's always someone just waiting for a guy like me to lend a helping hand."_

_"... Adam?"_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Don't lie to me. How did you come by this?"_

_"... Reynolds put together a posse to hunt down some marauders, leftovers from Haliat's horde. He paid me once-"_

_"Adam! You promised you were done with this!"_

_"They were a danger to the colonists, and Sunny... Sunny needs to eat better. I didn't have much of a choice."_

_"You could have left it to Reynolds, or even the Alliance soldiers. Why couldn't you?"_

_"...You know me. I just can't abandon people in need."_

_"One day, you will have to."_

_"...Fahl?"_

_"Listen to me: There will **always** be someone in need. There will always a villain to capture, always a monster to slay. Will you continue to pursue them forever? My worst nightmare, Adam, is seeing you fight battles for the needy until the end of time, never once knowing peace, with no one knowing or caring about your struggles..."_

_..._

"Adam?" prodded Dr. Ross, snapping Jensen out of his reminiscense. He hadn't even heard her come in. "How are you feeling?"

Jensen took a deep breath as he considered the question. "Pretty good, actually. I can't say that I slept pleasantly on account of some bad dreams, but I slept."

"Bad dreams? Have you been getting a lot of those lately?"

"...Yeah."

"Would you like to talk about them?"

"...No. Maybe another time. Look, I've got some work to do. What time is it?"

"Oh six-hundred and thirty, ship time. Everyone's taken their showers and had breakfast already, so nobody will be disturbing your morning routine. Oh! Speaking of which..."

The doctor handed Jensen a small waterproof plastic pack. "That's a standard military bathroom kit for men. Shampoo, toothbrush, everything you need. It's even got a small razor and shaving cream. It's all concentrate, so don't use too much at once. And this..." she handed him a set of clothes vacuum sealed in plastic. "Is a Navy service uniform. You've been sleeping in your clothes, and I thought you might want to change.

"Thanks." said Jensen as he got up to leave. "I appreciate it."

"No problem. Oh, and Jensen?"

"Yes?"

"If you need help with the dreams, my door is always open."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Durendal's showers reminded Jensen of those they had back in his high school's gym, all ceramic walls and pipes and zero privacy, with showerheads on every wall, both pillars, and even some on the ceiling; it was a design that favored getting as many sailors and marines clean as quickly as possible, dignity be damned. He was glad the Deep Eyes had already cleaned themselves up: after getting his augs, Jensen had become a bit shy when it came to nudity. People with strong anti-aug sentiment insulted him on the streets while fully clothed. What would have they said if he had walked around without a shirt, seeing the screws in his chest that kept metal bars fixed on this chest? Or the strip of carbon and plastic on his back that covered his spine?<p>

Jesen had decided to use one of the showerheads on the rightmost pillar, and the cold drizzle washed away the smell built up from a night of cold sweats. He looked up at the shower head, letting the cold water splashed over his face, chasing the last remaining amounts of sleep inertia. Droplets fell harmlessly over his naked eyes, and he kept them wide open, letting the water warp his vision.

He noticed movement on his left, and saw Jane Proudfoot, all sweaty, casually removing her sports bra and underwear. She stuffed them in a locker, and switched on one of the showerheads on the left pillar and then started scrubbing herself down with a bar of soap. Jensen didn't mean to stare, but she had an intimidating physique, with well defined muscles and a skin marred with criss crossing scars.

"Jensen." she greeted casually.

"...Proudfoot?"

At his expression of shock, Jane smirked. "What? Ma and Pa Jensen never sat you down and told you about the differences between girls and boys?"

"No, no they did, I just - I forgot I was in the twenty-second century for a second. Not used to sharing showers with women, that's all."

"Thought you C-Sec boys got to shower with Asari cops?"

_Don't think about the Leda twins Don't think about the Leda twins Don't think about the Leda twins _

"Well, yeah, until the first human women in C-Sec complained about showering with the men. The higher ups reassigned the shower facilities between the human genders... and then the women complained that they couldn't shower with the Asari anymore."

"Heh."

After that chuckle, Jane went back to washing herself, barely paying Jensen any attention. He did the same, and started brushing his teeth. Save some time, he figured.

"So how'd you get that scar?"

Jensen spat out a glob of minty foam. "Which one?"

Jane pointed at her forehead.

"That one?" Jensen replied. "Some mercs attacked the building I worked at. One of them shot me in the head after tossing me through a pane of glass."

"Damn."

"Yeah. What about you?"

"Pick one."

"The big one on your back."

"...I got that one from a Venezuelan freedom fighter. Fucker had a heat knife, melted right past my armor."

"...Hope you made the guy pay for it."

"You bet. I even kept his knife as a souvenir."

"Are all the scars from Venezuela?"

"Most of them, yeah. The rest I got on Mars. And you? Where did the rest of your scars come from? Can't be anything major: you can barely see them, but you've got a lot."

One of the perks of the Sentinel System: It repaired severe cuts and tears with minimal scarring. "I got the rest of these during the Corporate Wars. A few more I got on Elysium during the Blitz."

"Huh. Read about the Corporate Wars. They don't mention you in the history books."

"It wasn't the kind of war that had heroes in it. Just pawns and their kings."

Jane and Jensen didn't say a word to one another until they got dressed, putting on their fresh clothes. Jensen put on his dark navy blue outfit, a plain buttom shirt with pants to match. The uniform, he noticed, had his name printed on it, although it didn't have any rank insignias. Jane just put on a pair of digital camo combat pants and a tanktop with the Deep Eyes logo (a frowning eye set in a circle) printed on it in light gray. As she tied her combat boots, she asked Jensen another question.

"What was it like? Elysium, I mean."

Jensen said nothing as he got up to leave.

"Well?" Jane insisted.

"Seven million and five hundred thousand people died after Haliat dropped Bellum gas bombs on every major city and the infected started raping and eating their friends and family. What do you _think_ that was like?"

"I'm sorry, I just-"

"Look, I get the whole 'let's bond over war stories' thing, but Elysium? That's something I don't ever, ever want to talk about."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The door to the elevator hissed and parted, and Jensen walked out of the elevator and stepped into the Cargo bay. Nearby, Aki and Hein were arguing.<p>

"Look, all I'm saying is that maybe we should start at zero point two percent?" suggested Aki as Hein made more adjustments to the 108. It lay wide open on a reclined examination chair in the cargo bay, patiently waiting for someone to wear it. "Start small, give the suit's VI a chance to adjust to Jensen's movements."

"Oh, no no no!" dismissed Hein. "Point two is just too low! His body can handle a full percent."

"According to the specs you sent me the 108 can lift a quarter of a ton at one percent! I'm a little worried that Jensen might accidentally hurt or maim Ryan."

"Ryan will be in full gear and allowed use of his Omni-Tools. He'll be fine!"

"Well, I'll have an application of Medi-Gel ready just in case. And a crash cart."

Jensen approached the pair, and Hein looked up as he noticed him.

"Ah, Jensen!" greeted Hein. "How good of you to join us! I take it you had a good night's sleep?"

"As good as I'm ever going to get, anyways." said Jensen as he approached the armor. "Let's just get this over with."

"Of course, of course, but first..." Hein grabbed two pairs of cables from spools in the back of the 108's open neck seal. "Mind plugging these into your data jacks?"

Jensen started backing away, staring at the cables as if they were venomous snakes. "Excuse me?"

"I want to synchronize the suit's mini-frame with your own neural hub, and give you a direct connection to the helmet's sensors so that its HUD doesn't interfere with your AR vision. I also want you to be able to alter the suit's VI's settings and programming, and while we're at it, make some updates to your security software. You're kind of out of date."

"If you think I'm going to let you in my head, think again."

Hein rolled his eyes. "Jensen, please. If I had wanted to corrupt and scramble your brains, I could have done it while you slept. Besides, I'm not the one constantly transmitting a codec signal."

"What? I'm not transmitting any-"

"Your frequency is 120.85." Hein said out loud. And then, Hein's voice echoed in Jensen's ear. _"It's a wonder no one's hacked you already, really. Your firewall has more holes in it than Swiss cheese."_

Jensen double checked the status of his wireless transmitter on his AR interface. It had indeed been turned on, but for the life of him, Jensen didn't know when and how. He had switched it off years ago to avoid getting hacked... He switched it back off, only for it to start transmitting again...

_What in the hell? _he thought. Adam inspected the data being transmitted through his wireless, but it was pure nonsense. What in blazes was going on?

"I think somebody already has." said Jensen, half-accusingly.

"Well then! I really should have a better look in there, shouldn't I?"

"...Fine. Do it."

"Excellent! Dr Ross..." Hein handed the cables to Aki, "would you do the honors?"

"...Alright," Aki complied, took the cables in her hand and went behind Jensen. "Hold still..." she said, as she lifted some of Jensen's hair away to have a better look. A pleasant shiver ran through his spine at she felt the back of his neck for the ports. "Now, where are they..."

Jensen mentally opened up the fake skin plates that covered the ports.

"Ah, there they are!" she said as she carefully plugged the cables. Satisfied that the connection was made, Hein proceeded to put the examination chair's back in the upright position, making the 108 'sit up'.

"Take off your shoes and sit." he commanded. Jensen complied, and once his fingers were fit inside the gloves, and he was comfortably lined up inside the suit, it closed down around him, sealing his body inside. His vision blacked out a for a moment, and his Neural Hub rebooted. The start-up screen was completely different.

LOAD BIOS

LOAD APS-OS v0.90b

MEMORY SET

SYSTEM STATUS OK

NEW HARDWARE DETECTED

SYNCHRONIZING...

"So far so good," said Hein as he stared into his datapad.

ERROR - SUBJECT'S ARMS NOT FOUND

ERROR- SUBJECT'S LEGS NOT FOUND

ERROR- ANOMALOUS HEART READINGS

CONTACTING EMERGENCY MEDICAL SERVICES - NOT FOUND

APPLYING MEDI-GEL - MEDI-GEL TANKS EMPTY - PLEASE REFILL

ERROR

"Oops, the APS doesn't know its dealing with a cyborg. Give me a moment..." Hein quickly typed in override commands in his datapad. "And... there."

OVERRIDE

SHINKAWA APS 108 OS v0.90b -Developer Edition

WELCOME, WEARER

An entirely different AR HUD appeared in Jensen's vision. While his original HUD's graphic design favored black and gold, the new one favored black, teal and orange, and was even more minimalist and dynamic. A variety of status windows appeared and vanished out of sight, waiting to be called upon when needed. Jensen looked at his hand and flexed his fingers. He had some difficulty in controlling them, not to mention keeping his forearm steady.

"Put the helmet on him, Doctor."

Jensen wondered why Ross was being so hands-on with this - hell, he could handle putting on a helmet by himself - but then he realized that it was no doubt a calculated move by Hein to mollify him. It had been six years since Jensen had been touched by a beautiful woman, or even been this close to one (Brea didn't quite count in his mind, considering the circumstances). He cursed himself: it had worked. He had pretty much stopped protesting getting plugged to the suit once Ross was tasked with it, just like he didn't mind so much as she put the helmet in its collapsed form around his jaw and neck.

HELMET CONNECTED

ARTEMIS SENSOR SYSTEM CONNECTED - DRIVERS FOUND

The helmet unfolded itself, its plates unfurling and sliding into place around Jensen's head. He was completely blind for a moment, until seven million micro-lasers projected a high resolution image into his eyes. He saw double for a moment, until the suit's VI adjusted the perception of depth. Jensen looked around, and there was this weird delay between the movement of his eyes and the movement of the image. He suspected he'd be getting a headache before long.

A crosshair appeared in the middle of Jensen's vision.

"Let's test out the IMREC's acquisition and tracking." said Hein. He was being quite professional, Jensen noticed. Aki took out a pencil light with her left hand and put it up in front of Jensen.

"Lock on to the light, please?"

"How?"

"Just focus the crosshair on the object. A targeting outline should appear over it."

"Alright..." after a split second, the suit's sensors did indeed lock on the pencil. "Wait, is this some kind of test to see if I can look around? What's the point of that?"

"Not quite, hold perfectly still, and don't try to follow the pencil with your eyes..." Ross moved the pencil around, and the cross-hair tracked it. "Is it still tracking?"

"Yes."

Aki moved the pencil, faster and faster until it was a blur, and the visual lock held. "How about now?"

"Still tracking."

"Good. Any issues with the helmet's micro projectors?"

"There's this weird delay between my eye's movements and the image..."

Hein typed a few commands on this datapad, correcting the mistake "How is it now, Jensen?"

"...Better."

"Alright then!" Hein exclaimed. "Now that we're certain you won't be walking into any walls, let's try and have you walk around. Get up, now..."

Jensen tried to rise from his seat, but found himself struggling against the suits own movements. It was almost as if it had a will of its own, like a child trying to please its parent by going overboard.

"Careful," warned Doctor Ross. "The 108's CNT fibers' power is explosive, even at one percent."

"It's kind of a wild horse," added Hein.

Jensen kept on struggling, compensating and sometimes overcompensating for the suits wild movements. Eventually it seemed to be getting the picture that Jensen wasn't trying to destroy the whole goddamned world, and after a few seconds it finally stopped fighting him at every movement. He finally got up from the seat, and took a few steps forward, or tried to. Now the suit thought he wanted to kick everything, and he stumbled and fell. Aki reached out to help him up, but Hein stopped her.

"Explosive power, remember?" he reminded the doctor.

Jensen scrambled on all fours, then managed to rise to a kneeling position... only for the suit to protest and decide that this was a fine pose to stay in.

"Yes, my dark knight. Arise, arise!" commanded Hein jokingly as he put on his best Evil Genius impression. "Muahahahah!"

"_Shut up._" snapped Jensen. He didn't sound quite that menacing, considering he was still trying to get up.

"Well, now, maybe Dr. Ross was right?" Hein taunted. "Maybe I should have set this thing to extra easy mode, hm?"

"No, I can do this..." Jensen rose, but the suit overshot the muscle contractions again and he found himself doing an awkward somersault above both Ross and Hein. He landed almost perfectly, stumbling before finally standing upright. The suit still struggled a bit, but then he casually approached Hein as if it was no problem at all.

"Fantastic! See? I told you he could handle two percent!"

Aki's face blanched. "Two percent?! We agreed on one!"

"Pft! Details... In any case, I think we can move ahead in the schedule and begin with the sparring matches!"

"No! Absolutely not! Jensen will pulverize Ryan just by trying to give him a tap! I don't even want to imagine what he'll do to Jane!"

"Fine, then we'll plug in the Fandango and-"

"He can barely handle the suit at two percent and now you want to give him a _sword_?!"

Jensen cleared his throat politely. "Don't I get a say in this?"

"NO!" shouted Hein and Ross in unison.

"I mean yes, you do!" Aki corrected herself. "There should be a checklist of things to do in your HUD, but before you start anything, we should give you time to accustom yourself to moving inside the suit. I've got a set of basic of exercises for war amputees ready to go in Med-Sci."

"And what do you think I should do?" Jensen asked Hein.

Hein got a mad gleam in his eyes just then. "Oh, we should hit the ground running with some hand-to-hand combat and live fire exercises! Don't worry, I promise I'll set the LAM fuses to at least half a second. Sounds fun, eh? Eh?"

After a pregnant beat loaded with quiet horror, Jensen finally said. "So, war amp exercises, huh?"

Aki smiled and beckoned Jensen to follow her to the elevator. "Oh yes, mostly hand exercises to help hand eye coordination, picking up objects like eggs, tossing and catching them, that sort of thing..."

The elevator door closed behind them, and a severely disappointed Hein sulked, put his hands in his pockets and kicked some invisible dirt on the ground like a petulant five year old boy. Then he smiled, and said to himself:

"Oh well... I can wait."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the mess hall, Ryan was coming back with a bowl of spiced gruel to the table he, Vakarian and Zev had picked for breakfast. Vakarian, as it turned out, had quite a few stories to tell the crew, and he was in the middle of one.<p>

"So let me get this straight," he said to Garrus. "Two Asari surprise Jensen in the shower, start kissing his chest and..."

"And he politely pushes them away. I know, I know..." finished Garrus as he toyed with his dextro paste. Opposite sat Zev, who was eating the same thing through a straw (or Emergency Induction Ports, as the Quarians insisted on calling them).

"I... have a hard time believing that," said Zev. "Bonding with, or even just being pleasured by a pair of Asari is a a highly sought after experience... to have such on opportunity simply fall into his lap and to turn it away? I dare say he lied to you, and happily ravished them!"

Ryan sat down next to the Quarian, and took a spoonful of the gruel. This Lelia girl could work magic with plain synthetic food, and Ryan was quite glad Hein had assigned her to the kitchen. Still, this story was a bit more interesting than the food: "Well, I might have done the same thing in his position. Not every man is into women, you know?"

Zev laughed. "Neither was I, until I met an Asari! They have a way of... making one more flexible. And receptive."

Garrus continued: "I know. Which is why I didn't believe him at first, but then... the twins were always the 'screw them and leave them' type, see? Shortly after Jensen told me the story they started acting really, REALLY weird around him."

"I take it they were angry with him? When women are scorned..." asked Zev.

"Nah, it was more like that they couldn't understand how he had gotten away from them, and they began a campaign of advances that, well... bordered on creepy stalker behavior. When they started with the sexting I understood that he hadn't been making the story up."

"Hey guys!" chimed in Neil as he sat down with his own serving of gruel. "What are we talking about?"

"According to Garrus, Jensen turned down the advances of a pair of Bisexual incestuous police Asari with big hips." supplied Ryan.

"Twins, in fact!" added Zev.

Neil snorted. "Yeah, right! Pics or didn't happen, pal."

"As you wish." Garrus tapped the side of his visor, 'typed' in the empty air, and handed it to Neil. "You're lucky I'm so persuasive: Jensen was going to _delete_ those."

Neil put the curved strip of metal on his head and kept it there with his left hand. The ocular projectors painted his retina with a slideshow of racy pictures of two Asari practically begging Neil to join them right through the projector. The pictures got less and less safe for work (and some of them involved cake, of all things), culminating in a final picture in which they were pleasuring each other.

"...Sweet mother of- Ryan, you have got to see this!"

"Pass," answered the large man. Zev tapped Neil's shoulder, and Neil happily let the Quarian have a look.

"Oh my..." said the mechanic.

"Anyways, the Leda twins changed tactics when the sexting didn't seem to get Jensen interested. After that came the love letters - I haven't got those - written in some VERY purple and increasingly... obsessive prose, and when that didn't work they started sneaking into his house.

Ryan winced. "Uh oh. That couldn't have ended well."

"Jensen finally put his foot down and told them once and for all that he wasn't interested. They didn't take it very well and uh... long story short? They got kicked out of the service for sexual harassment."

"Damn... is this... typical for the guy?" asked Ryan.

"You have no idea." said Garrus as Zev handed him his visor back. He put it back on, and noticed Jensen and Doctor Ross going into the kitchen together. Jensen was walking very slowly, and Ross seemed to be walking him through every step. Neil followed Garrus' gaze.

"Huh, speak of the Devil," he said. "I see Jensen isn't tearing the ship apart. I guess Hein made the right call letting him have a go at it. Speaking of which, how's your new armor, Vakarian? Must feel pretty good, since you're wearing it during breakfast."

"You know us turians: we never go anywhere without armor." Garrus checked himself out. Ryan had successfully mounted the parts of a standard US Marine Corps basic MIPS onto the Agent mk I's basic frame. It was a bit heavy and he didn't have any motorized joints to make up for the extra mass, but he figured he'd get used to that soon enough. "I feel a hell of a lot less naked, too. Agent I's aren't known for their resilience." he turned to Ryan. "Thanks, by the way."

"No worries." responded Ryan. "Hey Neil, you gonna play with your gruel or you're going to eat it?"

"Eh... I don't know, it smells better than usual but it still looks like a bowl of snot, you know?"

"Trust me, our new chef worked miracles on the stuff. I came back for seconds."

"Yeah well, big as you are you NEED your seconds." Neil took a careful sip of the stuff. "Hm! not bad. I mean, it still looks and FEELS like a bowl of snot, but it's tasty snot now. Still gonna fry me a couple of eggs once Doc and Jensen are done with... whatever it is they're doing in the kitchen."

"Well, it seems to be Jensen is trying to impress the good doctor." said Zev suggestively.

"Oh really? How?"

Zev nooded in the direction of the kitchen. "By juggling three of your eggs, apparently. And quite proficiently, as a matter of fact."

Neil's eyes widened as he turned his head to the kitchen, and Jensen was indeed juggling three of the eggs he had bought at the supermarket with his own money. He darted up in a hurry, nearly spilling his bowl of gruel on the table. "No no no I paid a thousand credits for these!"

Sensing a potential confrontation, Ryan and Garrus followed him. Zev, sensing some incoming hilarity, followed them as well.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Aki laughed, amused at Jensen's display of dexterity. "Well, I'm impressed Mr. Jensen: I didn't think you'd be able to tackle something so advanced as juggling so soon."<p>

"Well, it was off to a rocky start, but I managed to tweak some of the suit's code. It should give me less trouble, now.

"I didn't know you were a skilled hardsuit programmer."

Jensen didn't know he was, either. "I... guess I'm full of surprises. Have to admit, though, the hands aren't giving me too many problems."

"That's because the gloves are powered with strips of buckygel rather than CNT fibers. If anything those should improve your dexterity quite a bit."

"What's with the, um..."

"Huge fingernails? According to the user's manual..." she brought up the 108's manual on her datapad. "Those are supposed to be - Oh my."

"What?"

"Oxygen plasma torches."

"I have plasma claws?"

"Apparently."

"Huh. Neat."

"Well, I think we can forgo the rest of the basic exercises and move on straight to the gym. I want to see how much control you have while shadow-boxing. You're obviously comfortable enough with the suit."

"Hm, I haven't had breakfast yet. Mind if I make something for myself first?"

"Oh! Not at all, in fact I'm curious to see-"

"WHAT THE **FUCK** ARE YOU DOING WITH MY EGGS?!" screamed Neil. The sudden noise gave Jensen a bit of a start and - apparently - the suit as well. Jensen briefly lost control, and he only managed to save one egg. The other two were splattered on the floor.

Correction, Jensen hadn't saved any eggs at all: the third one had been crushed under his grasp. So much for improved dexterity.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Drive Core room, Tali found herself face to face with Captain Grey (although, much to her confusion, he wasn't the actual captain of the ship. That honor apparently belonged to Dr Ross, although it seemed Hein was in charge - so strange, these humans). He just barged in, interrupted her work, and questioned her about the Geth, her people, and their history... as if he expected every Quarian to be walking encyclopedias, ready to answer him on the spot.<p>

...Of course, Tali _did_ have a nearly encyclopedic knowledge of the geth, her people and their history, so she was perfectly capable of obliging him. Father had been insistent on giving her personal lessons on subjects far above her grade. And while perfect grades earned her a piece of fruit, any failure cost her dinner, so she was really, _really_ motivated to soak in all that lore.

"Any tactical advice you can give me?" asked Grey.

"I do. Remember what I said about Geth programs 'sharing' brainpower? The larger platforms have more programs in them than the smaller ones."

"So if I take them out first, the rest of a Geth Squad's tactical abilities will be diminished?"

"Exactly. Also, while the Geth platforms seem impressive, they're actually a bit... cheap. They're not quite as sturdy as they look, and they've made up for this by having superior kinetic barriers. Slow hand-to-hand attacks work well on them, if you manage to get close enough..."

"That'll make Jane very happy."

"And of course any anti-shield attacks, from Overload Omni-Tool apps to Phasic rounds, are a definite must when dealing with Geth."

Grey scratched his chin, mentally going over the Durendal's equipment. "...We haven't got any Phasic mods. I'll see to it that everyone in the squad has Thundaga v2 installed on their Wrist Halos, then."

...

_Jensen groaned, mournfully. "I'm sorry..."_

_..._

"Is something wrong, Zorah?" asked Grey.

"Hm? I was just thinking about Jensen... I'm a little worried about him."

"Don't be. If he turns out to be a threat, me and the Deep Eyes are more than capable of taking him out," he said without a hint of malice. "We fought his kind before."

"Uh, I didn't mean... Really, you think you can kill him? I've heard..."

"Jensen's CNT skin can only stand up to a sustained barrage of a Serpent Particle Accelerator Carbine for zero point three seconds." he nodded at his Serpent Rifle, leaning against the wall within arm's reach. "A full second with that... monstrosity Hein gave him. A power shot would vaporize him. Also, CNT materials deform at temperatures exceeding thirty five hundred degrees celsius, which just so happens to be a bit less than the core temperature of a Firaga v3 Incineration bolt application standard in any Marine Omni-Tool, not to mention the edge of a Heat Knife. We've got plenty of those, too."

Tali tried to hide her horror at Grey's cold callousness. "You'll... burn him alive?"

"Failing that, we can always space him. Don't worry, we've put a lot of thought into this. We in the United States Marine Corps, we've got a plan to kill everybody we meet."

Despite herself, Tali found herself imagining Jensen floating helplessly in the vacuum of space, his body burned and melted, his expression frozen in horrible agony. The thought was intrusive and unbearable, and she tried to repress it. The sight of it in her mind's eye only gave her a sinking feeling in her chest, the meaning of which confused her greatly. Was this... sorrow?

_"Do not put your trust in aliens," _her cynical side spoke harshly, with Rael's voice, in the back of her head. _"even as they show you kindness. For you are nothing to them but a useful slave. You may think me a cynic, my child, but the Pilgrimage has shown you, has it not? The only ones you can trust are your fellow Quarians, and no one else."_

Her mother, Shana, spoke in softly in the corner of her thoughts._ "Adam has listened to you, he cared, and proved this small, precious thing to you. And he saved you, my precious little bird! Will you say nothing as this man plots his death?"_

_"Yes...are you **really** that much of an ungrateful little bitch?" _accused Hein's voice, mockingly. Damn him! Would Tali hear him in her private thoughts, too?!

"Permission to speak freely?" requested Tali.

"You're not military, you can speak freely if you want to."

"I don't think Jensen will try to harm you. He saved my life, even if he didn't have to. If anything, he might even come to your defense should the ship come under attack."

"Of course he saved you. You were to be a key witness in a case against Saren."

"Well, yes, but since everyone loathes the very core of us Quarians I probably wouldn't have been called to court, anyways, and-"

"As for Jensen 'coming to the ship's defense', well, I'd expect him to. After all, we're holding his robot girlfriend hostage."

"...What?! You mean the woman in sick bay?... and she's a robot?!"

"Hmph, of course, Hein didn't tell you. He roped Jensen into becoming his latest science project by threatening to let Brea... I guess 'die' is the proper term. I suppose Jensen felt some kind of kinship with the thing. Tell me, what kind of man puts his life on the line for a robot? Because he folded quickly when Hein made his ultimatum."

Tali's feelings of remorse quickly gave way to outrage. Outrage, yes... and something more poisonous.

Jealousy.

"I... I don't know." she answered.

"And Brea can still potentially go non-functional. Once that happens, nothing will stop him from attempting to-"

"From what?" said Hein as he walked up behind Grey. "Take over the ship? Why does everyone suspect the worst of him, hm? It must be the beard. That fine, Evil Overlord Beard worthy of Cesare Borgia. Don't listen to him, Tali. He's just jealous that his ex has got her hands all over him."

Grey scowled. "I am NOT jealous of a cyborg, sir."

"Of cooourse you aren't. He's only a tall, dark and handsome man that likes to brood mysteriously. Aki _totally_ won't be peeling off her panties for him, no siree! Anyways, Ms. Zorah, would you do me the honors of accepting a challenge from a fellow hacker? I have this digital wargame set up, a fortress of code I suspect will take you a whole MINUTE to breach."

Tali was glad at the sudden change of subject. And a bit galled at the veiled insult that doubled as a challenge to her skills as a hacker. "I'm game. I've finished with the core's new stabilizing algorithms. We should be able to reach Caleston by tomorrow night instead of the day after tomorrow in the morning.

"Fantastic!" Hein beamed, but then he became pensive. "Hm, that means I'll have to step up with Jensen's training. Oh well. I take it you're willing?"

"Sure. What's the system will I be breaching? Your PC? The VI core?"

"Jensen's head." Hein answered matter-of-factly.

Tali blinked. "What."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I love this ship!" exclaimed Neil, sitting at the kitchen's counter. "Only on the Durendal can you get the six million dollar man wearing a six billion credit power armor to cook you breakfast. Although I am wondering what's taking so freakin' long? Chop-chop!"<p>

Ryan, sitting next to him, rolled his eyes. "Right, keep antagonizing the multibillion dollar cyborg, Neil, I'm sure nothing bad will happen."

"Hey, he broke those eggs, I'm perfectly justified in grilling him for it."

"He was juggling them just fine 'till you surprised him."

"Meh, details. He was holding the smoking gun!"

"Remind me why I agreed to this?" asked Jensen as he added some ketchup to the synthetic brown rice in the hot frying pan.

"Because I was curious to see if you could handle basic day to day tasks like cooking while wearing power armor," Ross answered. She was on her knees, spraying disinfectant where the eggs had landed. She was very particular about keeping the kitchen as germ free as possible. "Also, We feel really bad about Neil's eggs, don't we?"

"...Yeah, sure. Not sure if Hein will appreciate me getting cooking grease on the suit's gloves."

"That is exactly the sort of thing Hein lives for." said Ryan with a smile. "Oh, and uh, we haven't been properly introduced. Gunnery Sergeant Ryan Whitaker. I take care of the personal armor on the ship. Hein tells me we'll be having a little sparring match later today. Looking forward to it."

Jensen simply saluted with his spatula. "Likewise."

"So Jensen," asked Garrus half-mockingly. "Do you take requests? Because I'm just dying for a field mushrump fried in seasoned butter and-"

"You'll get nothing and you'll enjoy it," answered Jensen dryly.

"Oh fine be that way...I guess you don't want your Omni-Tool back?" Garrus took out Lawson's Omni-Tool and waggled it between his fingers meaningfully.

Jensen eyed Hein's men. "...Does it still have the bugs?"

"Well, yeah."

"...Keep it, then."

"Gotcha... Maybe Zorah can do something with it."

"I could have a look at it, if you like?" offered Zev.

"Oh! uh, nah, this will require a woman's touch, if you know what i mean..."

"Ah, need something to start up a conversation?" Zev nodded approvingly. "I understand... But I must warn you, Tali'Zorah is practically nobility in the Flotilla. She might consider you beneath her station."

Neil was aghast. "Wait wait wait, our new grease monkey is a prin- Ryan did you know Tali is a princess? Holy shit I had her elbow deep in the Copperhead's left engine yesterday! I didn't even say thank you!"

"Looks like it's off with your head, little man." said Ryan jokingly.

"For treating a Zorah like a common serf?' Zev clucked his tongue three times. "Most certainly."

Garrus chuckled. "Hear that Jensen? We saved a princess!"

"Hm." Jensen barely answered, too focused on his cooking to pay any attention. The food was pretty much done, but now he was focused on the presentation, as suggested by Dr. Ross... She came up behind him, inspecting his work.

"Almost done?" she asked eagerly.

"Almost... just need to put those bits of cheese there..."

"Oh! and the fake seaweed..."

"I haven't forgotten."

"Seaweed?" Neil was getting a bit worried, now. "What do you need seaweed for? It's a freakin' omelette!"

Aki ignored him. "Oh that's perfect, that's perfect! May I do the honors?"

"Go ahead." answered Jensen.

Aki served up the dish to Neil, and Garrus and Zev huddled next to the pilot to see what he would be eating. It was a few balls of rice sculpted to look like a cute little teddy bear with bits of cheese for a muzzle and paws. It looked like it was sleeping comfortably in a blanket and on a pillow made out of flat omelettes, sweetly dreaming of... whatever little teddy bears dreamed of. The thing was, simply put, too cute to eat.

"His name is Timmy." said Aki with a smile. "His mommy tucked him into bed after reading him _Le Petit Prince_, and now he dreams of tiny planets populated by fantastic quirky people."

Neil tentatively poked it with his fork. Maybe he could just eat the blanket?

"If you eat it, then you're evil and have no soul." said Aki, her voice soft and filtered through an insincere smile.

"And if you don't," said Jensen as he tweaked his helmet's external speakers to make his voice sound deeper. "_**I will be very disappointed.**_" For a brief second Neil thought Jensen sounded like some kind of menacing, ancient Buddhist demi-god. He tried to poke the rice-bear with the fork again, only for him to imagine it waking up, seeing this giant human looming over it, and silently pleading with big round black seaweed eyes to spare it.

"Why. Why are you doing this to me?" Neil asked Aki.

"You made me clean up those eggs." she answered simply. "Jensen, I think it's time we moved on to the gym?"

Jensen finished washing the grease off of his armored gloves in the sink and picked up a ration bar for himself. "_**Right behind**_** - **I mean, right behind you."

As the doctor and the cyborg left, Neil simply stared at his dish.

"Well?" asked Ryan. "Aren't you going to eat it? That's two hundred and fifty credits worth of eggs cooling in your bowl, there."

"For shame!" protested Zev with mock outrage. "Look at the presentation! This is a work of art that belongs in a museum."

"...I'm not sure I want to be the guy that devours little teddy bears in their sleep..."

Ryan stiffled a laugh. "_Nobody_ wants to be that guy."

"Although I am pretty hungry too." continued Neil. "Maybe I should just eat more of that spiced gruel and freeze this in stasis gel? On the other hand it's a waste of eggs... but on the other OTHER hand I..."

Ryan burst out laughing a little, and he patted Neil on the shoulder. "I feel for you, brother."

Garrus groaned. "Right, well, while you guys struggle with the moral decision of whether or not to eat _food_, I've got to see someone about a faulty Omni-Tool."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So, you can cook?" asked Aki, keeping her distance.<p>

"It's a hobby among many. I like to keep my hands busy. Keeps my mind off things."

Jensen dodged and weaved around a flurry of punches thrown at him by his holographic opponent in the gym's central mat. While he had managed to get the 108's limbs to obey him at two percent output, he had doubts about the torso, and wisely reduced the suit's output before he started practicing his boxing. This proved to be wise, as the suit kept trying to break his spine even as he ducked. After a few corrective tweaks, Jensen brought the suit back to its original output. It started to feel like a second skin, now.

"Does it help with the PTSD?" Aki asked empathetically.

The hologram landed a blow on Jensen's head, and its kinetic barriers 'pushed' it, simulating a hit. Jensen barely felt it, but it annoyed him how easily his concentration had been broken.

"...I don't know what you're talking about." he replied as he started another simulated bout.

"I've been told you were on Elysium when the Blitz started. I've... heard how terrible it was down there."

"I don't want to talk about Elysium."

"You're displaying avoidant behavior, that's one criteria."

"I just don't see how Elysium is any of your business - no offense."

Aki nodded. "You have nightmares - intense ones, judging by what I saw in the Dream Catcher's recording, and recurring ones by your own admission. And you zoned out for a second in the elevator yesterday, with an expression I happen to be very familiar with: You were having a flashback. And since it's been a while since Elysium, I can assume you've been suffering a lot longer than a month. If you don't have PTSD, you have something a lot like it."

Jensen said nothing and kept on shadow-boxing. The hologram's difficulty spiked, and Jensen started punching back.

"...Okay then. Give me the silent treatment if you feel like it, but please, let me give you this bit of advice: It helps to talk about it."

Jensen punched the hologram in its light bulb shaped head, and the difficulty level of the program rose accordingly.

"Your door is always open, I know."

"Not just my door. The Deep Eyes have been through some horrible things on Mars, and Akuze drove them all over the edge. They've been dealing with it for a lot longer than you have, and you might find some solace in talking to kindred spirits. Or you stay in a corner and brood. It's up to you."

"I don't brood."

"Yes you do." Aki said with a smile. "If they had brooding contests, you'd get first prize."

The hologram fought harder, and Jensen stepped up to its challenge, breathing harder. At first he thought it was because of the exercise, but then he realized something was wrong when he started gasping.

"Jensen?" Aki walked approached Jensen, worried. "Are you... are you having a panic attack?"

"Can't..." Jensen gasped. "Can't...breathe."

Aki dismissed the sparring hologram and came up face to face to Jensen. She put her finger on the four emergency switches on the helmet, two on each side of the jaw piece. The helmet's faceplate popped open with a hiss, revealing Jensen's face from brow to upper lip. He breathed in the fresh air with relief.

"I think you were running on the suit's on-board air-supply this whole time," said Aki. "Didn't the suit's HUD warn you?"

"No. I..." Jensen took a deep breath through the nose. "I guess there's still some kinks to work out of the suit's drivers."

Jensen realized that Aki hadn't quite taken her hands off the helmet's jaw piece, and found Aki staring at his eyes. He wasn't sure what she was trying to do - making sure he was okay, or looking to have a moment - but he thought her dark brown eyes were lovely and -

_"FIRMWARE UPDATE OUT OF FUCKING NOWHERE!" _screamed Hein over codec._ "WOO!"_

At the same time an augmented reality blue monochrome video feed window of Hein appeared between Jensen and Aki, but his insane grin quickly dissolved as Jensen's Neural Hub rebooted. He lost his balance and fell forward, and crashed into the good doctor, who yelped in surprise. Adam managed to keep himself from crushing her with his weight, and the back of her head landed on the mat... which wasn't all that thick.

"Ow..." Aki winced.

The Neural Hub had fully rebooted, and Hein's face reappeared.

"Welcome to Jensen's mind version 2.0! Updates include - Hellooooo, what's this? Gasp! Are you trying to force yourself on the good doctor, Jensen? Stranger Danger! Stranger Dangers! Or, or... wait a minute?

Jensen's smart vision switched on, along with the CASIE. It took stock of Aki's respiration, heart rate, and even her blush response at the situation...

"...Ooh! She's consenting! Is this the Florence Nightingale Effect in... effect!? Already?! Wow, you and Ross work fast!" Evidently, Hein decided to interpret the data in his own sick little way. "But hey, don't let me interrupt! Feel free to let nature take its course and have wild monkey sex as god intended. I'll watch. You know, in the interest of science."

"Shut up." Adam said through gritted teeth. Whatever Hein did, it set off some pain receptors in his skull.

"I-I didn't say anything!" protested Aki, a little embarrassed and offended.

"Not you. Hein's got direct access to my Neural Hub's comm package. He's taunting me through it." Jensen rose on his feet, and helped Ross get up.

"Actually," continued Hein. "I'm talking to you through your datajacks via the suit's own telecomm package. _Much_ better bandwidth. Where was I? Ah yes! I took the liberty of updating your Neural Hub's security along with the suit's. We might come across Geth, and I don't want them to have a look inside your brain."

_"My implants don't work that way."_ answered Jensen subvocally as he verbally asked Aki if she was okay. _"The geth would need to have pre-installed hardware installed in my brain in order to mess with it."_

"True enough, but they would definitely take control of some of your implants, or maybe just disable them, Or maybe they'll just take over the suit's functions through you and make it twist and bend in awkward angles and mangle you. Does that sound fun to you?"

It was, Jensen had to admit, a very chilling thought. "Not really, no."

"Of course, the Geth being what they are, any security I come up with without an active Geth to work with isn't going to last long. Thankfully, we've got the next best thing. Ms. Zorah?"

Another window appeared, displaying Tali'Zorah's head and chest. Her image and Hein's were displayed side by side, obscuring most of Jensen's vision. "I'm ready," she said.

"Ready for what, exactly?" asked Jensen.

Hein smiled as he gave Tali the go ahead. "Tali and I are going to be playing a little wargame inside your system. She'll try and attack it and extract a file I've copied in your wet drive, which I've designated... 'Goal'. If she succeeds, I'll just plug the security exploit she used. It should take a couple of min-"

"Done." said Tali.

"...of... minutes. Wait, what? prove it. What are the contents of the file?"

"It's a picture of a cat and something written in mangled Terran English about being inside something and hacking someone's something. I can't translate it."

Hein seemed utterly confused, to Jensen's delight. "How did you... what, how...You didn't even trigger a trace!" Hein typed something on an unseen terminal, checking on some logs, no doubt. "It should at least have taken you two minutes to - Oh, ok ok. You dirty little cheater you. You realize, of course, that this means war..."

Jensen wasn't looking forward to getting another unpleasant reboot. "_Hey, if you're going to force a restart on my systems, you might want to give me a proper warning. I nearly crushed Aki."_

"Oh, don't worry, I'm just going to make alterations to your firewall, no reboots necessary. Feel free to keep up your exercises. And... I see that you've managed to get the 108 to behave itself. That was quicker than expected. Have you tried practicing your free running?"

_"...There's nowhere near enough room in here for a parkour set."_

"True, but there's a holographic gymnastics program besides the sparring one. Going through it should prepare the 108 for the acrobatics involved in a chase. Have fun, Jensen. Oh and uh, one more thing? Don't worry about your comm package transmitting anymore. I've shut it down."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Electronic Warfare Lab consisted of a room half the size of a classroom, with a black monolith (with the words GIBSON MULTICORE Model 95 carved onto its face) in the middle of it connected by cables to the twelve workstations covered in plastic sheets. A pair of larger tubes fed it coolant.<p>

The EW Lab apparently had seen little use, which Tali thought odd since for all intents and purposes this looked like the ship's VI core. Something that important should be attended to at all times. She and Hein had picked their workstations, and were now hard at work coming up with a resilient Anti-Geth firewall to protect not only Jensen and his suit, but also any piece of networked hardware on the Durendal, including the ship's computers. Jensen, apparently, got top priority.

After a few rewrites, Hein updated Jensen's firewalls and simply said, "Go."

Tali's hand darted all over her haptic interface. She moved around shapes representing her macros, apps and viruses over a visual representation of Jensen's internal network. It had a fascinating (if confusing) file structure (at least judging by its visual representation), but she gained access to it and made a copy of the goal file in eight seconds without triggering a trace. That was about two more seconds longer than the last time.

Hein grumbled as he inspected her work, and made the necessary adjustments to Jensen's security on a plastic keyboard, a process that took around ten to fifteen minutes. "And to top it off, a twenty-eight key password. Go."

A music file. 12 seconds.

More corrections. "Go."

A video file. 18 seconds. Tali had to admit, this was getting a bit difficult.

"Go," he challenged her again. This time he had managed to find another potential exploit and it took her 30 seconds to get to the goal file.

"Go," he taunted. This time it had taken her 58 seconds to reach the goal. She was just about to grab it when a file folder caught her eye.

ALBUM, it was called.

Inside of it were pictures, snapshots taken across centuries, organized in file folders marked by year from 2027 to 2031, and from 2175 to 2183.

If someone had asked her what possessed her to make a copy of that folder in her Wrist Halo right then and there, she probably would have stammered in uncertainty, and probably would have muttered "curiosity?"

_"Colonel?"_ Aki's voice came up on the intercom. _"Jensen tells me that Tali triggered a trace. He says he didn't catch her, though."_

Tali cursed herself. She had lingered on that file folder for a bit too long.

"Ah ha!" Hein happily exclaimed. "Progress! Say, how is Jensen doing on the vaulting horses?"

_"Actually, we moved on to the Pommel Horse a while ago. He's...very flexible. And coordinated. The 108's almost perfectly in sync with his movements, now."_

"Excellent. Jensen? Think you can actively fight against Tali's hacking attempts from here on in?"

_"Sure." _he answered.

"While you're exercising."

_"...You must be joking."_

"Think of it as training your concentration and your multitasking abilities. You can bet the Geth will try to hack you even as they shoot you."

_"Point taken... Fine, I'll try. Jensen out."_

Hein clapped his hands once. "Fantastic! Ms Zorah, your challenge level just got higher. Think you can keep up with a wired cyborg with that fancy-shmancy haptic interface?"

"I stand a better chance than you do with that clacking plastic antique - er, sir."

"Heh."

Tali brought out her best scripts, and she managed to stay undetected two more times. On the third, Jensen was on to her, but she still succeeded in her goal. On the fourth, Jensen had managed to plug the many security holes that she exploited by himself, and she stepped up her game, seeding Trojans inside Jensen's systems, attacking from different routes in the ship's wireless system and even used a hundred instances of her Drone's VI as decoys. She kept succeeding for a while longer, but then something weird started happening.

Jensen was now finding her Trojans - even the dormant ones - and deleted them one by one, shutting down her avenues of access, all except one.

"This is it Ms. Zorah." said Hein. "There's no way you can get through now. I'm ready to bet that there's no way you can get the goal file this time. Think you're up for it?"

"You're on."

Tali started the hack again, and in the blink of an eye the trace found her, and all of the tools she had uploaded in the workstation shut down one by one. She had failed.

She rebooted the machine, and tried again, this time in full force with over two hundred dedicated processes ready to crack Jensen's defenses.

ACCESS DENIED.

The machine shut down completely. She rebooted, and tried again.

ACCESS DENIED

And again.

ACCESS DENIED

And Again...

STOP THAT

The machine shut down again, and try as she might Tali couldn't get it to start up. All she got was an unresponsive blue screen. She slumped against her chair, feeling defeated.

Hein patted her on the shoulder. "Don't feel too bad. The goal was always to figure out a defense against Quarian electronics. Consider the fact that it took both me and Jensen, in total, seventy eight tries to finally keep you at bay. A 78 - 5 win/loss record is not bad at all. In fact, you should feel very proud!"

Tali looked at Hein, and wondered if he was being sincere. As far as she could tell, he was, and it felt so odd... In the same situation Father would have been disappointed that Tali did not completely disabled Jensen and make herself the clear winner. He would not have yelled. Nor would he have struck her... He would have glared at her hard, boring shame into her skull with his eyes, and would have simply said: _"You WILL do better."_

To be congratulated for a defeat, that was... an alien experience.

"I'll do better next time." she said.

"Is that so? Well, you're most certainly welcome to try. But don't break your skull over it. Take the time to reflect on the experience. Who knows? When next you face the Geth, they'll find you to be a little bit more dangerous than before."

Tali saw wisdom in that, and took it to heart. "Hm...You sound like my mother."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

The door chimed, and Hein called out to the door in a sing-song voice."Who is iiiiiit?"

"It's Vakarian. Veetor said Tali was here?"

"That she is!" Hein stuffed his plastic keyboard in his coat, where it seemed to vanish. Tali wondered how big were his pockets, and just how much stuff he had in there. "Come on in! But don't touch anything! I'll know!"

Vakarian opened the door and came in, and Tali rose to greet him.

"I have some business to take care of in the CIC," said Hein as he crossed the door. "Feel free to take a break, Zorah. You've earned it."

"Hey there," greeted Garrus. "It's good to see you're doing okay."

"I can't quite believe the good fortune I've been having lately. I get rescued, patched up, someone comes along and gives me work and offers to rescue some of my fellow Pilgrims in danger... It's too good to be true, and I'm almost afraid that the universe is playing a cruel joke on me..."

"And you're worried about the punchline. Yeah, I know how you feel."

"You needed to see me for something?"

"Yeah." Garrus took a black and red Omni-Tool from his legpack. "I need your help cracking this Omni-Tool's security."

Tali took it in her hands. It was a modified Nexus X, or at least it looked like the one. The weight of it seemed wrong. "Of course. It's the least I owe you. Lost your password?"

"Actually, Jensen looted this off an Alliance Intel Agent he beat into a coma and he believes the data inside could be the key in uncovering a conspiracy responsible for the death of Commander Shepard. It's got some explosive charges, Black ICE, and the data inside of it is probably encrypted with a million-bit key."

Tali just glared at him. There it was. The punchline. It had to be.

"No pressure or anything." he quipped.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Hangar bay, Ryan was putting on his Kodiak Armor, a variant of the standard Mechanized Infantry Protection System (Or MIPS for short). This heavy variant weighed three times as much as the standard one due to the inch-thick plating of composite sandwich of carbon fiber, ceramic, and shock absorbing gel that, along with a enhanced shield system, turned him into a nearly invincible juggernaut. Despite the souped up mechanized joints and the extra strips of electroactive buckygel, the suit's considerable weight slowed him down quite a bit. The Kodiak's thickness made Ryan's tall broad frame that much more intimidating, and at one meter ninety-eight, and a hundred and twenty kilograms, he was plenty intimidating already.<p>

On the other end of spectrum, Jane was putting on her Corvo MK IV. That was actually an original EU Spec Ops light powered suit designed to increase a person's mobility by sixty percent. It was made of a fairly supple two millimeter black material, with hard plastic plates bolted onto the legs and forearms with gold studs (which were prominent on the codpiece and the around the knees). Claws were welded onto the feet, at the toes. Sand colored straps were wrapped around the thighs and chest, supporting the webbing... and making the suit that much more snug around her slightly amazonian contours. At one meter sixty-eight, she looked positively tiny compared to Ryan.

"I hate this fucking thing." said Jane as she put on the Revenant tactical mask. She wasn't comfortable with the Corvo's original intimidating helmet, since it covered her head completely, and its micro-laser projectors gave her a headache. "The EU and the Alliance forces may like to have their women strut around in full-body spandex but I certainly don't. The Corvo's... snug in all the wrong places. I'm surprised the thing doesn't squeak when I move."

"Hey now, you don't need to be ashamed: you look damn good in that black spandex." Ryan tried to joke, but Jane had body issues ever since she saw what those Red Tribals did to Gainsborough back on Mars. They had singled her out as a 'prize', and while she had survived the ordeal she would never, ever be the same. And then there was Lockheart... Needless to say, Mars had left Jane with an extremely cynical view of women in the military, and she hated wearing armor that declared her sex to the enemy.

Or her friends.

"Yeah, you flattering my body means exactly jack shit, you big faggot."

"Hey, don't you watch the vids? Us fags know fabulous when we see it." Ryan put on a slight lisp, or at least tried to. "And huh... girl you look fabulous!"

"That was the worst impression of a camp gay I've ever seen."

"I know. I'm the shame of my kind."

"Hmph. Yeah... aren't we both?" she said, mournfully.

Ryan decided to change the subject. "You remember what we're supposed to do?"

"Yeah, yeah. You start by smacking Jensen around to see if the 108's Smart Skin can protect him from blunt force trauma. If he manages to beat you without pulping you, I'm supposed to get him to cover his weak spots against a heat knife."

Grey and Neil walked up to their lockers, and proceeded to put on their suits. Neil just used the standard MIPS, while Grey used the Wolflord variant. This one was originally geared for Zero-G combat thanks to its thrusters, but it was found to be effective in countering a biotic's levitation attack.

"...don't know what these two are supposed to do." said Jane, confused.

"Actually, we don't know either." said Neil. The boss told us to suit up ASAP. I guess he wants me to teach Jensen how to dodge my bullets or something? Don't know what use I'll be in a hand-to-hand exercise. By the way, love the new suit. One of Hein's finest investments, if you ask me."

"Fuck you. And fuck him, too. I can fight just as well in an MIPS."

"Nobody's doubting that." said Grey. "But Hein likes new toys."

"So let him put this thing on, then!"

"Urgh!" Neil's face pursed as if he had just swallowed a spoonful of bile. "Don't say stuff like that, he just might come on down and do it for giggles!"

"_Anyway,_ why do you think he's having us all suit up, sir?" asked Ryan.

"Tali'Zorah just shaved off maybe twelve hours off her trip-"

"God bless that little miracle worker and her helpers." Neil beamed as he put in his chest piece.

"-Don't interrupt. I'm guessing that Hein's timetable got thrown off and he wants us to hit Jensen with everything we've got, all at once. But that's just a guess."

Neil scratched his nose. "Trying to guess what Hein is planning is kinda like predicting lottery results. You got one in a billion chance to get it right."

"There's Jensen." said Ryan, nodding at the opening elevator door.

"With the Doc and Vakarian in tow." commented Neil. "I don't see Hein, though. Figured he'd want front row seats to see his new toy in action right away."

Grey rose an eyebrow. Hein would indeed have been here first. "Have you seen him?"

"Just saw him in the CIC earlier, talking to someone over the comm station after he personally ordered me to suit up."

"Well, since he isn't here and he didn't give neither Neil nor I any details... Jane, Ryan, go with the original menu. Try and give Jensen a workout, will you?

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Honestly, I think we can skip this particular bit of training." said Aki, worried. "The 108 is pretty much a second skin to you now."<p>

"And yet you're still worried that I'll hurt someone." said Adam. He looked down at his feet, and saw that someone had set up several fighting mats on the cargo bay's floor. He briefly wondered why they couldn't do this in the gym, and it occurred to him that maybe a small gym wouldn't be big enough for two men in power suits.

"Aren't you?"

"... All the time. Look, if it'll make you feel better I can set the suit's output to zero point zero one."

"I'd rather we didn't do this at all... You're still pretty strong even without the suit."

Garrus tapped Aki on the shoulder, getting her attention. "Jensen and I spar often and the worst I ever got were a couple of bruises. Whitaker will be fine. Not so sure about this Proudfoot, though. Doesn't quite have as much meat on her."

The Deep Eyes approached the trio, wearing full gunmetal medium and heavy armor... except Proudfoot, who was wearing something light, form fitting and dark.

"Or as much armor, apparently." he quipped.

"Thought this was going to involve just Jane and Ryan?" Aki asked Grey.

"There's been a change of plans." he answered.

Garrus subconsciously put his hand close to his holstered Mongoose, and Jensen tensed, resisting the urge to drop in a fighting stance. Whenever the two of them heard "there's been a change of plans", they knew things were about to go way south. Grey picked up on that immediately.

"Nervous?"

"We're not fans of surprises." said Adam.

Hein's voice boomed over the intercom. "Then you came on the wrong ship, mister Jensen! It's just full of surprises! Ah, I see that everyone is fully kitted - though not quite fully armed, but that's fine." he cleared his throat. "Now, I know we had a set schedule of matches, or at least I did. Why, even Dr. Ross would have gotten a chance to practice her Aikido today! But then I had a VISION. Jensen quietly took down each and every one of you once at a time with a minimum of broken bones and you'd all shake hands and congratulate each other on a good match and it was sooo... BORING. I've had... a change of heart. I thought about having you all duke it out at once with deadly force, but why should WE have all the fun?! That's why, in sixty minutes..."

Everyone felt the ship lurch: the Durendal had just dropped out of FTL. The hum of the engines died, and the retro thrusters rumbled the ship as they fired.

"The pirate transport that's been hiding in the Durendal's heat wake will be catching up to us. I've just transmitted our (false) intent to surrender and they'll be coming through the ship's main cargo door..."

An air sealing force field appeared at the front of the Cargo bay, and the main doors opened. A Trans-U converted Cargo transport, bearing the markings of Batarian slavers, could be seen in the distance, slowly approaching the Durendal. It was big enough to fit hundreds of pirates. Everyone stared at each other in horror.

"Have fun, everyone!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>NEXT TIME, ON MASS EFFECT: HUMAN REVOLUTION:<p>

_"Uh, sir?" said Joker over the intercom, "We've got a distress signal. It's... Batarian."_

_..._

_"What in the hell happened here?" said Vega as he scanned the ship's main hall for anything hostile. All he saw were corpses perforated with crossbow bolts._

_..._

_"Eyes of Blue... Eyes of blue... Eyes of Blue..." the Batarian rocked himself back and forth._

_..._

_"YOU PUT US ALL IN DANGER, AND FOR WHAT?!"_

_..._

_"Who did this?" asked Anderson. "Tell me."_

_"The Shadow of Elysium," whispered the slaver, crying. "He found me..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: CHEMICAL WARFARE: TURIAN: BELLUM<strong>_

_The 23-G Bellum Compound is a chemical weapon, an odorless black gas capable of turning sapients into crazed, cannibalistic animals. Developed by the Turian Frumentarius during the Krogan Rebellion, a project parallel to the Salarian Special Tasks Group's Genophage, the theory and strategy behind Bellum was that, once deployed against a Rebel army, the Krogan warriors would then proceed to turn on each other. Unfortunately, the Turians underestimated the Krogan's ability to control their bloodlust and their innate resistance to chemical agents._

_When other levo-based sentient lifeforms are exposed to Bellum gas, however, the results are horrific. The sentient loses all sense of self restraint and becomes infused with extreme xenophobic rage and constant, unsatisfied hunger and carnal urges. A human affected by Bellum only has days to live, as the surging adrenaline and the diet of infected human meat and offal lined with fecal matter slowly ravages his or her health._

_Deeming the weapon useless and too horrific to use, the Frumentarius canceled the project. Samples of the gas nevertheless made their way to the hands of the Krogan Warlord Haakan, who found the compound a useful combat stim for his troops. Centuries later, Elanos Haliat, an ex-Frumentarius turned pirate, found one of Haakan's supply caches, and deployed the Bellum canisters he found there on several planets during the Skyllian Blitz. While most of the damage on other planets was contained, over six million people died on Elysium in the initial chaos._

_It is interesting to note that an average of one in every three hundred humans on Elysium proved immune to the gas' effects even when exposed to it for extended periods of time. There are reports of some humans becoming completely apathetic, but these are anecdotal at best._

_A cure is being worked on by several companies, such as the Sirta Foundation and Redwater Medical, but so far no progress has been made._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Alright, the action on Caleston should begin next chapter.<strong>_

_**Apologies to psychiatry majors, I'm just going by what Wikipedia tells me. If Aki's off the mark, let me know.**_

_**Also some apologies to programmers for the Hollywood Hacking. I tried being as vague as possible to avoid it, but let me know if I wrote anything blatantly wrong.**_

_**With Tali, I'm subverting the whole rescue romance thing (although I'll probably be playing it straight with Manah). I'm also using the subversion to showcase some institutionalized xenophobia in Quarian culture. Because what is sending out idealistic teenagers alone in a cruel galaxy supposed to accomplish, really? There are better ways of acquiring resources.**_

_**Before you ask, Jensen didn't actually let Garrus make copies of those pictures. Garrus actually took snapshots with his visor, cropped them, and didn't tell Jensen.**_

_**The Tvtropes page now has a character section! Feel free to contribute, and Special Thanks to Kalaong for starting it. Extra thanks to Setokaiva for the spellchecking.  
><strong>_


	23. 20 The Masque of the Black Queen part 1

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**_

_**Chapter 20: The Masque of the Black Queen Part I**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

_**Drebin is voiced by Khary Payton.**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>And there came one of the seven angels which had the seven vials, and talked with me, saying unto me, Come hither; I will shew unto thee the judgment of the great whore that sitteth upon many waters: With whom the kings of the earth have committed idolatry, and the inhabitants of the earth have been made drunk with the wine of her idolatry.<p>

_**Revelations 17:1-2**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>Days ago...<em>**

The corporate world of Caleston. Capital: Syneu.

A million and half souls made their homes here, supported by a local economy dedicated to the mining and refining of precious metals, the most lucrative of which was, naturally, Element Zero. Twenty years ago its colony was on the rise, quickly on its way to become an economic nexus that would rival Illium and Noveria. Syneu, the main colony hub, was a beacon of culture and commerce, spires of glass and metal sprang up at its center, becoming symbols of civilization proudly erect on a wild, untamed frontier.

But in the end, the surface of Caleston was a hostile, barren, and ultimately unwelcoming place: The ground was wracked with volcanism, veining the ground with lava. It's breathable atmosphere constantly supported by huge machines that spewed gases into the air. Nothing grew there save inedible and toxic thermosynthetic fungi... Syneu's growth, and the growth of its orbiting settlements, had stalled quickly after a decade.

RedWater, the mining company that managed the colonization efforts of Caleston and reaped the benefits of its mining industry, attempted a costly terraforming project to serve as a publicity stunt. Caleston, as if alive, had other ideas, and resisted any attempt to make it more hospitable. Weather stations were devoured by lava flows, volcanic vents spewed toxic spores, mingling with the terraforming gasses. RedWater only threw more and more money at the problem, but eventually gave up and scrapped the operations quickly in an attempt to cut their losses.

For the people on Caleston, the consequences were dire: Unemployment rose up so sharply RedWater's social services became overwhelmed lowering the quality of life for all colonists. and a shantytown filled with the poor grew out of Syneu like a cancerous tumor. A culture of poverty took root in it and the poorer area of the city, the youths living there learning quickly to despise those fortunate enough to live in the rich Downtown area, coveting their wealth. The richer residents, fearing for their safety, segregated themselves away in secure residential complexes, guarded by heavily armed Private Security Contractors.

As for the miners, the lifeblood of Syneu's economy? At first, they were overworked and underpaid to the point where they were little better off than slaves. Then, as RedWater started fielding Quarian strip-mining technology, they found themselves slowly becoming redundant. Their expertise in digging through Caleston's soil and rock proved invaluable for RedWater's latest project, but it wouldn't be long before they would need to move into shacks made out of scrap metal and plastic.

From the bridge of the Waking Dreamer, Benezia's personal ship, The Matriarch processed all of this, and concluded that while it wasn't quite the end for Caleston, she could see it from here.

All it needed as a little push, and it would descend into hell...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>SSV Normandy- Cargo Bay -October 6th 2183 - 1600 hours, ship time<strong>_

After fine tuning his T5-A Destroyer Powered Battlesuit, Anderson now had little to do but admire his handiwork. While the rest of the N7s had moved on with the T5-V, with its smaller shoulder mounted missile launcher and fancier electronics, Anderson thought the T5-A would always win out in terms of reliability and heat management. It was intimidating and slow, but Anderson liked it that way: he was getting on in years, and was no longer as spry as he used to be 20 years ago. The Gene-Mods kept him fit, but they didn't make him young. Still, his eyes and his aim were as good as ever, and the Mako Ballistics B75 Executioner LMG (another so-called antique) would make quick work of any Geth.

He checked his watch. Still had six hours to kill before lights out. He had gone over the suit and the gun three times already. Until the Normandy arrived at Caleston (or if the ship came under attack), his job was basically to make sure everything ran smoothly. Thing is, the Normandy's crew had been handpicked by both him and Hackett from the best of the best, and they didn't really need him to look over their shoulders.

Speaking of handpicking, Sergeant James Jimenez Vega and First Lieutenant Jacob T. Taylor, the two replacements Hackett had assigned to the Normandy, were standing over Shepard's coffin along with Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. The coffin was still humming, its stasis field preserving her body. Anderson had planned a burial at sea with a 21 gun salute, but then Jondum Bau had come along and commandeered the Normandy. He thought about having the body shipped to Arcturus when they had stopped at Ella Base to pick up the new Marines, but... that would have meant letting go.

And letting go was the hardest thing for Anderson to do.

"So...there she is." Anderson overheard Vega. "I mean... I always dreamed of meeting her in person and now... damn, I don't know how to feel about this, sir."

"She will be missed." said Jacob, sadly. He turned to Williams. "Did you know her long?"

"No..." she replied sadly. "We met on Eden Prime during the Geth attack. Between that and the business on the Citadel, we didn't get a chance to sit down and talk. She was as good as they said, though. I looked forward to being part of her squad."

"How did she die?"

"Someone stuck a knife in her heart while she slept. As for who did it, C-Sec can't seem to figure it out. Dumb assholes."

"I heard it was some kind of Geth Infiltrator that did it." said Vega. "But that's the scuttlebutt for ya."

_That's fairly close to the mark_, Anderson thought. Too bad Jondum Bau had sworn him to secrecy. He may not be able to set the record straight, but he could stop the rumor mill from turning for a bit. He cleared his throat behind the trio, and they snapped to attention, then saluted.

"Don't you Leathernecks have anything better to do than gossip around a coffin?"

"No, sir!" Jacob answered quickly. "We just finished our orientation and our training routine and we decided to give our respect to the honored dead, sir!"

"Hmph. At ease." Anderson inspected the newcomers. Vega was a tall, very muscular young man with an exotic look about him. He had a horizontal stripe tattooed over his face, drawn with some sort of Incan or Mayan motif. His hair was short, but wild, set off by two silver earrings that matched his eyes. Probably a South American Native, Anderson assumed. His file had simply said 'Latin' under 'ethnicity'. According to it, Vega was a close and medium range Soldier, favoring heavy weaponry and armor.

Jacob Taylor, on the other hand, was a bit shorter and smaller than Vega, but was still nevertheless quite fit and muscular. The dark skin of his bald head gleamed a bit under the Cargo Bay's light, as the only pieces of hair on his head were his eyebrows and his goatee. A studded, curved scar that extended from his left eyebrow to the back of his head marked him as a Biotic L3b refit. According to his file, Taylor was actually meant to be stationed on Eden Prime, but he was recalled months ago at 511 for his implant refit and the necessary healing coma. He had woken up just yesterday, when they gave him his new assignment. As a Vanguard, he was a straight-up Close Quarters combatant.

"I suppose you still have some questions about your assignment here?"

"As a matter of fact, sir, I'm a little confused why I'm here. When I went under I expected to be assigned to a company of marines as an XO..."

"Ditto," interrupted Vega. "Although I thought I'd be assigned a squad when they put that extra chevron on me."

"Instead we're both supposed to be part of a Spectre's squad? And you'll be in it? Sorry if I'm overstepping my bounds, sir, but it's a little unusual. What's going on?"

"I have to admit, I'm a little curious too, sir." added Williams.

Anderson proceeded to explain that Jondum Bau needed the best soldiers available for an extraction mission, part of a campaign to thwart Saren as much as possible while the Council chose the first human Spectre. He then went on to explain that Vega, Williams and Taylor would have been shoe-ins for the N7 programs, according to their performance evaluations.

"And you two were the closest to Ella base." finished Anderson. Williams and Vega beamed a bit at their training and efforts being vindicated. Taylor, however, was still all business.

"And the Krogan merc? How does he fit in?" Jacob pointed at Urdnot Wrex, the mercenary clad in blood red armor that Jondum Bau had hired. He was leaning back against a large crate, doing his best to ignore Jenkins. Apparently, Saren and Urdnot had crossed paths before.

Vega nodded in approval. "Hey, if things go south, we'll have a Krogan on our side to soak in the bullets. Smart."

"Our side? Or the Salarian's?" asked Williams cynically.

"I don't see a reason why he'd screw us over. Then again Salarians _are_ pretty tricky..."

Wrex started grumbling, and while Anderson thought it might be good to talk with his new Marines some more, he really should make sure Jenkins didn't get himself in trouble.

"I should go," said Anderson. "But I want you three to hit the VR sims some more. I want your skills as sharp as possible when we get to Caleston tomorrow morning. Dismissed."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"There's no story, kid. Go watch some vids if you want stories."<p>

"C'mon, you Krocs live for what? Two thousand years? You must have seen some cool stuff!"

"Kroc? Seriously? You humans can't be bothered to pronounce two syllables so you have to cut a word down? Go away."

"I think you should listen to him, son." Anderson patted Jenkins on the shoulder. "I think Williams left a few guns uncleaned. Why don't you go over them and familiarize with some of the new gear the Spectre brought in while you're at it?"

"No need, Williams went over them at least-"

"_Go_, Jenkins. That's an order."

"...Yes sir," Jenkins made himself scarce, much to Wrex's relief. He took a swig out of his canteen of Ryncol to calm himself down. That boy had really, really harmed his calm.

"I have a few questions." asked Anderson.

"Aw, dammit! Let me guess: 'Tell me more about the Krogan', right? I'll never understand why you humans can't just log on the 'net and do a Codex search. But fine, here's the abridged version: We saved the galaxy, then the Turians came along and cut off our balls. The end. If you want more details, go ask the _Salarian_."

"I already read the codex entry on Krogans, Urdnot."

"...Oh."

"I was actually wondering how you got roped into working with a Salarian. After all, they're the ones who provided the Turians with the scalpel."

"Heh. Well aren't you funny? Jondum Bau bailed me out of jail and lined my pockets with platinum to keep his stupid ass in one piece. And yeah, I got a good reason to hate Salarians. But I'm a professional, and I'm no too proud to accept their coin, especially if they're headed into a fight."

"And you accept Turian coin, as well, from what I've heard."

"Yeah, sometimes... You're leading this conversation somewhere, aren't you?"

"Bau said you worked for Saren Arterius. I bet there's a story there."

"Not much of a story."

"I think I'd like to hear it, just the same."

Wrex mentally took Anderson's measure, and found that, compared to that whelp Jenkins, the human captain seemed more deserving of respect.

"I'll make you a deal," said Wrex. "I tell it to you, but you'll have to tell me one in return sometime. Does that sounds fair?"

"Deal. Let's have it, then."

"...Fine. This was a few years back, out in the edges of the Terminus Systems. Saren had hired a bunch of mercs, roped them in with the promise of good pay and a cut of the loot. And there would be plenty, of it, too. The Caravel was famous for being constantly stocked full of good cargo."

"The Caravel?"

"A Volus super-freighter, size of a Dreadnought. Very big. Heh, a little _too_ big. The mercs needed some extra help, and they called on me. I met with Saren to make a deal, and I could tell he was rotten, to the core. Still, I needed the cash and he paid half upfront, so I accepted the job. He turned out to be pretty hands off about it, too. Just told us to board the ship and kill all the security staff onboard. That was it. One catch, though. We had to leave the Caravel's central vault alone. We could take everything else that wasn't bolted down on the ship, but the vault was off limits."

"I take it you got greedy?"

"My co-workers did. _I_ honor my deals, but they weren't so scrupulous. They cracked that vault open and helped themselves... but still, I got curious, so I took a peek inside while they stuffed their sacks."

"What was in it?"

"...Jewels and platinum, and lots of it. Enough for a man to buy his own moon... but that's not what got my attention. There was a pedestal in the center, and set upon it was a... a dark blue steel mask. It's eye holes were black, but it was as though the thing was staring right through me just as I stared into it. Meanwhile, my fellow mercs? They were going out of their minds with greed, taking off their clothes to bathe in the jewels, laughing mad even as the sharp bits started cutting into their skin. Something was seriously wrong there, and I bailed. Didn't even wait to get paid. Turned out to be the right call: I haven't heard from anyone else on that job ever since."

"...A mask? What did it look like?"

"An Asari's head, minus the jaw but with two dark reddish purple flat spiral seashells set on the ears. Its crest's tentacles were splayed out, and they kinda looked like pointy crab spider legs. Gave me the creeps."

"Well, that was quite-"

The Normandy lurched, the intercom chimed in, and Joker's voice spoke: _"Uh, sir? We got a problem."_

"What is it, Joker?"

_"We're getting a wide band distress signal. It's... Batarian."_

_"Slavers. We should ignore it, it's probably a trap." _said Bau over the intercom.

"We don't have time for this," agreed Anderson. "Send a report to command and get the Normandy back to full speed."

_"Well, we... can't." _answered Joker. _"They boosted their ansible's signal somehow, and it's buzzing our nav systems. The built in failsafes in our Nav computer won't let us go back to FTL until we recalibrate, but the damn signal is constantly throwing the navcom off. We'll have recalibrate once every 2 minutes."_

"...So we're stuck unless we switch off that ansible. Can we override the failsafes?"_  
><em>

__"We could, but that would take 20 hours and earn us all jailtime. It's quicker and safer to_ just go around it, but the interference bubble is pretty big. Couple of parsecs big. Either way, we're going to lose time."_

"Hmph, and it's in the middle of a fairly well-traveled FTL route. Alright, let's deal with this. Joker, set a course for the ship, as fast as sub-light can take us. Anderson out." He then turned to the marines in the cargo bay. "WILLIAMS, TAYLOR, VEGA, JENKINS! I WANT YOU ALL SUITED UP AND KITTED OUT YESTERDAY! WE'VE GOT A SITUATION!"

Anderson moved towards his Battle-Suit, intent on putting it on, but stopped and turned back to Wrex. "Care to join us?" he asked.

"Sure, why not?" said the mercenary. Anderson continued with his outfitting, and Wrex's phone vibrated in his legpack. He turned it on, and checked his messages.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>SSV Normandy- Forward Bridge - 2000 hours.<strong>_

It took four hours going back and forth between sublight and FTL, but Joker had finally managed to get the Normandy to the wreck. He ordered Serviceman Draven to do a full scan and send the data to his console and notified Anderson. He waited as the scan finished, hailing the derelict repeatedly and getting no reply. He felt thudding footsteps approach from behind him. He looked over his shoulder, expecting the disapproving glare of the captain, only to see the intimidating figure of a black T5 battlesuit with a red stripe on its right arm.

"Gah!"

**"At ease, Flight Lieutenant."** Anderson's voice rumbled through the suit's helmet. Joker tried to relax, but the way those two glowing red sensors seemed to stare into his soul, laying bare every little misdemeanor and every little breach of protocol... well, he would not be at ease for a while, that was for sure.

**"Report."**

"Uh, right. Well, what we've got here is an old Trans-U passenger vessel re-purposed into a pirate slave barge. About twice as spacious as the Normandy, but at half the length. It's completely crippled: There's laser marks on the engines, the retro thrusters and the guns. Main power is down, so the signal is probably running on an emergency battery. No response to hails, and... well, this is weirdest part..."

**"What is it?"**

"The Eezo core is gone. Draven, you got any lifesigns?"

"I think so," Draven answered. "But interference from the ansible means I can't quite lock on to it. We might have a survivor."

**"If that's the case then blowing up the ship is out of the question."**

"You want me to dock with the thing?"

**"I'm not entirely certain this isn't a trap. Better keep the Normandy's main gun aimed at it if it is. Bridge to Taylor."**

_"Sir?"_

_**"We're going on a spacewalk to secure the batarian ship. Make sure everyone's ready."**_

_"Sir, the Salarian says he wants to tag along."_

**"Why?"**

_"Says he wants to see how someone managed to turn a cheap Batarian ansible into an interdiction field emitter."_

**"He's a Spectre. Let him do as he likes."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The five marines, along with a Spectre and a mercenary, slowly floated out of the Normandy's cargo bay and into the slave barge's.<p>

"I recognize those markings." said Wrex over the radio. "This is Bassac's barge."

"I know the name." replied Anderson. "Bassac and his little band escaped Elysium with a hold full of loot and slaves. He flew a cutter back then..."

"Well, looks like whoever did this made him pay for it. Look."

Wrex shone a light on the barge's main cargo doors. They were wide open, the sealant clamps floating uselessly around it in the void. Dozens of alien bodies floated in the dark interior of the derelict, having been torn up by machine gun fire.

...

_"DIE, ALIEN SCUM!" shouted Neil through the Copperhead's loudspeakers. _

_He may not have been able to sortie the gunship, but its Vulcan 2mm gun turret could take on all boarders. Sadly, there were a lot of boarders: they looked like bald humans, but with disgusting folds of flesh over their faces, red eyes, and lipless mouths filled with thin, razor sharp teeth. They rushed the Durendal's bay, not caring about their fallen. Neil stopped being too concerned about the swarm when a converted Tendus Wanzer carrying a big piece of concrete for a shield started stomping its way towards him, flanked by two angry looking Krocs._

_And Neil didn't have any rockets loaded. _

_"Aw, crap. We got heavies incoming!"_

_..._

"What the hell are those?" asked Jenkins.

"Urgh, _Vorcha._" answered Wrex in disgust. "Merc bands in the Terminus use them as cannon fodder. They breed like vermin, and they can regenerate as fast as I can. Be careful: If there's air, and a Vorcha's heart and brains are still intact, then it's probably not dead and waiting for you to drop your guard and try and eat you."

Anderson was starting to appreciate having Wrex around. Between the seven of them he was the only one with any experience with the dangers of the Traverse and the Terminus.

The seven spacewalkers slowly landed on the Barge's floor, and switched on their boots' grav clamps. Well, Jenkins tried to, anyways. He wound up firing his thrusters for a bit too long and found himself hitting a dead Krogan berserker.

"Oof!"

"Nice landing there, Jenkins." quipped Vega. He took a long look at the Krogan body... Someone had taken a battering ram to its skull. "Holy... Look at that, the helmet's caved in!"

...

_Skhug charged the one in the black armor, his shotgun firing wide to declare his attention. It overheated, and he threw it away, intent on headbutting the puny human._

_The puny human charged right back, and punched Skhug in the skull before he could cross into the human ship. His helmet caved in, and he was sent flying right into the Wanzer's shield._

_..._

"There's another one over there!" Taylor reported. "Mostly intact... save for a hole in his back..."

...

_Zhug charged the tiny human woman engaged with a batarian with a shock-pike. He wasn't like Skhug: he charged the proper way, with a battle axe. The batarian attempted to stab her with the sparky bit, but she deflected it with a knife and then buried a hatchet into his face._

_Zhug raised his axe, and the woman threw the spasming dead Batarian at Zhug's feet, causing him to stumble and fall. He felt the tingle of the shock-pike pierce his hump, then his skull, and then he felt nothing at all._

_..._

"What the hell is that?" asked Wrex as he shone a light on a wrecked Wanzer. It was fairly squat, about four meters tall. Extra armor plates had been bolted onto its frame, including the cockpit. A piece of concrete lay by its side, and its right arm had a pair of flamethrowers fitted onto it. Someone had destroyed the torso with a thermal charge, or something similar. The Wanzer's right arm, which had been fitted with a pair of heavy flamers, had been neatly sliced off at the elbow. Globes of fuel floated around it.

...

_Jensen had, to Grey's own astonishment, neatly sliced off the small Wanzer's arm with the Fandango. Not to be outdone, Grey climbed on the Tendus' back, stood on top of it, and emptied his Serpent's power cell straight into the armored cockpit at point blank range. Its cheap, makeshift plating proved completely ineffectual at stopping the stream of charged particles. The batarian pilot barely had time to scream before he was vaporized._

_..._

"That's a Tendus Wanzer." answered Vega. "Piece of crap compared to... well, anything else, really. You see a lot of those in arena matches or construction yards. My uncle and I serviced a lot of those back in the day. Still, it can be dangerous with the right mods, especially against infantry."

Jenkins chuckled at Wrex. "What? You never seen a Wanzer before?"

"Seen heavy mechs before..." Wrex shrugged. "Just not quite that big, I mean, what's the point of all that machinery? Give me a tank over a robot any day."

"Amen." agreed Williams.

"Sir," said Jacob. "This was a bloodbath! More than fifty Vorcha dead, twenty batarians, two Krogan, and a _Wanzer?_ Who did this? Who_ could _have done this? Spectres?"

"Possible." answered Bau. "Bassac's ties to the Batarian Theocracies and his raiding of various colonies across the traverse got our attention. Could be that some of our younger and more zealous members decided to do something about him. But that doesn't matter. Urdnot and I will see to disabling the distress signal. Anderson, feel free to split the assignments as you see fit."

Anderson conjured up a hologram from his Omni-Tool, a deck plan for the basic Trans-U. Unless Bassac had given his ship a complete overhaul, it would prove to be an adequate guide to the slave barge's interior.

"Vega, go with Bau and Urdnot. Taylor and Jenkins, go to the engine room and restore enough of the main power for the ship's gravity plating. Williams and I will head for the Bridge. Once the signal stops interfering with the Normandy's scanners, we should have a better idea as to where that life sign is coming from and we'll be able to secure the ship before tagging it for retrieval. Let's get to it, people, and keep an open channel at all times."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What in the hell happened here?" asked Vega as he scanned the barge's third's deck's main hall for anything hostile with his flashlight. All he saw were batarian corpses perforated with crossbow bolts. A <em>lot<em> of crossbow bolts for a lot of bodies. "It's as if someone went nuts with a fully-automatic crossbow..."

"That's ridiculous." dismissed Bau. "What would be the point of making such a weapon? An assault rifle is more efficient. Clearly this was the work of a maniac that dessecrated these corpses with bolts once the fighting was over."

_..._

_"MUHUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ! HAAAAAAAAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_

_Vodarek saw the maniac in the long black coat cut down his compatriots with high-tech fully automatic... crossbow, of all things! He had an insane gleam in his stone grey eyes, and he took great delight in the deaths of Vodarek's comrades. Their shields were useless against the bolts for some reason, and before long half of them had fallen to a rain of sharpened fiberglass._

_"Gentlemen! Say hello to my little friend! Her name is Maria! Why Maria? BECAUSE BIANCA WAS TAKEN, OF COURSE! HAHAHAHAHAHAH!"_

_More men died as the maniac turned them into pincushions, and Vodarek hid in an airvent, and prayed to the gods. That he would not be found._

_..._

Wrex pulled out one of the bolts and inspected the tip. He crushed the bolt's head between his fingers, and a glowing powder came out of it.

"Snowblind," said Vega. "It's still got a charge."

Wrex snorted. "Smart. The snow throws off the kinetic shield's velocity sensors, and the shield fails to trigger."

"...Interesting." said Bau. "I never thought Snowblind particles could be used in such a manner... Let's move on, the comms room should be right this way."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In engineering, Jacob plugged in a fuel cell in a socket and threw the switch.<p>

"Alright, we should be getting main power in ten seconds," said Jacob aloud in his helmet's mic. "Make sure your boots are on the ground, and that there's nothing above your head, everyone."

_"The distress signal has been disabled." _reported Bau. _"My apologies it took so long. Whoever did this put a LAM on the main power cell."_

_"Anderson to Joker, are you reading this? Get Draven to do another scan."_

_"Joker to away team. Right on it."_

"You guys should see this." said Jenkins. "I've got a Batarian here with his neck stomped flat and four crew men with holes in their heads."

_..._

_As the four engineers fired their SMGs uselessly at him, Ryan put his boot down on the neck of the Batarian he had just clotheslined. Fool tried to nail his Omni-Shield with an arc welder. Behind him, Garrus pulled off two clean headshots on the techs on the left, and Neil pulled a Mozambique drill on the ones to the right with his DMR._

_"Show-off." said Garrus._

_"Yeah, look who's talkin'." Neil fired back amicably._

_"Captain, reported Ryan, "Engineering is secure with minimum damage, as ordered. What do you want us to do?"_

_"Cut the gravity to the Slave pens!" replied Grey over the wireless. "Jane and I are pinned down! Jensen! Are you at the bridge yet?!"_

_"I am. Bassac's dead." replied Jensen over his suit radio._

_"You were supposed to force a surrender!"_

_"I tried. Shit happens. I'm sorry."_

_Garrus and Ryan altered the main power settings and cut off the power to the slave pen._

_"Get ready, gravity and lights will be gone in your area in 3, 2, 1..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The lights on the bridge came back on, bodies and various junk slammed on the floor, and the computers came back online. <em>"And lights on, everyone."<em>

"Thank you, Lieutenant." said Anderson. He looked around the fairly large command center, scanning for threats. He found nothing but corpses, and one of them was a large, nearly naked batarian. There was a tattoo on his chin, a thin hole in his throat, and Anderson recognized the man from his wanted poster.

"Bassac, I presume?" said Williams. Anderson nodded silently. "Thought he'd have better kit for a pirate."

"I'm guessing whoever did this looted all the good stuff, and stripped Bassac bare."

_"It's what I would do." _said Wrex over the wireless. _"Nothing like killing your enemies and taking their stuff. Makes the effort you put into wasting them sooo very worth it, heheh."_

Anderson decided to check the computers, and try and piece together what had happened here. He found Bassac's audio logs, and played the more recent ones.

_**"Bassac's log, date...whatever, it's on the filename. Anyways, It's been a slow week since we sold those Omar to some Templars, although they claim it's technically a bounty, let's be honest here: Omar make better slaves than Quarians. They're just as technically adept and less of a pain in the ass to maintain. Just get them a dose of that neuropozyne and some sugar and they're good. It's a shame there's so damned few of them. I managed to hide Drebin in the uh...hiding spot. That boy's just too damned useful to simply sell. As long as he can keep using those magic hands to bypass the FRM chips on those guns we salvage, then I don't sell his ass."**_

_**"It's almost time for the Kulna Festival. The Priests are practically drowning slavers in platinum in exchange for some quality wares. I'm planning a raid on Horizon... It's an independent colony, but I've heard Kerberos Tactical Solutions has got a base there. On the other hand Balak's got a big hit planned later, says he needs my cannon fodder or the job is a bust. I guess I can get the Vorcha to breed some more. It's not like I'm lacking in room in the pens."**_

_**"Got a tip about a fat chicken on its way to Caleston. Guess what? Paydirt! It's a Terran military vessel. It's kinda slow, and its heat wake is huge, but that makes it all that much easier to stalk it... A light cruiser. Hm... even if it's not packed with meat I can still sell it whole or in parts for a few billion credits. Or... I could keep it? Commodore Bassac, now that's got a nice ring to it. I could really bring in the flesh at the festival with a ship that big."**_

_**"Rum luck, the chicken's got engine trouble. The captain's put out a distress call and we answered it. Apparently they need a compression coil and the captain's agreed to dock with us. Vodarek - that useless little runt - thinks it's a trap. Well, trap or no, I've got my boys ready to take the ship: there's like 12 lifesigns, plus a weird one. I've got more than a hundred men itching for a fight. The victor is certain."**_

The next (and last) log was fraught with static, noises of alarms and screaming bridge crewmen. Someone reported incoming drones, another reported the guns were destroyed, and the engines were soon to be next.

_**"It's him. I recognize his eyes. He's right outside, wearing new armor and wielding a blade that sings and turns anything it touches into water. It's been seven years since Elysium. I could have sworn he was engulfed in that firestorm those Alliance bombers rained down after I bailed. But no... He's here. He has crossed the void to find me."**_

_***Slicing noise***_

_***door opens***_

_**"...ender... half of... dead... mercy." **_

"Who is that?" asked Williams.

"There's too much static to tell." responded Anderson.

_**"hah...ha...ERCY?!... MY SONS...URDERER"**_

_**"...no...oice..."**_

_**"...GEANCE..DIE!"**_

_**"...wish."**_

There was the sound of gunfire, and the recording ended.

_"Well, that sounded kind of ominous." _said Wrex.

_"Sir? Draven here. We've got a more accurate read on that lifesign. It's in the passenger cabins."_

"Anderson to everyone on the barge, we're headed to the cabins. Williams, make a copy of this. I'm sure Alliance HQ will be interested in this."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hm... air pressure's okay, here. Feel free to switch to your filters." declared Taylor.<p>

"This place looks more like a Pod Hotel than a passenger dorm." commented Vega. "And - oh Madre de Dios what the hell is in that bucket?!"

The pods had been completely deprived of the little creature comforts that made a place like this liveable, and there were buckets covered in dried waste of various colors. The walls were filthy, the corners caked with urine.

"Oh, jeez. I am never complaining about any bunk, ever." said Williams. Those are luxurious compared to this place."

"What are those?" asked Jenkins. "besides the... shackles, I guess?"

"IV tubes." answered Wrex. "Keeps the slaves docile and semi-healthy. Or sometimes just docile. See how there's just one drip per pod? There's room for two people, if you catch my drift..."

"Oh. Oh god." muttered Williams as she caught Wrex's meaning, while Jenkins simply gulped.

"How many people can you even put in a Trans-U?"

"I'd say 500, give or take sixty, if you pack them in tight enough and don't care about their private space too much." answered Wrex. "I'd say Bassac didn't."

There were at least fifty bodies on the ground. Some Batarians, a couple of Varren here and there, and plenty of Vorcha. All of them had holes in them. Some small and bloody, some large and singed.

...

_Voradek saw the Varren leap at the woman's throat, only to receive a knife in its mouth and go into its brain. She aimed her SMG (it looked a lot like a Blood Pack Punisher, only sleeker) and fired a burst at a group of crazed Vorcha, and they all fell. _

_The gravity stopped working, and the lights went out. The woman's partner, a man in gunmetal armor, rose from the ground thanks to a multitude of micro jets and began to fly between the pods, shooting at the mostly helpless sailors from where they couldn't shoot back._

_Voradek could hear the woman breathe hard in the darkness, could tell she loved the carnage and was hungry for more. He saw her glowing blue circle turn on him - they all had blue cameras on their helms, eyes of blue - and could hear her snarl, her prey chosen. _

_He ran as far as he could._

_..._

"What is..."

Wrex interrupted Jenkins before he could ask another question. "That's another dead Vorcha. It's just pregnant."

Jenkins stared at the lumpy alien. "Really? I figured it was sick or something."

"Vorcha sex ed 101: When Vorcha want to breed, a group of them pick a bitch and gangbang him-"

"Him?!"

"-until he's chock full of their parasites. Then, the parasites become tumors, then embryos, then little baby Vorchas. And when they come out, they eat their way out."

"Oh jeez. Sounds like this was a mercy-"

"The pregnant Vorcha suddenly leapt up, snarling "BABIES NEED SOME MEEEAAAAT" and tried to bite Jenkins in the face. Jenkins, true to his training, reacted quickly and buried his Omni-Blade into his (her?) face. And when that didn't work, he destroyed the heart with a burst from his Avenger. The Vorcha fell limp. Dead.

"Huh. You got some steel in you after all, boy." complimented Wrex.

"I had to kill some friends back on Eden Prime. This?...this is nothing." try as he might to sound confident, he was still visibly shaken.

"Please tell me that wasn't the survivor." said Taylor, and he sighed, depressed. "We should have just blown up the ship."

_"Joker to away team. The lifesign's in the galley... looks like our survivor is getting a snack."_

"Anderson to Joker. Roger that."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Shh! You hear that?" Wrex went into the Galley first. While there were lights, there were still plenty of shadows to hide in, and Wrex's instincts made him wary for a predator. "Someone's muttering something."<p>

Anderson, meanwhile, remembered that this was a rescue mission, and called out. "Hello? We're Alliance Marines, and we're here to rescue you. You don't have to be afraid, come on out!"

Wrex 'snorted'. "Yeah, 'Alliance Marine' isn't going to reassure a Batarian slaver, Anderson. Not after Torfan."

"Fine then." Anderson scanned the galley with his helmet's sensors. He found a batarian hiding in one of the food cabinets. He was muttering something, over and over again.

"Eyes of Blue... Eyes of blue... Eyes of blue... Eyes of blue... Eyes of blue..." the batarian rocked himself back and forth. "Gods, let them not find me. Please, Gods..."

Anderson marked the cupboard on his AR HUD, and hand signaled his marines to be careful, as the man was unstable and armed with a shiv. He approached the cabinet slowly, and opened the door."

_**...**_

_Jensen opened the locker, having heard someone pray in there. The fandango blade sprang from his right ulnar mount, and the high-frequency blade made its faint, but high-pitched whine, like a thousand wine glasses being caressed at once._

_Inside the locker was a short Batarian, with the slaver's mark on his forehead. He was paralyzed in fear, as he stared into Jensen's yellow-green eyes._

_"You!... It can't be you... you died on Elysium! The... the bombers!"_

_"...I was lucky. Haliat? Not so much."_

_Please..." he begged. "Don't kill me... I beg you..."_

_Jensen didn't retract the blade and stared at the Batarian's mark. He had seen countless like it before on Elysium, in the months after the Bellum carnage had stopped and the raids began. One of them had tried to take Sunny away, and he hadn't shown them any mercy since. He had even stalked some of their leaders, and killed them in their sleep..._

_"Please..." the batarian started crying. "Have... have mercy."_

_"Oh Jensen..." Hein's voice pierced Jensen's ear._ _"I'm done rigging the ansible. Are you finished with the core?"_

_"Tali and her engineers are still working on disconnecting it." _he replied sub-vocally.

_"Good, good. Oh by the way, I had Jane and Garrus execute all of those poor saps you sent into a coma. Is that a problem?"_

_"...Why? Why did you do that?"_

_"Please, once the Normandy gets here, they'll probably just scuttle the ship anyways, and we can't be bothered with prisoners. Besides, do you really want to give those scumbags a chance to be rescued? They're slavers, Jensen!"_

_"..."_

_"Jensen? Helloooo?"_

_Jensen simply closed the locker. In the recent fight, he had tried to be merciful even in the heat of battle, even as his blood ran hot. He would not kill a man in cold blood again._

_Never again..._

_**...**_

_**"Aaah!" **_Vodarek shouted and waved his shiv around. He soon found his wrist twisted by a Krogan, and the makeshift knife was pulled away from him. He was surrounded by humans - crazy, merciless humans, all of them, and they would lynch him to death for all his crimes, and they would enjoy it.

"Easy! he's panicked enough as it is." The human clad in an angular power-suit had a deep booming voice - much like Vodarek's father. "We're not here to kill you."

"Yet." quipped a large burly human in a curvier power-suit.

"Stow it, Sergeant!"

"...Stowing it, sir."

"Who are you?" asked Vodarek.

"Captain David Anderson of the SSV Normandy. We picked up your distress beacon."

Vodarek was confused. "What beacon?! I never sent out a distress call...I... I ran from my post!"

"Ran from who? Who did this?" asked the Captain. "Tell me."

"...Creatures, with eyes that burned blue, and leading them... was the Shadow of Elysium himself!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>USSV Durendal - Cargo bay - 1530 hours<strong>_

Enraged, Aki punched Hein in the face. "YOU ASSHOLE! YOU PUT US ALL IN DANGER!" she screamed. "AND FOR WHAT?!"

Hein's head was knocked sideways. "Ow! That really, really hurt! Honestly, I could cry, over here!"

Neil, along with the rest of the Deep Eyes, was stacking enemy corpses on top of the Wanzer drop hatch when he saw the doctor land that punch. "Uh oh. Mommy and Daddy are fighting again."

"I'll handle this. You just keep stacking the bodies." Grey came up behind Aki and held her by the arms, but she wrestled away from his grip and landed another punch on Hein's face. Grey then bear hugged her from behind, and she was physically restrained.

Verbally, not so much.

"You practically invited hostile SLAVERS aboard!"

"Yes, I did." said Hein as he rubbed his cheek. "Couldn't afford to have them fire on us and scratch the paint, now could I?"

"We have a CHILD onboard! A CHILD! And what about the Quarians?! You put civilians in danger!"

"Yes, civilians trained in counter-boarding tactics, and we took precautions with the child. He's still in his escape pod, isn't he?"

"He won't come out!"

"Well, I'm sorry but it's not my fault he likes it in there so much, now is it? Look, before you continue with this back and forth I had very good reasons to put my ship and its crew in jeopardy."

"I don't care! I will report to Admiral Travis, and you can forget about taking this ship on a joyride anymore!"

"Oh really? By all means, do report it! You'll have a hard time making 'Hein took down a slave barge with a squad of marines and two cops' sound bad, however. And on that note, consider the fact that over five hundred people won't be getting enslaved in the near future, and thousands more have been spared getting shock collared and don't even know it. If anything the good Admiral will give us all a medal."

"You could have just DESTROYED THE SHIP!"

"Yes, but then I wouldn't have been able to leave a big enough crybaby to keep that Spectre aboard the Normandy off our backs. Or rescue that Omar fella right over there." He waved at the recently freed Omar, who nodded back in response. "Hello! In any case. Engaging the ship at range would have resulted in a damaged hull, and I can't quite afford that."

Aki calmed down, and Grey let her go.

"Spectre? Why would Spectres-"

"Because of T'soni, naturally. Right about now she's the most sought after Asari this sector of space. If the Spectres, and by extension the Council find her, then they'll put her in some hole somewhere where her talents will be wasted, or they'll kill her just to deny Saren an asset. It's a race, and I saw an opportunity to win it."

"Wasn't there any other way to do that without risking getting us all KILLED?"

"Of course there was, but Grey complained that a bunch of gangbangers in a Citadel Slum wasn't quite enough to cut his teeth on, so I obliged him with a small horde of veteran pirates."

Aki glared at Grey, and he groaned inwardly. "I never asked for this!"

"Yes you did! And you got it! The Deep Eyes just lived up to their reputation, and they've proved they can work quite well with C-Sec's own super-cops, to boot. Nothing builds esprit-de-corps like slaughtering Batarians and their minions, wouldn't you say? Also, LOOT! I've been looking to getting my hands on the latest weapons from the Terminus! They're cheap, but they hit hard!"

The doctor glared at both men, and walked away in a huff, disgusted. "If anyone needs me, Me and Lelia will try and coax Fyodor out the escape pod!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Aki and Hein argued, Garrus helped Neil put the bodies of some of the invading pirates that made it inside the Durendal on top of the Wanzer drop hatch. There were at least thirty of them, most of which had been cut down by the Copperhead's machine gun. Some had been taken down by - and this surprised Garrus a bit - Zev, who was scavenging anything serviceable off the pirate's corpses. He was, at the moment, knocking some platinum teeth out of a Batarian's mouth with the pommel of one of his glass knives.<p>

Ryan, for his part, was facing the pile as he muttered something, reading an open book of Terran prayers with his head lowered. This confused Garrus a bit. And annoyed him, too: Ryan was huge and strong, and could easily lift a body up, and he was reading?

"Huh, no offense, but do you think you can help us? There's still quite a few bodies to move and you're a pretty big guy..."

Ryan ignored him, and kept on praying.

"It's this thing he does - one, two, three!" Neil and Garrus tossed the body they were carrying onto the pile, and Neil continued: "Needs to pray for the dead, wash his soul of it or some such. We all got our post-killin' rituals. Me? I prefer a bottle of booze. Hey Zev! You done with this one?"

Zev pulled out the dead Batarian's armored hardsuit boots. "Give me another minute for this one, and another ten for the other two over there. I'll have them stripped down to nothing by then. Feel free to take a break."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While waiting for Zev to finish his extremely thorough scavenging, Garrus noticed Jane sitting on a crate by herself, sharpening one of her many knives. She was taking deep hard breaths, and whenever her blade wasn't grinding against her whetstone, her hands shook a little.<p>

"Hey," she said, barely acknowledging him.

"Hey."

"Wanna screw?"

Garrus' eyebrows rose in surprise "...Well, that came out of nowhere."

"There's nothing like fucking after a fight. Besides, I always wanted to know if what they say about you kittybirds is true."

"Ooookay. Proudfoot, between the blood and the shit covering the floor... I dunno, I feel like we're moving too fast, can we just stay friends?"

"Suit yourself." Jane said. She didn't sound all that disappointed.

"...And here I thought it was the Krogan that loved killing a little too much."

"It's not the killing I enjoy. It's the fighting that gets my blood hot. Killing's the boring part, honestly. But I gotta do it if I want to keep living."

"Still, that's not exactly-"

"Sane?" Jane snickered, put away her small knife, withdrew her Heat Khukri from the sheath strapped to the small of her back and applied her whetstone on it. "I know. We're all a little unhinged here in the Deep Eyes. Why do you think Hein picked us to be on this ship? We're the only ones crazy enough to go along with his antics."

"Your squadmates seem pretty sane to me. Ryan-"

"-believes in an invisible man in the sky. Neil medicates himself with porn, booze and the occasional roll of weed. Grey's... Grey let the Psi techs poke around with his brain to become a soldier again. No. None of us are quite right in the head."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hey! What the hell are you doing?" shouted Grey. The Omar they had rescued from the slave barge seemed to be helping himself to the armory's guns, and seemed very interested in Jane's spare Vector M SMG. Grey pointed his Serpent at the cyborg, and it sighed. The Omar put its hands up, one of which dangled a white handkerchief.<p>

"I surrender." said a smooth baritone voice that came from its speaker. The Omar approached Grey, slowly, until he a couple of feet away from the Serpent's barrel. "Hein gave me permission to be here. Said he wanted me to sort all the guns you and your quarians looted from the ship." He calmly, slowly put the handkerchief over his other hand, made a slow gesture, and swiped the handkerchief away. Where there had been nothing there was now a 375 ml OVO cell. Grey suddenly felt that his Serpent felt lighter, and his HUD reported that his Serpent's power-cell had been taken out.

"What the?!"

The Omar backed away, laughing, and casually tossed the cell back to Grey, who caught it and swiftly reloaded his weapon. "They call me Smuggler. Smuggler Drebin." he stuffed his handkerchief back into his jacket and took a bow. "At your service."

"Whatever it is you're selling, I'm not buying." Grey didn't trust the Omar, and he especially didn't like this one in particular. Grey had found him in the barge's armory, not even slightly bothered by the carnage that was happening just beyond his door. Hein ordered him brought to the Durendal, and he assumed he would be a prisoner.

"Put your weapon down," ordered Hein from behind Grey. The soldier complied, but he would be watching this Drebin very carefully, far closer than he would watch Jensen. Jensen was one man. Having an Omar aboard meant that its collective would know all of the Durendal's secrets within the day.

"Ah, a G302D Serpent." said Drebin, cooly. "Now there's an exotic weapon. Mind if I tweak it?"

"Why in the hell would I let you touch our guns?"

"Hein and I had an agreement: I upgrade and maintain all of the small arms you've got, and he let's me stay on the move aboard this ship."

"He's got me to maintain the armoury."

"Really? Well, it won't do to have a butterbar working as a Quartermaster, would it? Hein knows talent when he sees it. Bonus: I've got black market contacts all over the Traverse and the Terminus. If you need a gun or a mod bought or sold without the hassle of paperwork at competitive prices, all you have to do is bring me the credits, and I'll take care of everything."

"Considering some of the pirate's guns exploded in their faces, I've got doubts as to how talented you really are."

The Omar's golden optics betrayed no emotion, but Drebin's stance expressed a great deal of amusement. "Is that so? Well, those were some really, really old guns. I'm good, but I'm no..." Drebin did his magic trick again, only this time a multitude of tiny gun parts spilled from his hand and onto the floor. "...Magician. Heheh."

Grey looked at the gun parts scattered on the floor and put two and two together. "...You knew we were coming. But that means... Hein, he planned this from the very beginning."

"Smart boy. Now, will you be making use of my services, or do you have somewhere else you need to be?"

Grey eyed Drebin suspiciously. "...I'll be watching you."

Drebin pointed two fingers at his optics, then one at Grey. "Right back at you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen put the salvaged eezo core down on the engine room's floor. It was fairly small, but its thick containment shield weighed nearly half a ton. Between the 108 and his own augs, carrying it was easy, although maintaining his balance had been tricky, and he was glad to have put it down.<p>

"Thank you, mister Jensen." said Tali.

"No problem." he replied. "Need my help fitting this into the ship?"

"Oh, no. We're going to keep this as a backup just in case, but the barge's core is made out of lower quality element zero. The Durendal's core may be fractured, but it's still better."

"...Fractured? That doesn't sound too good."

"There... is a risk of catastrophic failure in using a fractured core when traveling in FTL. But don't worry! The Durendal's been outfitted with an emergency core shutdown system should the core fracture some more."

"If I had known that you'd be put in this much danger, I never would have suggested hiring you to Hein. I'm sorry."

"Oh no, it's alright! I couldn't ask for better pay and working conditions. And Hein... well, he doesn't insult me every time he talks to me - unlike some previous employers I've had, and he's proven very generous in saving my fellow pilgrims. And traveling in space is always dangerous: The Flotilla has more than a few ships with fractured cores, and pirate attacks against its scout groups are common. If anything, I should be thanking you: jobs are hard enough to come by as it is when you're a Quarian..."

"Don't mention it."

"No. no, I really should. You and Vakarian saved me. I never thought I'd receive such kindness from non-quarians, especially not humans. And you and Vakarian... You saved my life, and for that I owe you both a debt of gratitude I can never repay."

Tali looked into Jensen's eyes, and while she found them frightening at first, she started to appreciate the blend of emerald and gold, and the engineer in her was curious as to how exactly they worked. Adam, sadly, misunderstood her stare, and thought he was scaring her. He reactivated his eye-shades, hiding his eyes behind dark gold mirrors, and Tali realized what she had just been doing.

"So, um anyways! It'll be a while before I uh, finish 'fixing that old Omni-Tool'? You can tell Garrus to come see me after Caleston, I'll have it fixed by then."

"...Thanks, I'll be sure to let him know."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Hein's quarters, Durendal, 1630 hours.<strong>_

Hein sat at his desk and opened up the green book he had titled 'Project Galahad'. He made a printout of Jensen's modifications on the 108's code, wrote down some of his thoughts on them for future improvements, and stuck it on one of the book's page. So far, 'Galahad' was progressing well: Jensen displayed some restraint when fighting a small horde of slavers, a close repeat of what had occurred on Elysium seven years ago. He had allowed himself to become a killer when Haliat had made his final push, but on the barge he had mostly held his wrath in check, save for that unfortunate Krogan berserker that made the mistake of charging him. That display of frightening power had caused quite a panic in the pirates, and seeing the modified Tendus so easily destroyed by both Jensen and Grey had caused them to retreat deeper into the ship.

"Note to self," Hein said out loud. "Give Grey standing orders to capture a Wanzer when the opportunity arises. That Tendus was a piece of crap, but it could have been useful."

His console beeped - it was a call from the Shadow Broker.

_**"Wrex reported in. The Normandy took the bait."**_

"Good. Jensen spared a pirate, and that should ensure Anderson doesn't blow up the ship, unless he's feeling particularly vengeful."

_**"Even without the survivor, curiosity can be a powerful thing."**_

"Oh, I took the liberty of leaving some of Bassac's logs behind. It should alert the Alliance that there's going to be a surge in batarian slaver attacks soon. The logs also mentioned that Balak was up to something."

_**"I'll be sure to keep an eye on him. How is Brea doing? Her QEC datalink implant isn't feeding me any data."**_

"She's getting better. She should be awake by the time we come back to from Caleston. I really wish she didn't take such a dislike to me, if she had come to my ship sooner she would still be conscious."

_**"You shot her in the head with a bowgun."**_

"I shot it AT her head, and I needed to maintain my cover and that was a long time ago!"

_**"And Jensen? How is he doing?"**_

"So far so good. He's taking very well to the new suit, although he is a bit distant from the rest of the Deep Eyes. I hoped slaughtering some Batarians together would bring them a bit closer, but... Oh well, I'll just have to coordinate Jensen's efforts separately from the squad, then."

_**"Speaking of Caleston... I just received some more up to date information as to the situation on the ground. You're not going to like this."**_

"Oh? I thought you were practically blinded to the planet?"

_**"I was. "**_

The download completed, and Hein opened the file. "Uh oh."

_**"That's right, the Templars have taken control of the colony, including its_** global and interstellar communications system.**_ But that's not the worst part."**_

An image popped up on screen, showing a meeting between Lord Captain Bafford and Matriarch Benezia, along with a commando of Asari that served as her escort.

_**"This is a day old. It seems Benezia and Bafford have forged an Alliance. Apparently Manah has eluded them, and they're looking all over the planet for her."**_

"Have they found her?"

_**"Benezia's ship, the Waiting Dreamer, hasn't come through Relay Theta 541 back to Terminus space, so it's unlikely... but with Bafford's help it's only a matter of time. Either that, or she's already in their grasp and she's being forced to work on the artifact. If she unlocks it..."**_

"I know."

_**"Saren and the Templars would become unstoppable."**_

"I know! Can Harper do anything?"

_**"No. Your ship is the closest."**_

"It's all up to us, eh? Fine. I'll let my men rest, then brief on the situation tomorrow. Is that all?"

_**"Be careful with Jensen and Brea. They're the last of their respective kinds."**_

Hein broke the connection.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>USSV Durendal - Briefing room - October 7th - 1200 hours<strong>_

In the briefing room, which was basically a small theater that could seat around 30 people, the Deep Eyes, Jensen and Vakarian sat as Hein gave his briefing on Caleston and it's main hub, Syneu. As it turned out, the Templars had appointed themselves as Caleston's peacekeepers, and Benezia had apparently managed to get them to cooperate in her search for her.

Garrus raised his hand. "Question: Does that mean that Saren and the Templars are allies?"

"Possibly." answered Hein.

"If there's anything I know about the Templars is that they really, REALLY don't like non-humans. Are you certain she's not their prisoner?"

"Naked aggression against Citadel races would bring far too much trouble on the Templar's heads. And Asari can be very convincing when they want to be."

"They like cyborgs even less." commented Jensen.

"Don't worry, I've got a plan to get you past customs."

Hein continued detailing the potential threats the Deep Eyes would be facing on the ground: patrols of soldiers in Knight heavy hardsuits and Crusader power armors, infantry support mechs, rapid response teams outfitted in Seraphim flying power armors, and of course, Wanzers.

"What kind of Wanzers?" asked Grey.

"Templar Custom jobs of the Vyzov and Numsekar. The Wyverns will be waiting on the Ascalon to be dropped in any hot zones. Air support will be provided by Cherubim gunships, and Ophanim dropships. The Ascalon is a troop transport, so don't worry: no Dominion interceptors or Virtue fighter-bombers will be hounding the Copperhead."

Neil breathed a sigh of relief at that. "Still, you expect us to take all of these on? We're good, but we're not THAT good.

"Of course not! I'm impressing on you exactly what kind of military shitstorm you'll be kicking up if your covers as mercenaries are blown."

"Why can't we go in as United States soldiers?" asked Grey.

"Because Caleston is a corporate world. The US doesn't have any authority here, and that's why the Templars could take control."

Hein then went on about the rescue mission's second objective: The Prothean monolith. Redwater, while digging for a new geothermal powerplant, chanced on the ruins of an ancient undercity. At the very heart of those ruins a small monument was found: an active Prothean artifact that baffled even the Asari team that was sent to investigate it. Eventually they gave up, and called on the Justicars to lend them T'soni and her expertise. The artifact and the ruins had been the central issue behind the revolt: The Asari had blithely pushed the workers too hard for months, and when it looked like the Asari would be reaping all the benefits of their hard work they decided that enough was enough. A worker's protest turned into a colony-wide riot, and Redwater tried to contain the situation by disabling interstellar communications and sending in their own rent-a-cops.

Naturally, things got worse, and the Ascalon, which was passing through, decided to take control of the situation.

"Didn't the miners know that under Citadel law every species would benefit from researching the Prothean Artifact?" asked Garrus.

"...No, they were pretty much correct." said Hein. "Certain... parties on Thessia had paid Redwater quite a bit of credits to keep the discovery a secret. Redwater failed miserably, naturally."

"That's... no, the Republics would never stand for it."

Hein rolled his eyes. "Yes, the Asari got on top of every major power in the galaxy by... following the rules. That they wrote." he chuckled. "Where was I? Ah yes... Naturally, this artifact and its secrets are far too important for the Templars to keep and for Benezia - and thus Saren - to have access to. So, once T'soni has been found and exfiltrated, your task will be to either extract the artifact's central component, or, failing that, des-" he gulped. "Destro- I'm sorry, I can't say it..." He took a deep breath. "Destroy the priceless fountain of knowledge that this artifact represents."

Hein took a swig of whiskey from a flask, conjured up a blue hologram of a tower, then continued: "So, let's review the objectives, shall we? First, rescue T'soni then exfiltrate her. You'll return to the Durendal to prepare for your second primary objective: acquire or... destroy the Prothean artifact. In order to achieve these goals, Jensen and Proudfoot will infiltrate the Templar's communication relay and plant a bug in their systems: if the Templars find T'soni, we'll know it."

Another hologram came up, a map of a ruined quarter of Caleston's main hub.

"Mister Vakarian, while the Templars may not be willing to incur the wrath of the Turians (yet), they've seen fit to segregate Syneu's alien population into a lovely little ghetto they call the _Alienage_." As soon as you land, the Templars will escort you there, and your job will be to look for T'soni in there. Jensen and Jane will be joining you discreetly once their task is done."

"...Wonderful." Garrus' voice oozed with sarcasm.

"As for the rest of you, your task will be to make contact with Fawkes Moody, a hacker that works under the pseudonym 'Spooky'. He's got a finger on the pulse of Caleston's demimonde, and he'll prove a valuable asset in locating T'soni. Now, let's start giving out some codenames!"

"Oh, no!" Neil protested. "I'm not gonna be Mr. Pink again!"

Grey raised his hand. "I think our regular callsigns will do, sir."

"Oh fine, be that way." Hein sulked a bit. "But since Jensen and Vakarian don't have _nom-de-guerres_, I'll give them some! Mr Vakarian, you're Mr .Blue, and Jensen, you're going to be Mr... Hm... Mr. Shadow. Now, any questions? No? Good! All of the files you'll need are loaded in your Omni-Tools. Everyone, go about your business, prepare yourselves, we'll meet in the cargo bay at 1900 hours. Dismissed!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Templar Troop Transport Ascalon - Bridge.<strong>_

Every human on the ship was dead. The Masque demanded a price for such intense Scrying, to exert so much control over a thousand fanatical warriors, and it didn't care who paid it. Bafford had been the first. The fool had believed his charms to be irresistible, and when Benezia had appeared, her chest and belly exposed in that long, nearly-see through silk gown, he had provided no resistance when the Masque drained him of his Anima. Control came easily then, and Benezia's soft, calm voice suddenly carried the strength of command that had made these Templars so much more... pliant to her suggestions. More were drained, and before long suggestions became inviolable commands.

Such was the power of the Masque of the Black Queen.

And what greater power was there to turn an enemy to your cause? To make his sight as your own, to make his sword as your own?

Benezia sat in a Lotus position in the middle of the ship's command bridge her eyes closed, with the Masque's spider like fingers gripping her crest tightly. She breathed slowly, deeply, concentrating on the millions of tiny embers of life that were packed tightly on Caleston's colony. She could taste their emotions, and sampled them one by one until she found what she was looking for.

Sorrow. Uncertainty. Loneliness.

_"Manah."_

Fright.

_"I know you can hear me, Manah."_

The ember glowed brighter, shining with the bright red flavor of terror. She had been found, and she tried to shut the voice away.

_"Open your eyes, Manah. Show me where you are." _Benezia breathed deep. _"I smell the stink of sweat on your skin. I can taste the ash in your mouth, and I can feel the rumbling in your belly, my child. Open your eyes, and my servants will find you, bathe you, feed you..."_

The terror intensified, mingled with guilt.

_"All is forgiven, my child. It wasn't your fault. I forgive you... No, do not pray for a saviour. I can feel your thoughts turning to your storybooks. There are no woodcutters. There are no riders and no slayers of beasts coming for **you**. I am your only hope in a sea of ash and dust, veined with burning lava. Come to-"_

Pain. Intense pain in her hand. Manah had jabbed something into it, and the shock of the act had broken Benezia's concentration. Benezia smiled: this was a temporary setback. She would find her again, and she would torment her again, and no one would be able to stop her.

Benezia breathed deeply, and slowly, and tried to find the glowing ember of her willful, wayward daughter., tasting of fear and torment... but a sound echoed in the darkness, and the source was a green ember on the edge of becoming a flame, an old soul, tasting of a quiet sorrow and...

The soul stared at her, and just like before, her concentration had been ruined, only this time by her racing heart. No matter: Benezia had caught Manah's scent, and with a thought she set Caim and his men on her trail.

Still, that soul, that core of sorrow burning bright with an ancient intensity... who did it belong to?

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>USSV Durendal - Port ordnance launcher - October 7th - 1830 hours<strong>_

"You _cannot_ be serious." said Jensen.

"Yes, I _am_ serious," replied Hein. "Look, Jumping from high orbit and landing just outside of Syneu is the only way to bypass the Templar's security. If you land with everyone else the Templars will scan you at customs, realize what you are, and kill you. And they can kill you, make no mistake about it. Don't even think that the 108 makes you invincible."

"We're talking about putting me in a torpedo and launching me at a planet!"

"Details! Now shut up and get in there."

Jensen sighed as he laid down in the large, almost coffin-like tube of metal and carbon, and Hein helped him get strapped in securely.

"First time, Jensen?" asked Jane as she double checked her webbing and the combat vest she wore on top of the Corvo suit.

"I once took a Low Earth Orbit shuttle from Singapore and crashed it into the Arctic Ocean. Not keen on doing it again."

"Oh!" exclaimed Hein as he withdrew a weapon from inside his coat. It was a compact crossbow, collapsed inside a leather scabbard. "I almost forgot: Corporal Proudfoot, before you go into your pod, meet Draco. It's self-cocking, but for the sake of space I had to ditch the ammo box and most of what makes Maria cool. Still, combined with these..." He handed her the weapon, along with a box of bolts. "... carbon bolts I tested on the Slave Barge, you'll be able to silently take down a fully armored Templar at two hundred meters, provided you nail them in the sweet spot. Use it wisely, you've only got twenty bolts."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, Jensen? time's a-wasting..." Hein closed the cylindrical casket, and suddenly, its interior was flooded in gel. Hein's voice came through in Jensen's closed helmet. _"Don't worry, this non-newtonian fluid is designed to keep the landing from killing you, in case the high-density gas launchers fail. And don't worry, you won't be landing in ice water this time."_

"Well, that's a relief. Swimming in the Arctic was not fun."

_"It's far more likely you'll land in the lava."_

"Wait, wha-"

"GERONIMO!" Hein pressed the launch button, and Jensen was magnetically hurled towards Caleston.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>She remembered hating her keepers, those cold, silent Justicars that constantly glared at her, inspecting her work, making sure everyone she spoke to stayed at a respectable distance. That's how the revolt had begun, she had been the lit match that had ignited the oil: one of the workers had tried to help her get up. He had touched her, and felt an unimaginable delight course through his being.<p>

The three justicars saw him, and exacted a punishment on him. His friends saw them, and before long chaos broke loose. That had been seven days ago.

When the Justicars tried to leave with Manah in tow, the Red Dragon came down, and its rider dismounted from the frightening machine. The Justicars believed him a fool to face them on his own, but they had greatly underestimated him.

She could never forget the sight of him cutting through all three of them with one stroke of his oversized blade. Though they had been cut down, they hadn't died immediately. They had been so superior, so unflappable even as the riot they caused raged around them. When the rider cut through them, they whimpered lamely as they tried to reach for their missing halves. One of them tried the stuff her intestines back in her belly. Yes, she hated them, but she never wished them to die so horribly.

Or did she?

She remembered the dragon rider seeing her and grinning like a madman, slowly walking towards her. She panicked, and ran, and only the chaos of the revolt saved her from being captured. Now she hid in the backstreets of a slum, the result of too much breeding and not enough work to go around, the rush of industry and commerce on Caleston having slowed then and yet left so many behind.

She had remained unseen in a cloak made out of a ruined piece of cloth that served as a mat for a poor old man that had died of disease or starvation. She had subsisted on eating whatever scraps of food she found, and drank whatever leaked out of toilet pipes. It was barely enough, and now after six days of this, she was filthy, hungry, and thirsty.

She wanted to ask someone to help her, but the Geis wouldn't let her.

She wanted to beg for food, but the Geis wouldn't let her.

She wanted to beg alms, but the Geis wouldn't let her.

She wanted to return to the monastery...and that, the Geis would allow her. Only the Justicars could feed her, clothe her, and take care of her. To run away from them meant that the Geis they burned into her skull would do everything in its power to sabotage her attempts at survival beyond the reach of her caretakers... her jailors.

But she would never return to them, she would never return to her mother. She would not give up the freedom that she had found. She would prefer to starve and die of thirst in this pile of filth the go back into that cage of ancient, carved stone.

It was night now, nearly dawn, and from the backstreet that was her temporary home, she could see a falling star, and for a moment she was a child again, a child that loved storybooks and fairy tales, and wished for a knight to come and rescue her from this place, and the Templars that hounded her.

But then she snapped herself back to reality. Here, there were monsters, both animal and sapient, aplenty, and the tales told no lies about those... but heroes? Those were pure fiction, lies concocted by parents to give false hope to despairing children.

She reminded herself that the falling star was just another piece of space debris entering the atmosphere, and cried herself to sleep.

And then the screaming started, and she awoke, and saw the Red Dragon set fire to everything. It had come for her, and fear fueled her flight.

As her worn shoes hit the dirty concrete ground, she silently prayed:

_"Someone, anyone, save me from this!..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Someone, anyone, save me from this!..."<em>

Jensen thought he heard someone speak to him, but paid no mind. But something old and ancient paid heed, and responded.

Jensen's Icarus Landing system overloaded and activated, and he veered off course.

"Jensen! What is g...ing...on?! Y...ff course!"

"Hein! What the hell did you do?!"

"...nt...hear..."

Jensen cursed at his radio even as he was bathed in yellow light.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The shantytown was on fire, and Manah could do nothing but run. She could hear screaming all around her, the poor, disenfranchised humans scrambling to escape their doom.<p>

"COME ON OUT," screamed the Red Dragon. "COME ON OUT, ALIEN WHORE, BEFORE I BURN EVERYTHING AROUND YOU!"

Manah could see the giant, bipedal machine breathe an intense stream of flame from its mouth, melting shacks and igniting flesh with wild abandon. The screams lasted only a few seconds under the onslaught, and while Manah was seeing this from quite a distance away, the smell of burnt flesh reached her nose, blown her way by the hot winds. She wanted to retch, but held it in and focused on running away, as far as her legs could take her.

And ran she did, and she would have run to the other side of the world had she not tripped on something, and her forehead hit the gravel. She tried to get up, and saw what had barred her feet's way.

It was the trampled corpse of a mother and her child, crushed under the weight of a stampede of panicked people. The sight was a final onslaught of horror, and the consequences of her actions were finally realized. If only she hadn't been here, if only the Red Dragon and the Templars had not come looking for her here, then that mother and her child would have lived.

"COME OUT, AND RETURN TO THE BLACK QUEEN!" screamed the Red Dragon.

If she had simply submitted, and gone back to her mother sooner, none of this would have happened. She had wanted to be free. Was that so selfish? As she looked around her, at the sight of burning homes and trampled corpses, she realized that the answer was yes. Her freedom had cost far, far too many lives.

She got back up, and walked towards the source of the carnage like a condemned woman, and when she was within shouting distance of the monster, she screamed.

"I'm here! Take me back to my mother! Just..." tears welled up in her eyes and she fell on her knees. "Just stop this! I don't want this blood on my hands anymore!..."

But the Red Dragon laughed, paid her no heed, and continued the slaughter, Two Templars, in fine armor that granted them the power of flight, landed near her. One was obviously a man, large and powerful, and the other was slender, a woman.

"Oh, look at her, Leon..." said the woman. "Her skin is like baked sugar! Oh! Why does the black queen hurt me so by denying me such a treat? Let me caress her with my tongue, just once..."

"...Resist your urges, Ari." said the man. "Diablerie exudes from her pores, and it can sunder even your fractured will to enslave you." He pointed a black staff at Manah, and from its tip sprang a glowing blade. "Do you know how long we've been looking for you?"

"Six days." replied Manah. "Six, miserable, long days..."

"Do you know how many men and women Lord Commander Caim has carved his way through in his search for you? Do you know how many people died in the revolt you and your minders have caused?"

"I know! And I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. Please, make him stop!"

"...Very well. I am glad to see you have seen God's wisdom." Leon activated his helm's communicator. "Lord Caim. We have found her. She has submitted."

The huge man-shaped machine stopped its carnage, and slowly made its way towards Manah. Once she was within reach, it wrapped its metallic fingers around her torso. It brought her close to its chest, and the chestplate opened in two, revealing a dark-haired young man, his tanned face scratched with scars. Sets of his various personal swords were mounted on mechanical racks on each side of his metal seat. Caim, the Dragon Rider, looked at her with contempt, held out his hand at her, and squeezed. The machine imitated the act, and Manah could feel her insides being crushed.

"Ah!..."

"...I don't know what the Black Queen sees in such a tiny, useless whelp of a creature such as you, and it is my love for the Queen that keeps me from squeezing the life out of you."

"...What, you feel... for her isn't love... The Masque is controlling you, all of - AH!"

Caim squeezed a bit harder. "Don't mock me, witch! My loyalty is true, my will is my own, and my fuse is short! I have not had my fill of death this night!"

"...Do it. Slake your hunger, then."

"What?"

"Do it, Kill me - I don't care anymore! All I do is destroy things around me simply by existing. My death will be a release, and my mother will not truly care... show how loyal you are, how willful you are... Do it."

"Hah! As you wish!"

"My Lord!" Leon protested, "No! The Queen's commands!"

Caim was about to squeeze, but stopped himself at the sudden crack of thunder and the roar of a meteor fast approaching. Before the Templars could spot it, it crashed nearby, causing an explosion of green vapor and yellow lighting. The blast was strong enough to push Leon and Ari back, and the crater the object made when it landed was smaller than expected. The Templars were confused, and approached the object. It was a cylinder, and they recognized it as a drop pod. The cylinder's main hatch burst open, knocked away by a powerful black limb. A dark figure climbed out of it, yellow lightning crackling around its silhouette. It stumbled out, holding its sides in pain, and rose.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen stumbled out of the pod, the impact gel sublimating all around him. He swore to himself that once he got back on the Durendal, Hein would pay dearly for what he just put him through. Oh yes, there would be a reckoning for this.<p>

He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He was in a shantytown, that much was certain, and once the ringing in his head stopped, he realized that it was on fire.

"Goddamnit," he muttered to himself, "Why did it have to be fire... I _hate_ fire!" Had he caused this when he crashed? No, the blaze was too widespread. He heard the footfall of a 30 ton giant, and turned in its direction. There were two Seraph-wearing Templars and a red colored Wyvern Wanzer standing there, staring confusedly at him. The Wanzer held a young woman in its hand, and Jensen recognized her immediately. She was dirty, but there was no mistaking her red eyes and white skin, and long crest.

It was Manah T'soni.

The Wyvern's cockpit closed, and Jensen felt a light being shined on him coming from the Wanzer's head. He was being scanned.

"ABOMINATION!"

The Wyvern's mouth opened, and plasma gathered in it. The Seraphs fired their jets, one of them spun his spear, the other activated her Omni-Tool and a some kind of spiked, half-circle of a sword, and they began their attack.

Jensen extended the Fandango from his right arm, and it sang, ready to taste steel.

The fight had begun.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Next time, on Mass Effect: Human Revolution:<em>

_"Who are you?" asked Manah._

...

_"What part of 'Covert Operation' did you not understand, Jensen?!" screamed Grey._

_..._

_"Without those IFF codes, the Templars will be on to us in seconds." said Neil._

_..._

_"Lucky for you guys, I can help with that." said Spooky._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Special Thanks to Brellin at the Spacebattles forums for helping me sort out Marine Ranks. This isn't like Star Trek, folks. You got Sergeants with as much authority as lieutenants, or something. I'm still not sure. Also, moar thanks to Setokaiva for the spell checking.<br>**_


	24. 21 The Masque of the Black Queen part 2

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**_

_**Chapter 21: The Masque of the Black Queen Part II**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early Author's Casting Notes: <strong>_

_**Caim is voiced by Sam Witwer**_

_**Fawkes 'Spooky' Moody is voiced by David Duchovny**_

_**Manuel "Lunchbox" Melligen is voiced by Matthew Lillard**_

_**The Black Queen is voiced by Marina Sirtis and Mary-Elizabeth McGlynn**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Here's what I have: A revolver with explosive bullets. A high-frequency blade. Some kind of Electromagnetic shield. A stunner. Four LAMS. Two Snowblind grenades. A prototype Power Armor, loaded with Omni-Tool apps such as the US variants of Overload, Incinerate, Cryo blast, and god knows what else.<em>

_Here's what they have: Two Seraph flying power suits, one Omni-blade spear, one vicious looking heat blade, an Omni-Tool, and a goddamned Wanzer with a plasma cannon for a mouth and a giant sword in its right hand._

_And T'soni, on its left._

Jensen leapt out of the way of the red Wanzer's plasma stream, letting it destroy his insertion pod. He primed and threw a Snowblind grenade at the Three Templars, drew Sasha out, and shot it out of the sky. Snowblind particles burst out, spreading over a hundred meter radius. The Templars, being in the initial blast, were now covered with the signal-jamming pollen, ensuring that they would not be able to communicate with their fellows for 10 hours... and ruining their shield's mass sensors.

The Seraphs were quick to respond, with the Omni-tool wielding woman rising in the air and turning the dusty ground beneath Jensen into a field of ice by firing a multitude of Cryo Blasts with wild abandon. Blooms of crystaline icicles, sharp and pointed, rose wherever the blasts landed. Jensen dodged and leapt, trying not to be turned into a frozen statue by the woman's bombardment, but the 108's soles weren't configured to walk on ice, and he slipped and fell on his back.

The spear-wielding Templar leapt into the air, and came down on Jensen, intending to pierce his armored head. Jensen rolled sideways, and sparks flew as the spear's wide blade narrowly scratched his helmet and it buried itself in the frozen earth.

Jensen kicked the spearman in the abdomen, a blow that knocked the wind out of him and brought him low. Jensen rose to his feet, ready to finish the fight by bringing Sasha to bear against the Templar's head, but then the Red Wanzer intervened. It struck overhead with its sword, and Jensen leapt back, narrowly avoiding getting bisected by a thick, sharp plate of metal. The Wanzer then unleashed a barrage of anti-personnel slugs from four machine guns mounted on its head, and with no time to dodge and no sure footing to do so, Jensen raised his left elbow and activated the Pelta Shield mounted on it. From the device came a whine, then a sharp, high pitched roar. An electromagnetic vortex appeared in front of it, forcing the bullets to veer away, hitting everything - the air, the ground, everything... but Jensen.

The power drain was amazing, and the 108's super-capacitors went from 95 to 76 percent in one second. Jensen knew he couldn't keep this up forever, and decided to act.

The Wanzer had knelt to make its sword strike, and Jensen was presented with a golden opportunity to reach T'soni. He found some sure footing and leapt up at the Red Wanzer's left hand, and landed on its thickly armored forearm. The Red Wanzer stopped firing, apparently unwilling to risk harming T'soni.

T'soni yielped in surprise and confusion. Then, she shouted: "Who are you?!"

"Hold still!" Jensen swung Fandango through the Wanzer's metal wrist - one of the weakest, unarmored parts of the machine. Between Jensen's considerable strength and the blade's monomolecular sharpness, the vibrating blade sliced through the metal in half a second, and the huge mechanical fist fell, along with T'soni, who screamed on the way down. It was a short fall, or it would have been, had the Spearman not caught her in flight. Adam thought to jump onto the flying spearman while he still could, but the Red Wanzer scraped him away from its gauntlet with its enormous sword and he fell on the ground.

"LEON, TAKE HER TO THE BLACK QUEEN!" The Red Wanzer's pilot shouted through its loudspeakers.

'Leon' nodded and fired his wing mounted thrusters and rose in the air away from the fight, slowed by the extra mass of a young Asari woman wrapped in a Wanzer's hand.

"HELP ME~!" T'soni screamed as she was being taken away. Jensen's blood ran hot with outrage at the sight, but the Wanzer would not let him give chase as it attempted to crush him like an insect beneath its heel. Jensen responded by dodging then cloaking, but the flying Templar quickly fired an overload tech mine at him, making him visible as it exploded in a conflagration of lightning arcs.

"Oh no you don't!" she taunted, then laughed. Jensen cursed in frustration - would he ever be able to get away from these bastards, he wondered? The Wanzer tried stomping Adam - over, and over, and over again, the ground shaking with every impact, but Jensen proved to be too fast for the eight meter tall, 35-ton war machine. Eventually, the red painted Wyvern gave up this course of action, and instead attempted a sweeping strike with its sword, shaving ice crystals off the ground.

Adam jumped up, avoiding getting sliced in half, and landed right on top of the Wanzer's head. He quickly stuck a primed LAM on its main optic before it could react, and he regretted his success when the machine tried to shake him off. The remaining Seraph attacked Jensen when he lost balance as he attempted to leap away, and caught him in a bear hug from behind. She fired her thrusters as the LAM exploded, leaving the Wanzer's head only partially damaged, its backup optics still intact.

"Six, Seven! Going to Hell, or to Heaven?!" cackled the woman. Jensen could feel his mass lighten as they rose a hundred meters high, then felt the pull of gravity getting stronger, and the Seraph turned around and doubled the power to her jets. She intended to crash herself into the ground, with Jensen along with her. Was she suicidal, insane, both? Jensen didn't really care, but he wasn't going to join her in death.

Sadly for the Templar, she was going fast enough to trigger Jensen's Icarus Landing System, and she found herself bathed in an electromagnetic field, causing her suit's VI to malfunction and mismanage the power of its actuators. Jensen freed himself from her grasp, placed her between him and the ground, and raised his fist. The electromagnetic field around Jensen gathered around it, and concentrated into a bright aura.

"Guess where you're going." he said just before burying his fist in her abdomen. It exploded in a burst of gold light, and the Templar woman was knocked down to the ground by the combined forces of the blast and Jensen's fist, and despite making a sizable crater and kicking up a great deal of dust and shards of ice at the Wanzer's feet, she would live.

Barely.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Caim screamed in rage through his loudspeakers, and responded to his companion's defeat by deploying his ruined left arm's triple-barreled auto-cannon and tracked the Abomination in mid-air. It cloaked, and the pilot cursed some more as Angelus' VI failed to acquire a lock through the IMREC system. He looked down, expecting another cloud of dust and ice to be kicked up. When it did, he turned up Angelus' mass lightening field and fired its back mounted thrusters to jump backwards. The Templar pilot tracked his opponent's footprints in the ice, and fired at them, hitting nothing but ground until he lost track of him completely.<p>

Expecting that the Abomination would attempt to plant another explosive, Caim waited for his Wanzer's armor's pressure sensors to trigger, but after ten seconds of frantically looking around for signs of the _thing_, he realized that he had been... ignored. The cyborg had obviously come for the Asari witch, (if his earlier attempt at freeing her was anything to go by) and fighting Caim would only have put more distance between it and the witch as Leon made his way to the starport, where the Waking Dreamer awaited to receive Manah and take her to the Black Queen.

He maxed out his custom Wyvern's Eezo core and its thruster's outputs, intent on rejoining his comrade, knowing the Abomination would be hot on his heels. He looked down at Ari Osha's ruined form, her limbs and body mangled like a discarded and unwanted toy, then fired an emergency flare, drawing the attention of every Templar within miles. Hopefully, they would get there in time to rescue her.

If not, then so be it.

The thrusters burned bright, sending Angelus into the sky.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Let me go! Please!" begged the Asari. Leon was carrying her by the severed hand of Angelus, mindful of not touching her directly.<p>

"Hmph! It was not that long ago that you saw wisdom and surrendered, and now you expect me to simply let you run amok in this city? Your heart is fickle, girl!"

The girl struggled against her bonds, but the mechanical hand's grip held fast. Unfortunately, Leon's Element Zero core was not as steadfast and unyielding, and a charge was starting to build up to a dangerously high level within it. Worst of all, he was starting to run out of fuel. He would have to land, and soon.

Leon spotted an APC at the bottom of a ravine of shacks, headed towards the middle of the slum, and tried to communicate with it. He then remembered that he was still covered in Snowblind particles. Instead, he threw his Omni-Spear in front of it, and the APC screeched to a halt as the weapon stuck out of the ground.

Leon brought himself and his cargo down, and a fireteam of four Templars came out of the vehicle to greet him. One of them was wearing a dark grey and red suit of Crusader Power Armor (with the markings of a Knight Sergeant) and wielding a Gatling gun, while two where outfitted with the standard Knight power suits and Katara Assault rifles. The last was wearing a nonstandard light suit, and wielded a Longinus particle beam rifle, one of the newer weapons the Sages had developed.

"Hail, Lord Leon." said the Crusader. He eyed the Asari cautiously. "Is this... Have you finally found her?"

"Yes, it is she." replied Leon. "Knight Sergeant, you must hurry and take her to the _Waking Dreamer_, for my armor cannot carry both she and I any further. Touch her not directly! Her skin is the Devil's delight, and she will lead you astray."

"Very well," the Knight Sergeant gestured at his two subordinates, prompting them to load the girl in the APC, following Leon's instructions. The power armoured Templar was about to say something, but then began to stammer. "- err, My Lord?"

"Yes?"

The Crusader pointed at a shadow in the distance, its form resembling a man. It ran at them, faster than a cheetah, kicking up a dust storm with every stride. "W-what is that?!"

Leon's eyes widened in shock at the sight of the Abomination and he swore: "By the Skull of Sidon! Men, get out of here, now! You, give me that particle gun!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen decloaked and parkoured across the rooftops and rickety bridges of the shantytown. Surrounded by burning shacks, dodging and weaving amongst panicked squatters, Jensen tried to figure out why the Templars had attacked these poor people and their homes. He concluded that no reason could be good enough.<p>

He eventually caught sight of his quarry in the distance: the flying spearman, carrying Manah T'soni. He saw him land in a ravine. According to Jensen's maps, the bottom of that ravine was a paved road meant for cargo trucks, and he saw an opportunity to see just how fast he could go in this suit. He jumped down from the rooftop, landing on the road that would take him to where the Spearman had landed, and started sprinting.

Two hundred and fifty kilometers per hour. On foot. That's how fast Jensen could go. It had taken him 20 seconds to accelerate to that speed, putting him on par with a sports bike. It was one thing to ride something that fast, but to _be_ that fast was an experience that was... elating. He hadn't felt that good since the first time he realized the possibilities of his augs, realizing how much stronger and faster he had become. But the 108? It multiplied that performance, that sensation threefold, and it wasn't even going at full power. This strength... the temptation to misuse it was hard to resist. it had always been hard to resist, and the suit could give him more than he had previously imagined...

He reminded himself that there was a girl in need, captive to a bunch of mass murderers, and his elation gave way to a quiet, cold, righteous _rage, _right at the moment that he saw Manah about to be put inside a Templar APC. The spearman had traded his weapon for some kind of sniper rifle. Jensen sensed that it was aimed directly at his heart, and swerved off course just to the right enough to feel a beam of energy grazing his left shoulder.

Adam, lacking any brakes, then proceeded to wall run into a shack, blowing past its walls of tin and wood, and into its neighbors.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>To Leon's utter shock, the Abomination dodged a stream of charged particles and proceeded to defy gravity, charging through the shacks mounted on the ravine's rock wall. The Templar attempted to predict where he would be, but the shacks provided him with too much cover, and Leon missed three times before the gun overheated and went into emergency cooldown mode. The cyborg, having reached the apex of his wall run at three stories high, jumped off the wall, and landed on top of the fleeing APC. Leon cursed under his breath, switched the Longinus from Rifle mode into its Greatsword mode as he reclaimed his spear. He fired his thrusters, intent of finishing this fight once and for all.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The APC's automatic gun turret dealt with with a stroke of the Fandango, Jensen proceeded to try and pry off one the hatches. No sooner had he put his hands on one that he heard the roar of jump jets fast approaching. It was the spearman again, dual wielding a huge Omni-Sword and that blasted spear. Deciding that he had it up to there with close combat, Adam leveled Sasha at the Templar and fired six shots at him... hitting nothing but air. The Seraph's pauldron mounted thrusters had fired repeatedly, allowing the Templar to dodge each time.<p>

The Seraph's engines spluttered, their fuel completely consumed. When it became obvious that he would land on the ground instead of the APC, Jensen had thought himself victorious. He was surprised when the Templar speared the side of the APC and spun on the shaft like a high bar gymnast, using the momentum to jump on top of the APC. 'Leon' immediately began an incredibly fast flurry of rapid strikes at Jensen with the huge Omni-Sword, and Jensen replied with strikes of his own with the Fandango, his reflexes going into overdrive as the Quicksilver enhanced his perception of time.

Neither blade could bite into the other. Neither man could yield to the other as their feet remained perfectly mag-clamped on the APC's metal. For Jensen, though, fighting with a blade stuck on his forearm was a bit awkward, and his opponent was a trained melee combatant. Eventually they were deadlocked, and their faceplates were inches from one another.

"Your speed is impressive, Abomination! But you are no swordsman, I can tell!" taunted the Templar. "Give up, and I'll make your end swift!"

"You're right, I'm not a swordsman!" replied Jensen as he suddenly thrust his head forward, headbutting his foe. The impact stunned the Templar, leaving him unprepared to a kick to the groin. He twisted the Omni-Sword away from the Templar's grasp, and sliced off his legs at the knees, the intense heat of the edge melting the ceramic and carbon, and the flesh within. Before the Seraph could scream, he was knocked away by a sidekick in the ribs, and his limp body crashed into a shack, hard.

His opponent defeated, Jensen walked to the front of the APC where the vehicle's engine block should be, and plunged the Omni-Sword deep inside of it, robbing the machine of all power.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Caim landed Angelus in a kneeling position near the wreck of the APC, obeying his gut instincts. It's engine had been destroyed, and most of its hatches had been torn open. Four Templars lay near it, some of their limbs cleanly sliced off though no blood pooled around them. The Wanzer pilot opened his cockpit, took one of his swords from the built-in racks, and jumped down to get a closer look at the scene.<p>

The templars were, amazingly enough, still alive, but unconscious from the combined shocks of blunt force trauma and loss of limbs. Their stumps were cauterized, no doubt from the heat of an Omni-blade. Nearby was the Angelus' hand, its fingers pried open, its prize long gone. T'soni had gotten away, no doubt thanks to the Abomination.

One of the fallen Templars stirred, a Knight Sergeant in full Crusader Power Armor. His mighty weapon lay ruined some distance away. He groaned and coughed, and Caim approached him, seized him by the collar and slammed him against the ruined vehicle.

"Where did the Abomination go?! Talk!"

"I...I do not know, milord..."

"You must have seen something!"

"I...cannot feel my legs..."

"I care not! Show me the way to my quarry!"

"Please, milord call for aid, please..." and the Sergeant fell back into unconsciousness, leaving Caim with no direction to pursue the _thing_ that had wronged him so.

He roared in rage.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The sewers. Why did it have to be sewers? <em>Jensen lamented having to use these, but with a huge Wanzer chasing him, it was smart to hide where it was too small for an eight-meter tall war machine to even fit, let alone walk around. The cement walls were filthy and wet, reflecting some of Jensen's Omni-Lantern's light. The pipes were rusted, leaking dirty brown water. At least this time Jensen didn't have to deal with the smell thanks to his helmet's filters.

Manah T'soni, however, had no such protection... but she didn't seem to mind at all. She looked haggard, like she hadn't eaten or slept in days. Her short red cloak, embroidered with an elaborate gold Paisley pattern at the hem and high collar, was worn and faded. Her white, elegant and slightly form-fitting jumpsuit, as well as her knee-high hiking boots and gloves, were covered in dirt and soot, much like her face.

And yet, she still looked beautiful.

The adrenaline brought on by the excitement of her capture and subsequent rescue had worn off half an hour ago, and now Manah's legs could take her no further. They wobbled, and she fell on her knees. Jensen reached out and tried to help her up, but then panic galvanized the young Asari, giving her new vigor.

"NO!" she screamed as her biotics flared for a moment, and Jensen withdrew his hand in surprise. T'soni scrambled back and rested against the wall, tired. "...don't, please..."

"I... I wasn't going to hurt you."

"It's not me I'm worried about..."

Jensen was confused at this. How could she hurt him? "Are you sick?"

Manah winced for a brief second, as if something stung her. "...I just need to sit for a while..."

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept?"

"I've been eating mere scraps for days, and slept little out of fear of being caught by my mother's thralls."

Jensen fished out a small MRE pack out of his belt and tried to give it to T'soni, but she gasped a little, afraid. Jensen had seen reactions like this before, in victims of violent sexual assaults. He simply knelt down and set the MRE on the ground, and slid it over to her. She picked it up, unwrapped the plastic from the flavorless block of protein, and ate... slowly. Most people would have wolfed their food down after days of malnutrition, but it seemed Manah was intent on being as ladylike as possible.

"Your mother's... _thralls_?" Jensen put an emphasis on that last word. Who speaks like that anymore, he wondered. "You mean the Templars?"

She finished chewing her food, then replied. "Yes. And the police, and the young hooligans that rule the west side of Syneu."

"Last I checked, the Templars weren't exactly keen on speaking to aliens, let alone taking orders from one."

"They had no choice... My mother used an ancient device called the Masque of the Black Queen to brainwash them, along with the other militant groups still active on Caleston, even the police."

"How does it work?"

"... I'm not sure. According to the encyclopedias, the Masque seems to 'grant the wearer irresistible charisma, though at a price'. I believe the Masque amplifies the range and power of an Asari's ability to meld..." she held up her hand, bandaged by a strip of dirt torn cloth. "Pain can interrupt melding, so... my theory has some credence."

"She tried to take you over?" said Jensen as he tossed her a small Medi-Gel applicator. She looked at him in confusion. "Just push the button and pour the gel that comes out onto the bandage. It'll take the sting off."

"Oh, thank you... But no. She doesn't want me under her control, she wants to punish and torment me..." she said sadly. "Becoming her slave would make things too simple, too quick."

Jensen didn't want to pry too much in her relationship with her mother, and shifted the subject back onto the device. "This... Masque sounds suspiciously like magic."

"It might as well be, for all that anyone knows about it... You ask so many questions, I have some of my own, if that's alright?"

"Shoot."

Manah suddenly looked confused. "...Shoot what?"

"Nevermind, just ask your questions."

"What is your name?"

Jensen thought about answering honestly, but remembered that Hein had advised him that he should refrain from using his real name. After all, if the Templars knew exactly who he was and what he was doing, they would rededicate themselves to destroying him, Council or no.

"You can call me Shadow." Might as well go with that _nom-de-guerr_e Hein gave him. It... fit him, strangely enough.

"...alright. Why did you rescue me?"

"I'm working with someone interested in working with you."

"Is... is that all?"

"Well, yes."

"Oh..." Manah's eyes were downcast. "Of course, it always come down to how useful I am, doesn't it?" She laughed weakly, and bitterly.

"...I'm sorry if I disappointed you. He wants you to have a look at the Mars Archive, thought you might jump at the chance."

"The Mars archive?" a tired smile came across her face. "I've wanted to visit it ever since I heard about it."

"Well, when I get you off this planet, you'll be able to go see it."

"Yes, that sounds..." Manah's eyes began to flutter, and she could not keep them open. "but first..."

"Get some sleep. I'll watch over you, and wake you if there's any danger."

"Oh, thank you... I... It's been... too long." Manah's head rested against the filthy wall, and she fell asleep, safe in the knowledge that no harm would come to her.

Jensen sat next to the sleeping girl, and double-checked his comm systems: between being still covered in a few Snowblind particles and being stuck underground, his signal wouldn't reach anyone any time soon.

With little else to do, Adam inspected the two weapons he had salvaged: One was a Carnifex IV, painted red and dark gunmetal, as per Templar custom, and the other was the Omni-Greatsword, which, upon closer examination, turned out to be the very same particle rifle the Spearman had fired at him. It was now in its storage mode, and couldn't be coaxed out of it due to its RFID security chip.

Jensen decided to spend some of his time hacking it wirelessly. After all, Garrus could always use a better weapon.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Something was wrong about this place.<em>

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Manah's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of an unseen stranger that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

_"** No, I am no stranger."**_

_"Mother?!"_

_**"Did you think your mind would be hidden from me in the realm of dreams? Oh, my sweet child, I will always find you..."**_

_Oily shadows sprang from the ground, and they all wore the same Masque, their empty eye sockets staring right into her very being._

_**"Where are you now?... Oh, but it is filthy in here, is it not? The smell assaults your nostrils even as your breathe..."**_

_Manah desperately tried to inflict pain upon herself, but her body felt like air and fire, immaterial and inviolable. The  
>Masques laughed in response, echoing the snickering laughter of schoolchildren mocking the paling of her skin, so long ago...<em>

_**"Shh... be still... The stone is damp, and wet... and rats scurry about in the dark... You are underground, in the warrens. Be still, be still, my sweet child, for my champions will come looking for you soon, very soon. You'll be nice to them, won't you?"**_

_More taunting, more shadows, and more masks. She tried to wake herself up, to warn her protector that danger was coming! _

_**"Shhhh... rest, rest your tired bones, my sweet child." soothed Benezia, disingenuously. "It has been a long day, a long week... sleep, sleep and be still and submit as they come and take you and taste your honeyed skin..."**_

_Another shadow sprang from the ground, but this one smaller and wreathed in a gentle black smoke. It was a four-legged furred animal, proud of bearing, with a long nose and pointed ears and eyes that glowed green. It barked, and ran away, and Manah saw in it a friend, a guide away from this wretched place. She ran after it._

_**"He is but a mercenary. Once my warriors come he will save himself without a second thought."**_

_Manah caught up to the animal, and fear and despair made way for a feeling of... hope, yes that was what that feeling was called. She hadn't tasted of that emotion in decades. _

"wake up..."

_**"You cannot escape me." **Benezia's voice ran cold.** "You cannot escape what you've done."**_

"...wake up."

_**"My little wing, my beautiful little wing... why did you do it, Manah? She loved you, as you loved her... too deeply and too MUCH..."**_

_The animal guided her through the woods, into a bright golden light. Glowing tendrils and smoke emanated from it, and she stopped, afraid to approach it any further. It was warm from here, but how much hotter would it get if she were to go within the light? The thought of burning alive frightened her._

"Don't be afraid..." soothed a voice but alive with youthful energy, yet tempered by millenia of wisdom.

_Manah felt a hand seize her by the ankle, and she fell in the dirt, dragged away from the light. She looked at her abductor, and saw her mother, naked, her blackened flesh violated by wires and metal._

_**"You think you can escape from me?! You think he will save you from me?!" **The horrid vision of Benezia straddled Manah and squeezed her throat with both hands. **"HE WILL SOON KNOW, AND WHEN HE DOES HE WILL PUT YOU DOWN LIKE THE DISGUSTING, FILTHY ANIMAL THAT YOU ARE!"**_

_A growl, then a bark, and the animal charged at the vision of a corrupted Benezia, teeth bared. It bit into her neck as its charge knocked her down. Benezia screamed, then gurgled, but her voice still echoed in Manah's ears._

_**"MANAH~! HELP MEEEE~!"**_

_Manah scurried away from the ghastly sight of her mother being torn apart by an animal, got on her feet, and walked into the blinding light. She took one last look at her mother, her eyes tearful._

_"I'm sorry..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry..." Manah said sorrowfully as she shed a tear, and she felt her body being gently shaken by the shoulder. She opened her eyes, and found Shadow kneeling over her, his hand on her shoulder.<p>

She panicked, and her body flared with Biotic fire.

"NO!" she screamed, and a burst of kinetic energy sent Shadow on the opposite wall. He groaned, and stirred, and looked right at her, and terror gripped Manah's heart as she stared into that featureless faceplate. Asari Matriarchs had given up fortunes for the chance to touch her again. What would a mercenary, strong as a titan do? The question terrified her all the more.

Shadow shook his head, and simply said. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't wake you without touching you." he grunted in pain, then continued. "You were having a nightmare."

Manah said nothing, and stared at him in shock as she approached him on all fours.

"What is it? Look, I wasn't going to hurt you."

Her expression of fear then blended with fascination, and she got closer to Shadow. Too close, some would say. "...Are you alright?"

"I'll be fine. You've got quite a biotic kick, but my suit absorbed most of the shock. Why didn't you use it against the Templars?"

"I couldn't... I..." Manah began to touch Shadow's neck tentatively with her finger, and when he failed to react as expected she began touching his helm with both her hands, then his chest, than his shoulders, then his chest again...

"Err... look, I know you've been through a lot, but-"

"You're fine... I can touch you..." Manah was utterly fascinated, then became overjoyed. "I can touch you! What are you, exactly? How is this possible?"

Shadow grabbed her hands - gently, and pushed her away. "What are you going on about?"

"I'm..." she wanted to explain, but the Geis wouldn't let her, and pain danced across her forehead to remind her to keep her silence. Even here, on this alien world, she could not escape the Justicar's lash. "I... I can't talk about it."

"...Fine. Suit yourself. At least we're over this no-touching thing."

Manah remembered her nightmare, and she shot up in horror. "My mother! She scryed into me as I slept! She knows where we are!"

"_Scryed_ you? What does that even mean? Look, you just had a bad dr-"

Manah pulled Shadow by the hand. "We have to hurry away from here! My mother is no doubt alerting her Thralls as we speak!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>On the bridge of the Ascalon, Benezia's bodyguards tried to restrain her as she held on to her skull, screaming in agony. The Matriarch's Biotics flared with unparalleled intensity, and many of the Huntresses found themselves hurled at the speed of sound against the vessel's walls. They tried weighing her down with their biotics, or putting her in stasis - <em>nothing worked.<em>

Benezia had lost control of the Masque, Her body shook, and the ship rumbled in response. Shearing biotic fields percolated around her, igniting the air, and Benezia became as a star, terrible in its fury.

And then, she was still, and all that was left was a deep hunger that only madness could sate.

"Take me to my shuttle," said Benezia.

The surviving Huntresses obeyed, but little did they know that the fury of the Black Queen had been unleashed.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Manah spent hours navigating the labyrinthine sewers of Syneu before finally reaching the mouth of a dried-up sewage pipe that lead to the outskirts of the city. The sunlight shone brightly throught it, and Manah shielded her sensitive eyes, blinded.<p>

"I... I can't see. It's too bright!"

Adam silently took her hand and led her as she covered her eyes, leading her from the frightening dark and into the harsh light of day. As they stepped out into the open air, it took a while for Jensen's helmet's optics to adjust as the sunlight overwhelmed them, and when the brightness subsided Jensen saw-

_A plain of ash and fire._

-the surface of Caleston, unmarred by roads and shanties and skyscrapers. The ground was made of red rock covered in dark gray volcanic ash, and in the distance mountain bled lava. It had been that way for a long time, but not always, no...

"There was once a city here," said Manah. "a-"

Adam interrupted her, his voice echoing as if two men were speaking at once one with an even tone, the other filled with sorrow: "-a forest of tall spires and immense ziggurats made out of stone remolded by will, rivers of obsidian served at its roads. Millions of disciples lived here to be taught the ways of fire and metal, from the blade to the gun, from the most primitive crafts to the lesser mysteries of Molecular Control. Furnaces and kilns burned day and night, fed by the flaming heart of Vulcanus - the true name of this world. Nazara came here first, glassed the surface, then broke the earth... but he failed to destroy the Undercity, where the Warrior's Grimoire is kept..."

"Yes... How did you know all that? I haven't even begun to put my findings down on digital paper yet!"

Jensen shook his head, as if waking from a dream. "I'm sorry, I must have zoned out for a second. What did you say?"

"You described what was on the murals of the Undercity as if you saw them! And then you went on about the Grimoire! How do you know _any_ of this?"

"...I didn't say anything. You must have imagined it."

"Now wait just a min-"

"We should try and and meet up with my employer's men: They'll have a ship that can get us out of here."

Manah was nonplussed at first, then pouted, thinking that she had just been toyed with. "Fine. Lead the way."

Jensen checked his 3d automap, "We're on the west side of town, and- ah, hold on."

A red rectangle with the word CALL written on it blinked in an out of view in front of Jensen's eyes: someone was trying to contact him. Apparently, the Snowblind particles that peppered his suit had lost enough of their charge to stop interfering with his comms package. He accepted the call, and the face of Edward Grey appeared in a blue video window in his AR HUD.

_"What part of 'Covert Operation' did you not understand, Jensen?!" _screamed Grey. _"there's close to a thousand Templars combing that Favella you landed in!"_

_"...Would you believe me if I said it was an accident?" _replied Jensen sub-vocally.

_"Oh, so you fought two Seraphs, one Wanzer, and four soldiers by 'accident', is that what you're telling me?"_

_"Yes, that's it exactly. Oh, and uh, T'soni's safe by the way."_

_"I know. Jane just succeeded in tapping into the Templar's comms chatter, no thanks to you. Everyone, including the rent-__a-cops, are on the lookout for a tall man in dark armor and a pale Asari in a red cloak. The fact that T'soni is in your __custody is one reason why I haven't left you here to rot!"_

_"Get Neil to extract us, we're in the outskirts of the city, no one will be the wiser and we call this mission a success."_

_"Here's reason number two: Your little stunt? It made the Templars go into full lockdown: No ships without a Templar IFF are allowed to take off. The Copperhead's grounded."_

_"So what's the plan?"_

_"I've revised the parameters of the mission: Your part in it for now is simply to get T'soni here..." a cursor designating an objective appeared on the Automap. "...in this parking garage past Westside. Look for a silver cargo truck with the word "Spookies" painted on the side of the trailer, we'll be in it. Challenge is Thunder, response is Flash. Stay. Undetected. If the Templars come our way chasing you they'll put two and two together and then our covers will be completely blown."_

_"And Hein? What does he have to say about this."_

_"Hein went into radio silence a while ago to minimize the chances of being detected. He'll break it when he sees fit, and until then I'm in command of this mission. Any other questions?"_

_"No. I should be able to get past Westside on foot in two hours if I stick to the back streets."_

_"You do that. Grey out."_

Jensen dismissed the AR HUD and turned to Manah. "T'soni?"

"Hm?"

"We can't stay here in the open: We've got to go through Westside at a meeting point downtown."

"W-Westside?... Isn't that where the hooligans live?"

"Don't worry. A bunch of teenage punks don't scare me. What's the worst they can do?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"THROUGH CYRUS THE QUEEN HAS SPOKEN!" screamed one of the punks as he biotically propelled a molotov into a nearby shop. One of his friends fired a burst of his Punisher SMG into a fleeing couple, laughing. "THE TEMPLARS HAVE BROKEN THE TRUCE! BURN THE HOUSES, LOOT EVERYTHING... AND!<strong> FUCK! EVERYOOOONE! IT'S ALL OURS NOW! OURS TO DO AS WE PLEASE!<strong>"

"Me and my big mouth." Jensen bitterly muttered under his breath as he overheard the commotion.

"Did you say something?" asked Manah.

"No, never mind. Keep your head down and covered, okay?"

"Yes... a-alright." Manah was trying not to pay attention to the madness around her, and Jensen could empathize. In any other situation Jensen would have done something about a maniac shooting up innocents, but drawing attention to himself, and therefore T'soni, was not a good idea. At five foot three and ninety-five pounds, she wasn't going to last in a firefight. Adam had asked her if she could form a Barrier, but she replied that she was not allowed to learn that ability.

_"I can push and pull," _she had said_. "But I can't do anything more complex than that...I-I'm sorry."_

He and T'soni had been walking through Westside's backstreets for close to an hour now, not counting the time they had snuck in a clothing store and altered their appearance a bit. Manah was now wearing a dark blue shawl, having discarded her red short cloak. Jensen managed to find a hooded tan trench coat, but even as he maxed out the size settings he still couldn't close it all the way on account of the extra bulk of the 108. Manah had been aghast that they had basically robbed a store, and Jensen had left some platinum on the counter to appease her a little. They both still reeked of sewer, though.

As they crossed a street, they saw a middle aged man getting mugged by a couple of boys, maybe sixteen years old, with feathery colored hairstyles, mascara and dressed up in outfits that were mostly composed of belts. One of them, with the white hair had a knife, the other green-haired young thug had a machine pistol.

"That poor man..." whispered Manah, worried.

"...He'll be fine as long as he does the smart thing and gives up his valuables."

"A GOLD WATCH?!" screamed the white haired punk. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with worthless gold?!" He shoved the man on the ground, then lifted him up - biotically - and slammed him back down.

"Please, it's all I have..." whimpered the poor man.

"You have nothing! It all belongs to US!"

_This is none of your business. _

The punk slammed his victim down again, laughing.

"Do something! Please! He's going to kill him!..." begged Manah.

_Keep your head down. Sensor reads 12 more armed contacts in the vicinity. Don't stir up the hornet's nest._

The white haired punk kicked his victim once, twice, then thrice, and then got bored. The green-haired one waved his gun at Jensen, acting tough.

"Hey what's your problem? Huh, tough guy? That's right, keep walking! Fuck you! You don't want to mess with the _Freaks!_"

_Keep walking, keep T'soni out of trouble. Keep her safe._

And then the white haired punk saw T'soni. "Why, hello there, little girl..." he leered at her. "Little girl come here! I'm gonna show you a good time!"

"Ignore him, keep walking." murmured Jensen. Unfortunately, the two 'Freaks' smelled a prize, and they wouldn't let it go. They started harassing the pair, making catcalls at T'soni and throwing insults at Jensen, mostly to do with the stink of sewers that emanated from him. Green-hair whistled loudly, and before long three other Freaks dropped - no, floated - down from their perches and surrounded the cyborg and the Asari. Jensen tried to keep walking, but White-Hair shoved him with a telekinetic push.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!"

Jensen could feel Manah hide behind him. "Leave us alone." he said. "We're not looking for any trouble."

"Yeah? Well trouble just found you! You know who I am?"

"No."

"Name's Slash, and that means trouble."

Behind his faceplate, Jensen couldn't help but roll his eyes. "...You don't say."

"You're in Freak territory. You know who the Freaks are?"

Jensen looked around. Every single one of them had clothes covered in zippers and way, way too many belts. "Snazzy dressers, apparently."

"That's right, and besides that, our blood is rich in Eezo..." Slash's biotics flared. "All of us, we practically live on the Sand, and that means we're way, WAY more dangerous than you and your fancy armor."

"Uh-huh." Jensen was not impressed.

"You gotta pay a toll. It's either cash..." he leered at T'soni. "Or livestock. And I'm leaning towards the livestock. Girl's pretty... What's she doing with an old fart like you?"

"Mister Shadow?" Manah whimpered. Jensen could feel movement on his left, Green-hair (or whatever stupid name he went by) had put a gun to Adam's head.

He could hurt all of them. He could kill all of them in a heartbeat: it would be so easy, but Jensen didn't feel right about putting teenagers in the hospital, much less the morgue. They were obviously a cruel bunch of junkie teens, but they were just kids, in the end. If they kept pushing, though...

"Not gonna happen. Go Away."

"Yeah? Well, I wasn't asking! You! Take her!"

One of the punks made a go for T'soni, and Jensen quickly reacted by slapping the gun to his head away. It went off, straight into Slash's knee, who went down screaming like a little girl. Red Sand was a lot of things, but not a painkiller. It certainly didn't do Green-hair any good when his arm was broken in half from the force of Jensen's slap.

T'soni, for her part, was quick to Throw one of her attackers away into a nearby garbage can, but a blue haired Freak grabbed her from behind while his comrade tried to Warp Jensen. Manah screamed in agony while the Freak seemed to shudder with intense delight. Jensen dodged the Warp bolt and threw the green-haired Freak at his attacker, knocking them both out. As for the one grabbing T'soni, he took out his stunner and jabbed it into the thug's neck, and pressed the trigger, triggering a small concussion wave at the tip of the device.

Nothing.

Jensen pressed the trigger again, and the blue-haired punk was still conscious, ecstatic, and not letting go. Manah screamed harder.

"Let her go, damn you!" Jensen had no choice to but to break the thug's arms and wrestle him away from T'soni, who stumbled away, shivering. Even with his arms broken, the Freak still tried to grab the Asari, completely oblivious to his ruined arms, so Jensen kicked him in the knees, breaking his legs and neutralizing him completely as a threat. Even with his limbs broken, he wouldn't stop smiling.

Jensen checked up, and put a hand on her shoulder. "T'soni, what happened?! Did he do something to you?"

Manah breathed hard, and Jensen scanned for her heartbeat: It was going at 160 beats per minute, and slowly coming down. The readout also showed she had more than four times the average element zero content in her nervous system than an Asari her size should have. Her body temperature was, incredibly, 41 degrees Celsius...

"You're burning up..."

"I'm fine, I-I just run hot." she swallowed hard, and took a deep breath. "As for him... He... he touched me." she answered. "He shouldn't have touched me."

Jensen looked at the Freak's insanely euphoric state, and Manah's own pained expression, and it wasn't all that hard to make a guess. "...You have some kind of condition, don't you? Something that messes with the nervous system of anyone that touches you."

She looked at Jensen, her eyes fearful, then relieved. She nodded. "I can't talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I simply cannot, alright?!" she snapped. "I'm not allowed! The Just- _argh_!"

A glowing symbol appeared on Manah's forehead, in a script that Jensen's translator couldn't figure out. She winced, as if the symbol was burning through her forehead.

"I can't even speak of why I can't talk about it!"

"You've been psycho-conditioned not to," Jensen deduced, "by these 'Justicars', because they wanted to keep you under control."

Manah nodded. "Well, at least you can make some good guesses..." she looked around at the fallen gang members. "Are they?..."

"They'll live. They'll be in incredible pain, but they'll live."

"Good."

"Come on, we have to get out of here. Are you good to walk, or do you need me to carry you?"

"No! No, I can walk..."

Manah and Adam left the scene, leaving five broken wrecks behind them. Little did they know that Caim was not 30 minutes behind them on foot. When he came across the crippled gangsters, they were defiant, their hearts filled with hate, and they proved less than cooperative, throwing insults at him. Slash even spat in his face.

Caim had no problems with killing teenagers.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: This chapter was originally going to be 14000 words long, but the tone was getting all over the place and I decided to split it in two. The next chapter should come along shortly, once I do some re-writing.<br>**_

_**Thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the spell check.  
><strong>_


	25. 22: The Masque of the Black Queen part 3

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**_

_**Chapter 22: The Masque of the Black Queen Part III**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early Author's Casting Notes: <strong>_

_**Fawkes 'Spooky' Moody is voiced by David Duchovny**_

_**Manuel "Lunchbox" Melligen is voiced by Matthew Lillard**_

_**The Black Queen is voiced by Marina Sirtis and Mary-Elizabeth McGlynn**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside the <em>Spookies'<em> mobile HQ, a semi-trailer truck modified for some extensive electronic spy work, the Deep Eyes (sans Jane) sat in the somewhat cozy interior, cup ramen in hand. Mounted on the semi-trailer's walls were a multitude of flat displays, configured haphazardly, interconnected by a spiderweb of wires. Computer boxes were mounted on racks, powered by a two gallon OVO can. The floor space had a few desks with various pieces of electronics and tools strewn about on them. On the left wall was a whiteboard with mugshots on it, detailing some kind of relationship map between various pillars of the community (including the Templars), and at the center of that web was the word BLACK QUEEN written in marker.

Grey, who had been waiting impatiently for Jane and Jensen to report back, desperately needed something to distract himself besides nursing a cup of instant ramen, and approached the leader of the Spookies, a travelling group of hackers. They had apparently lost most of their members to Templar oppression, and right now the group was really just a pair: Fawkes 'Spooky' Moody and Manuel "Lunchbox" Melligen.

Moody sat at his desk, typing and moving a haptic interface around. He was a white dark-haired male in his early forties dressed in a sand-colored business suit with a loose black tie. He noticed Grey approaching and nodded at him.

"Mister Wolf," greeted Moody using Grey's callsign. "Something I can do for ya? You look like you got some questions on your mind."

"I've been hearing a lot about this Black Queen around here..."

"And you're wondering who or what she is?"

"I'm more interested in how she took control of Caleston."

"The who: Matriarch Benezia T'soni. The what: Some Asari bigwig that's Saren's second in command. As for the how, well, we've been scratching our heads as to the how for quite some time now, but thanks to your sneaky friend planting those bugs in the comm relay, we've had a free run of the Templars' email correspondence for a while, and Lunchbox has a theory. Lunch? You wanna stop eating that fake steak and explain it to the man?"

Manuel Melligen, a lean, young filipino with the sides of his head shaved bald save for a fountain of dreadlocks that sprang from its top, was eating and typing at the same time at his own desk, apparently doing his best to ignore Grey. Moody was having none of it, and threw an empty can of soda at Manuel's head.

"Ow!"

"Lunch, it's your theory, you fucking explain it!"

"Hey, I don't have to tell anything to a bunch of fascist pigs!"

"Those fascist pigs saved our sorry asses from getting shot in the back of the head execution style by a bunch of religious fascist pigs, so show some gratitude and enlighten them, will ya?!"

"Fine. Here it is: I think Benezia infected Caleston's society with a Memetic Worm."

Grey just stared at him, confused. "I'm sorry, a what?"

"Yeah, look, I know it sounds crazy, but listen: At first we thought Benezia was emitting some kind of psychic brainwashing wave, but she had been here for days - We weren't brainwashed, you guys weren't brainwashed-" he snickered. "-At least not by her, anyways, and we weren't making any progress as to what was going on until this Spirit chick hijacked the comms relay-"

"-You're welcome, by the way."

"Tch! Yeah, I guess we owe you for that, too. Anyways, we've been looking at the Templars' correspondence, and every single Knight Major in the Ascalon's battalion were going double-you-tee-eff and asking where Bafford was and who was that bitch giving them orders. Then they meet up with this Benezia chick and their mails are like ALL HAIL THE QUEEN. Then the Major's platoon leaders go what the shit is wrong with them, right? And THEY meet up with their Majors, drink the Kool-Aid, and the soldiers under their command drink it too."

"That... sort of explains the Templars... what about the cops?"

"Same deal! Benezia made a of tour Caleston and met with the leader of every major organization on the planet: The po-pos, the firemen, The gangs of Westside... she even met with Director Atkins of RedWater, and before long they started obeying the Queen too! The whole pattern fits that of a worm, only it spreads socially, not digitally, like a meme. Hence, Memetic Worm."

Grey, naturally, was skeptical at this explanation. "Alright, assuming I believe this, what's the method of infection? Hypnosis? Brainwashing?"

Manuel shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, dude. Maybe she found a way to hack souls?"

Someone knocked on the door, built into the truck's neck, and Grey walked up to it with his pistol drawn.

"Thunder." he challenged.

"Flash." replied Jensen on the other side. "It's me, Shadow. Open up, Wolf."

The door hissed open, and Grey saw Jensen, his armor covered in dust and a sand colored trenchcoat, and his boots slightly caked in dried sewage. Manah seemed to be hiding shyly behind him, making herself as small as possible. Grey stepped out of the vehicle to greet her.

"Ms. T'soni? Mr. Wolf. I wish we could have met under better circumstances..." he holstered his pistol and held out his hand at her for a handshake, but she recoiled in fear. Grey was a bit confused at that reaction. Was he really that intimidating? "Was it something I said?"

"She has a condition," said Jensen. "She can't touch anyone, or they go...well, crazy."

"...She's touching you. Right now."

"I'm immune, apparently. But some thug in Westside tried to grab her, and... well, things got a little complicated. Look, just don't touch her, alright?"

"...Well, then." Grey simply saluted at T'soni. Manah, in turn took a slight bow, eyes closed in humility and politeness, and introduced herself.

"G-greetings. My name is Manah T'soni." Grey had to admit, despite her deferent tone, her voice had a sweetness to it that he found... enchanting.

"Ahem! Well, come on in." beckoned Grey as he climbed back aboard.

Jensen motioned T'soni to stay where she was and peeked into the truck. He appraised the interior for a moment, then: "It's a bit cozy in there."

Grey understood what he meant: "Everyone? Manah T'soni has some kind of condition: touching her is a big no-no, understood?" Neil and Ryan nodded, as did the Spookies, and Adam and Manah entered the mobile hacker's den.

"Whew! Someone's been taking a swim in shit!" exclaimed Manuel. "Name's Lunchbox, and this here is Spooky. Pleasure to meetcha, Mister Shadow dude!"

Spooky, in possession of a bit more tact, took out a can of chemical cleanser and threw it at the armored cyborg, who caught it effortlessly. "Here, spray this on the stinky bits. It'll clean the dirt right off. I'd offer you showers, but there's only so much water on Caleston to go around..."

A few minutes later, Jensen and T'soni were a bit cleaner and far less smelly, and Grey introduced them to everyone else in the truck. He then briefed them on the situation.

"Simply put, we're stuck here. Our transport out of the planet is grounded, Hein is silent, and Spirit is still out there in hostile territory while Mister Blue is stuck in the Alienage. Our first order of business is to ensure that we can escape the planet when we need to. That means taking back the Copperhead, but..."

"Without the right IFF codes, the Templars will be on to us in seconds." said Neil. "They've got control of the colony's GARDIAN lasers on the ground and in orbit."

"Lucky for you guys, I can help with that." said Spooky as he lit a cigarette. Manah coughed, and he put it out immediately. "There's a Cherubim Gunship stuck on the helipad of the RedWater building. The templar gearheads are trying to fix one of its engines, but its IFF pulse beacon should be intact. Just pull it out, and I'll be able to work my magic on it. Plug it in your Copperhead and unless you start shooting at Templars you should look like any other of their birds on radar."

"I'll assign Jane to the task," said Grey. "As for our secondary objective, the capture of the Prothean Monolith's central component... T'soni, can you provide any assistance in infiltrating the ruins?"

"You... you want to take it?"

"Of course, unless you'd rather we leave it at the hands of the Templars or Saren..."

"No... no of course not... Well, the Undercity is vast, more than three times the size of Syneu itself. If you want to access it, all you'd need to do is go straight down from anywhere in the city and you should reach the ruins. The only way I know of was the main shaft RedWater had dug for their new thermoelectric plant."

Grey nodded. "Seeing as we don't have an excavator drill, I guess we're going to have to go through the main shaft."

"The Templars will no doubt have the place guarded," said Ryan.

"Wait wait wait!" Manuel brought up a hologram of Syneu from his Omni-Tool. "Ladies and Gentlemen, RedWater's dirty little secret. They knew about the Prothean Undercity long before they found that monolith, since the founding of the city, in fact. They combed the place in the vain hope of finding working Prothean tech, but all they got was pieces of clay and metal for their efforts. Still, they moved a lot of samples through THESE elevators."

An incomplete map of the Prothean Undercity appeared under Syneu's hologram, and several small shafts connected the two.

"There's one in Westside, three Downtown, and the four in the eastern Red light district, now known as the Alienage."

Neil sighed. "Regardless of which we pick, we'll still have to march a long way: that relic is still some nine kilometers east of the edge of Syneu."

"It's up to you, sir." said Ryan. "Either we storm the gates, or we sneak in the back way."

"Or I sneak in through the front door," suggested Jensen.

Grey ignored him. "I'll think about it. In the meantime, Shadow? You're going to the Alienage and try and make contact with Mr. Blue: he hasn't reported in for a while, and he's not answering on his wireless."

"Has something happened to him?" asked Jensen, concerned.

"Don't know. That's what you're going to find out. Mister Moody? Get this truck as close to the Alienage as you can manage without drawing attention."

"Aye aye, cap'tain." replied Moody with a mock salute. "All this wireless activity without staying on the move was making me uneasy, anyways. We should make it there in about... an hour? Just in time for sundown."

Minutes later, the truck was on the move, and an awkward silence fell in the semi-trailer. Jensen thought he'd make some idle conversation with everyone. He thought he'd start with this Spooky fellow, and made his way to the tractor's passenger seat.

"Hey there." greeted Moody. "We'll be there soon enough, provided the traffic is favorable... which, as you can see, it kind of isn't," He chuckled sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

Jensen looked out of the polarized windshield, and the lane they were on was indeed packed. "Where are all these people going?" asked Jensen.

"Wherever the gangs of Westside aren't, and then some."

Three Vyzov Wanzers, bearing Templar colors, passed them in the other, emptier lane, skating at high speed.

"Of course," Moody continued, "now that the Templars just sent Wanzers into the place, the riot should be dying down."

"I'm curious, How many Templars are there in this city?"

"According to my snooping? About a thousand pairs of boots backed up by twenty five Wanzers."

"This is a city almost as big as Montreal, hard to believe that's enough to keep it under control."

"Yeah well, the Templars always were an arrogant bunch. Still, Wanzers and Power Armor can go a long way towards keeping a city under control, and the various Rent-a-cop agencies in charge of keeping the peace had the Templars' backs when they decided to take over. They kept order better than the police did, and that's great if you're a law-abiding citizen and all, but if you're a free-thinking ronin data samurai like me, well..." he lit up a cigarette, and breathed deep from it. "Well, you get a bullet to the brain, or worse. Templars love their secrets, and _hate_ snoopers."

"Why did the Templars come here?"

"About a month ago the Ascalon came here to resupply and do whatever it is Templars do for R and R. His ladyship Bafford got wind of a Prothean artifact and decided to park his ship in orbit in the hopes of learning more. Then the Asari came, and things got tense, and a week ago some poor kid gets murdered by that girl's bodyguards." he nodded in Manah's direction. "Miners saw it happen, and all hell broke loose, and the Templars saw an opportunity to take over. Corporate worlds don't have the same restrictions as government-funded colonies do, but they don't get the perks, either... so the Templars were free to do it."

"Was this city always on the brink?"

"Nah, as a matter of fact this was well on its way to becoming RedWater's answer to Noveria. Problem is the economy ran on Eezo mining, and then the Quarians came along and sold RedWater some cheap mining technology, and Caleston got saddled with a large unemployed population before they could put their 'rent volcano lairs' plan into motion. They had to cut back on their Terraforming project, which made things even worse."

"Eezo mining, huh? Is that why there are so many biotic kids in Westside?"

"Yep. When RedWater founded this place there wasn't much to do to pass the time between mining shifts besides drink and screw, and thanks to RedWater's typical corner cutting there was a lot of in utero exposure to go around. There's thousands of biotic kids in Westside, and the system failed them completely, thus you've got a hundred biotic gangs, each about thirty strong."

"Shit, the Templars are going to have their hands full."

"Not really. Those kids aren't trained, and Templars are stone cold killers. Hopefully they'll back down once the blood starts hitting the floor, but... I don't know, there's something wrong in the air, and I get the feelings things are going to get crazier before they get better."

"You seem to have a finger on the pulse of everything that's going on here. Been living here long?"

"Just three years, actually. Been working freelance electronics security, so naturally..."

"You've left backdoors in every system you worked on."

Moody grinned. "Yep."

"Is that how you got all this hardware?"

"Most of it. Me and the kids needed a place to work, share ideas and exploits, you know?"

"Kids?"

"Yeah... there were about seven of us, before. Caleston's got... _had_ this burgeoning sub-culture of extra-net hackers. Most of them were in it for the laughs, but I took notice of a bunch that were in it to uncover dirty corporate laundry. That tickled me a bit, so I decided to gather them all up in a proper group and teach them the ropes: Social engineering, hijacking comm systems, and so on."

"Seven? Where are the rest?"

Moody's voice went cold, and his friendly demeanor had faded completely. "Templars killed them."

"...I'm sorry."

"You feel bad? Do me a favor and kill a few Templars on your way into the Undercity. I know it'll make _me_ feel better."

Jensen wisely decided to leave Moody alone to his anger, and returned to the semi-trailer.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ryan finished double-checking his suit after giving the rest of the Deep Eyes' gear a once-over with his Omni-tool. When Jensen came back into the semi-trailer, he politely asked him if he could scan his suit for any damage.<p>

"Sure, go ahead." replied Jensen.

"Okay then, just hold still a moment... Hm, besides some superficial damage on the suit, it all checks out. The Fandango is a little messed up, though. Been blocking with the edge?"

"...Yeah?"

"You never block with the edge: it's a surefire way to get the blade messed up."

"Thanks for the tip."

"Power cells are at 65 percent... and your Omni-Gel tanks are at a hundred percent? Huh."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, no, but do you have something against using Omni-Tool apps?"

"I don't. It's just that I can solve most of my problems using my wits or my augs. I rarely need to spend the Omni-Gel."

"Well, you should start thinking about using your O-Tools more. Those things can be a real lifesaver. Trust me, I should know. That Omni-Armor feature alone should really increase your odds of survival the next time you enter close combat with Seraph wearers."

"I'll think about it."

"That's all I ask."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So this Benezia chick has got this mask..." said Manuel.<p>

"That amplifies an Asari's bonding ability, yes." replied Manah.

"Ha! I always knew you Asari had weirdo telepathic mind powers, dude! You have to! I mean, how do you manage to look attractive to like, every species in the galaxy otherwise? Hey, are you using your mind powers on me right now?" Manuel promptly put on a hat made out of tin foil, much to Manah's confusion, and adjusted his thick glasses. "Ha-ha! Now I shall see your true form!... Bummer, it's not working. You're _still_ gorgeous."

"Stop teasing her." said Shadow.

"Aw, she knows I don't mean nothin' by it, right? Anyways, this Mask thing totally confirms my Brain Worm theory!"

"...What do worms have to do with anything? My mother hates worms!"

"Nah, nah, see, the way she subverted the whole of Caleston looks just-"

"Hey!" interrupted Neil. "Mind turning up the volume on the speakers? There's some news on that monitor there, looks important."

"Right-O!" exclaimed Manuel as he typed a few keys.

"-_ report that the gang leader Cyrus had been personally killed mid-speech by Lord-Commander Caim, robbing the various gangs of Westside of centralized leadership. Templar forces are currently pacifying the area, and life in Westside is expected to return to normal by morning. In other news, communication with the various mining installations has ceased. It is probable that Foreman Parker has-_

Manuel threw a empty cup of ramen at the monitor. "Aw, this is bullshit! What about this Sir Caim Cocksucker torching the slums?! Cover that, you fucking handpuppet! Hey!" He shouted at the truck's tractor. "Spooky! They killed Cyrus, man!"

Spooky shouted back: "What?! Aw, damnit, now we're really going to see some shit! Cyrus was keeping all the gangs focused, but now violence is going to spill downtown, mark my words!"

Manah's eyes were downcast and sorrowful. "It's all my fault... I should have just surrendered to them and maybe none of this would have happened..."

"Nah." said Manuel, flatly.

"But..."

"The fires of revolution were gonna burn this place down sooner or later. After two decades of RedWater's fuck-ups - shit work conditions, shit wages, shit education, shit healthcare and Atkins and all the other motherfuckin' pencil pushers like him living it up downtown? There was plenty of fuel on the ground already, and those scary bitches in red just lit a match on it. Then the Templars come in and try to douse it with fucking _flamethrowers! _None, I repeat NONE of this shit is your fault. It's RedWater's fault. It's the Templars' fault. And if what you've told me is true, then Benezia gets an extra serving of her fault too."

"Listen to him," said Shadow. "Don't take responsibility for the woes of an entire world... It's not good for the soul, trust me."

"I-" Manah was on the verge of tears. "I keep going back to that moment, and wonder if I had done things differently, things would not have gone so wrong..."

"...I know exactly how you feel..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Shadow!" Moody called out. "We're here!"<p>

Jensen nodded at him, and got up, ready to exit the vehicle.

"You're leaving?" asked Manah, troubled by the thought of her protector being absent.

"I need to check up on my friend," he replied.

"...Oh. Um, don't be long, please?"

"Don't worry, I won't."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Night had fallen already on Syneu. Lampposts, multicolored OLED signs and the lights of skyscrapers were the only source of illumination, and Jensen had to admit, he preferred it that way. It was winter now, or what passed for winter on this mostly barren rock, and so the day night cycle favored the dark.<p>

Getting into what the Templars had named the Alienage was easy. Cloak, climb the rooftops, and bypass the security checkpoints the power armored soldiers had set up. Jensen noticed the presence of Hashmal support mechs; bipedal, armless unmanned mechs with legs built out of electroactive polymer muscles. Hein's briefing had been clear: Avoid.

...

_Their upper bodies are packed with weapons: you've got special munition launchers, machine guns, and to deal with heavy armor, well... you see that mask in the cowling, there? There's a plasma projector in the mouth. Defensively, they can erect a Kinetic Barrier bubble around themselves and an entire squad. Don't let the size fool you: those legs make them fast, and they can kick you into next Sunday._

_..._

Jensen's helmet beeped, and the CALL icon appeared again. It was a call from Moody: _"Hey there, welcome to the Red Light district, Shadow! Two square kilometers dedicated to sin, sin and more sin. Population: mostly aliens, now... although some humans decided to stick around."_

"Moody? How'd you get this frequency?!"

_"Err, Wolf gave it to me?"_

"Oh. Right."

_"Don't be so panaroid. It'd take me forever to crack that security of yours, and you'd see me coming a mile away... Who wrote those firewalls, by the by? I haven't seen security like this since... well, _ever._"_

"Ahem. You had something to tell me?"

_"Hm? Oh, right. Grey wanted me to point you in the right direction while you're in the Red Light district. I've uh... I've been here often. Heh heh. Anyways, you can stop skulking around. Templars don't patrol within the district."_

"You'd think they'd want to keep tabs on the non-humans."

_"No, they just want the aliens out of humanity's hair, not kill them... or so they say. They don't go out in the Terminus for shits and giggles... But, since Caleston is still technically in Council territory, they have to play nice with the aliens."_

And of course, segregation wasn't technically illegal in Council space, due to racial biological considerations. Jensen walked out into the streets, and indeed, it seemed life was proceeding as normal... Better than normal, in fact: everyone seemed to be celebrating, or on their way to more celebrations.

"Why did the Templars turn the Red light district into a Ghetto?"

_"Yeah, well, let's just say Templars frown on hedonism and merrymaking as much as they dislike alien influence, and figured they'd put both the Aliens and the 'filthy sinners' in the same spot. It's brilliant, actually: the best prison is the one you never want to leave, and the clubs and hotels here run 21/7. Food's crap, but hey, when you're eating a piece of protein off the sweaty, oily belly of a Drell dancer, who gives a shit, right?"_

"...Right. Any ideas where Mr. Blue might have gone?"

_"Grey tasked him with getting his hands on some explosives instead of looking for T'soni thanks to your heroics. The Templars wouldn't let your friends carry anything that could bust a tank, or blow up a building, so..."_

"...They had to go OSP."

_"And besides fucking, you can purchase just about anything in the District. It's got a healthy black market under the sheets, and I put Blue in contact with a Volus bartender I know. Here's the coordinates."_

An icon appeared on Jensen's minimap. The establishment in question, a strip joint called _Candi's, _was not even three hundred meters away. The walk there had been uneventful. Indeed, the Templars were nowhere to be seen, and everyone on the street seemed more interested in enjoying themselves than paying attention to a tall man in a power suit and a trenchcoat. Electronic music with a heavy Bass played everywhere, and everyone swayed or danced to it even as they walked. Turians and Salarians were solicitating Asari and human prostitutes, the prostitutes occasionally solicited Jensen. Junkies were snorting Zyme on the streets. A Volus emptied his vomit tank into a sewer grate, and it was as if Mardi Gras never ended in the Motels. Didn't these people know that their city was going to hell?

"Is it always this lively?"

_"...No. Holidays at midnight, sure, but-"_

"Oh! Jesus!"

A salarian fell over dead in front of Jensen, and try as he might he simply could not resuscitate the man. The green-skinned, almond-eyed alien looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in days, but judging from Jensen's scans his blood alcohol levels were through the roof.

"Poor bastard's been partying non-stop for _days._" Jensen looked around at the crowded street, at the passersby that didn't even give a glance to the corpse. They all looked so tired, yet possessed with a desire to keep on celebrating. If Garrus had been caught up in that feverish wave of hedonism, then Jensen needed to hurry.

Candi's bartender had initially been dismissive of Jensen, but a few platinum coins got him to open up. According to him, Garrus had kept his mind on the task and refused any drink or proposition that came his way. He had given him a tip that a small band of Drell mercs had stockpiled a bunch of mining explosives, intent on making cheap rockets and sell them to the Blood Pack. Seeing as they were stuck in the Alienage, the bartender suggested that Garrus try and buy some of it off of them.

"And where are the mercs located?" asked Jensen.

"Some old warehouse on 5th and Laddering street," answered the Volus bartender. "He went there eight hours ago. I hope he's alright. He had the _cutest_ mouth, like a kitty!"

And on that mildly disturbing note, Jensen made his way to the street corner.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the mercs' underground lair, Garrus had taken a page out of Jensen's playbook and hid in the shadows, stalking the mercs one by one, patiently waiting in the dark for a chance to strike them down with his Stunner. There had been twelve of them, and they were all very alert.<p>

At least, at first. After the chemist had given everyone the all-clear, the Drell mercs started drinking heavily, and after a while Garrus had given up on being stealthy and just walked up to each merc and stunned them. His patience had paid off, though not quite in the way he had expected. Oh well, he'd be sure to embellish that part of the story.

The chemist was the last to go, and he had just finished remixing the explosives in a more potent form and stabilized the stuff in a gel solution. Garrus had to finish packaging them in pipes, a careful process that took a couple of hours. He had tried to contact Grey, but at fifty meters underground, and with the walls lined with lead, no signal could get through.

His work done, Garrus put six explosive charges in a satchel case and proceeded to make his way back to the surface.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Just as Jensen was about to enter the warehouse, the door opened, and out came Vakarian, carrying a satchel.<p>

"Whoa!" Vakarian drew his _Mongoose_ at Jensen, but lowered it when he realized who he was aiming at. "Hey there, Jensen. Almost didn't recognize you in that getup. What are you doing here?"

"You didn't report, so Grey sent me to check up on you."

"Ah, yeah, sorry about that, but I kinda had to go underground to get these and couldn't receive any calls."

"Are those the explosives? How did you pay for these?"

"I didn't. I snuck in, knocked everyone out, then took their stuff."

Jensen shook his head and sighed. "Can't exactly judge: I used to do the same thing back in the old days before I was put on ice. Good work."

"Thanks... hey, is it just me or is everyone still celebrating?"

"It's not just you: They're going at it pretty hard."

"Spirits! They've been at it since the Templars put me in here!"

Jensen contacted Grey to give him an update on the mission.

_"Wolf here. What have you got for me, Shadow?"_

"Mr. Blue's fine: he secured some explosives but he wasn't able to report on account of interference."

_"Good, at least we'll be able to destroy the artifact should it come to it. Come on back to- wait, hold on..."_

Half a minute passed before Grey spoke again.

_"Shadow, Spirit just reported back. She got her hands on the IFF, but much like Mr. Blue she was forced into radio silence. She had to evade Templar patrols and she hid somewhere in the Alienage. Go to these coordinates, and get her out of trouble if she is in any. Hurry up, Moody tells me two fire teams of Templars are after her."_

"Roger that." Jensen relayed the orders to Vakarian, who sighed with mock tiredness.

"Do this, do that," he complained jokingly. "Is it just me, or does Grey expect us to do all the hard work?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jane darted out of her seat and plunged her knife into the Templars' heart, and traded places with him in one smooth, swift motion. The heat of the blade cauterized the wound quickly, preventing any loss of blood, and she positioned him like a passed out drunk. Seeing as every soul in this nightclub was blitzed out of his brains, she really didn't have to bother, but it wasn't in her nature to be sloppy, which was why she shoved her heat knife into his hard-suit's data storage chip. There was only one left, trying to find her on the dance floor.<p>

She found him first, and stuck a blade in his spine as she covered his mouth with her hand.

Content that her pursuers were now dead, she was free to leave through the fire exit and make her way out of this weird joint. She had gotten more than her fill of strange in the RedWater tower...

She opened the door, and waiting for her was a Crusader, flanked by two knights.

Before she could react, a beam of purple light passed through all three Templars at the neck, and they fell dead.

"Wow, Jensen..." said the familiar flanging voice of Garrus Vakarian. "You get me all the best toys, I think I might learn to like DEWs like this." Jane turned to see the Turian cop casually swagger her way wielding one of those new Templar Anti-Materiel guns, with Jensen at his side. She barely acknowledged them as she knelt down and shoved a blade into the back of the fallen Templars' necks.

"I think they're as dead as dead can get, Proudfoot." commented Jensen.

"You can never be too sure. Besides, they saw me: need to destroy the data chips in their suits."

"Thorough," said Garrus.

"Very." replied Jane as she knocked her blade on the pavement, shaking the burnt blood away from the hot metal. The trio walked away from the three bodies, and they spoke as they strode.

"Are you okay?" asked Jensen.

"I'm not hurt, and I'm not tired. Thanks for asking. As for your next question: Yeah, I got the prize right here." she held up a heavy piece of electronic encased in metal. "One IFF pulse beacon, freshly cut out of a Cherubim's guts. What about you two? Have we crossed out the rest of our shopping list?"

"T'soni is safe, and Vakarian secured some high explosives."

"Nice to see the mission hasn't gone completely FUBAR. So, what's next?"

Jensen linked up his comm package to Vakarian and Jane's visors, and contacted Grey.

_"Grey here."_

"Shadow here, Spirit's okay. Request rendez-vous coordinates?"

_"We're moving the Spooky truck as close as possible to where you are. Just head 457 meters northeast for extraction. We'll plan our entry into the Prothean Undercity once you get back. And Spirit? Good work."_

"All in a day's work, sir." replied Jane.

_"Grey out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jane, Adam and Garrus walked towards the outskirts of the District, but the way there had quickly turned into an orgy of naked abandon. If the denizens of the Alienage seemed possessed by their desire for pleasure before, they had completely surrendered to it now. People were <em>fucking<em> each other on the street, not caring who was watching, and there were plenty of people eager to watch, then join in.

Jane winced at the sight. "I've had furloughs in Hong Kong more tame than this. Yeesh... Anyone else get a bad feeling from this place?"

"Yeah," replied Garrus. "I'm all for celebration but something just feels wrong here."

"And here I thought the RedWater Tower had been weird."

"Why, what happened in the tower?" asked Jensen.

"Well, there was almost nobody in there, for one thing. The few people that were present were fighting and killing each other over - get this - _office supplies_. Kept screaming that it was all theirs."

If Turians could whistle, Garrus certainly would have. "...Wow_._"

"Yeah? It gets weirder: I had to get Director Atkins' clearance to access the roof, and to do that I had to get in his office, which doubled as a penthouse suite. It was flooded with these ancient Prothean coins Atkins had apparently been collecting for years. He was buck naked, trying to swim in the piles. Of course, when he saw me he screamed like a madman, called me a dirty little thief, shouted something about some Black Queen wanting him to have all that lucre and fired a shotgun at me."

"I take it he regretted that?"

"Hey, fucker called me a thief!" she chuckled menacingly. "That reminds me, I pocketed a few of his coins, figured Hein would love to have a look at them. Wanna see?"

"When we're safe inside... what did Grey call it? The Spooky truck?"

"Yeah, not the most- HOLY SHIT!"

A trio of Asari that had ganged up on an orange Drell bared their teeth and began biting and tearing off huge chunks of his flesh. The man cackled in ecstasy, begging them not to stop even as his life's blood gushed out.

That was too much for Jensen to simply watch.

"Oh Spirits..." muttered Garrus in horror.

"Let him go! Let him go right **now!**" Jensen screamed, his stunner brandished. It took a few shocks (and a few punches courtesy of Jane) for each Asari to finally back down, and Vakarian pulled the Drell out of the fray. He applied some Medi-Gel, but it was too late: his heart rate was beating twice as fast as normal, and too much blood had been pumped out of his wounds. A silence came over the area -no, the entire district, and the trio found themselves almost surrounded by an entire crowd of people just **staring** at them...

"Uh oh." said Garrus. "Guys, I think we got their attention..."

"No shit!" hissed Jane under her breath, angrily.

"I noticed, thanks."

Every pair of eyes in the throng were transfixed on them, and they glowed dimly with light of purple and scarlet. They licked their lips, their expressions ravenous. They looked upon the trio as a meal, alien in their calm and filled with the promise of flavor and blood and _meat..._

For a moment Jensen was back in Elysium, when the black gas bombs had went off and everyone went _insane._

The men and women of the mob growled and leered and licked their lips, and approached the trio, intent in raping and eating them, not out of fury, but out of a pure desire to simply do so. The crowd charged at them, their hands grasping for flesh.

"Run like hell!" commanded Jensen. Jane and Garrus followed him through a gap in the crowd and into one of the Alienage's alleys, and pushed their legs to the limit. The crowd was starting to catch up to them, though, and while Jensen could evade them easily he refused to abandon neither Garrus or even Jane. Another crowd formed at the other end of the alley: the three of them were trapped.

"Fire exit!" shouted Jane, pointing at a metallic, skeletal stairwell. Its ladder had been destroyed, either through vandalism or misrepair, but Jane had no problem making a walljump for it and catching onto it with her tomahawk. Jensen helped Garrus up, as the Turian's heavy armor prevented him from matching Jane's acrobatics. Jane helped lift him onto the stairwell.

"Goddamn, you're heavy, kittybird!"

"I know! I should really consider dieting!"

The horde was getting closer...

"Jensen, get up here, now!" Garrus held out his hand. As Jensen leapt up to grab it, three biotic bolts of kinetic energy slammed into him at once and threw him into the arms of the waiting mob. They descended upon him like a pack of rabid dogs, and clawed at his armor, tearing his coat away.

The ripping sounds sent Garrus in a panic: "Spirits, no! Jensen? JENSEN?!"

Jensen shoved back, and six men and women were thrown off of him like rag dolls. He managed to get back on his feet and swim through the sea of bodies arrayed against him. They were focused on him now, and realizing this, he shouted:

"You two get the hell out of here! I'll distract them, and rejoin you later!"

"Are you crazy?!" screamed Garrus. "Jensen, this is no time to be a hero!"

"I don't intend to die here! I've survived much worse, trust me, now GO!"

Garrus was about to join his friend down there, not really thinking about how he could possibly help, before Jane stopped him. "Vakarian! We have to get out of here!"

"I'm not leaving him behind!"

"We're not! He's got a super-powered suit, he can take care of himself! But if WE stay here, we're going to get ourselves eaten! Now come on!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen ran through the open streets, letting himself be seen. A mad Krogan tried to stop him by charging into him, but that only made him vulnerable to Jensen's throws, and the large lizard found himself propelled into a porn store. More pursuers spilled from the buildings and into the streets, and before long Jensen found himself surrounded. He quickly took note of possible avenues of escape, most of them vertical, and prepared to use them once the mob was sufficiently distracted from Jane and Garrus.<p>

Then, the mob stopped, and its people spoke in unison, with a woman's voice, deep and calm:

_**"YOU. You are the one that took my daughter away from me."**_

Jensen realized quickly who really was speaking to him. "Matriarch Benezia, I presume."

_**"Yes... and yet, no. Benezia and I form a whole you cannot begin to comprehend, an entity both old and new. I am a being forged of fire, spirit and breath, born in a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension... I am the Black Queen."**_

Seven Asari stepped forward from the crowd, and held their hands forward.

_**"Kneel."**_

Gravity pushed down Jensen, and it was getting harder and harder for him to stay upright. While the 108's CNT muscle fibers kept Jensen standing, his organs started to feel heavy, and he doubled over in pain, grunting. He was caught, but he did not kneel.

_**"Where is Manah? My sweet little storm, I long to hold her in my arms, even as she longs to pull away from my embrace..."**_

"Go to hell!" grunted Jensen. His defiance earned him a biotic blast to the face, knocking down on the ground He struggled to get up, only for gravity to redouble its efforts into bringing him low.

_**"Come now, there is no need to be unkind. I can be a pleasant master... I can grant you your heart's desire, all you have to do in return, is swear fealty to me, and become my servant."**_

"You have nothing that I want!"

_**"...Your soul burns bright with defiance, but I can sense tendrils of longing emanating from it... A field of wheat..."**_

"Shut up!"

_**"A house of stone on a hill..."**_

"I told you-"

* * *

><p><em>Adam let his hand caress the golden wheat, enjoying the texture. He had worked so hard, but now it was time for harvest, and he looked forward to finally stop his mercenary ways. He looked at his calloused hands, and smiled: the surgery, while it had robbed him of his incredible strength, had given him something back, something he had missed. That feeling of blood rushing through the veins of his fingers, the sensation of a woman's skin on his fingertips. Yes, he had missed this.<em>

_He climbed atop a hill overlooking his land, illuminated by the sunshine. A hundred yards away was his house, given to him and Fahl as thanks for their sacrifices. He shielded his eyes from the bright sunlight, and he could make out Fahl in the distance, applying a bandage on Sunny. Poor thing scratched her knee running around the house... Soon it would be time for dinner, and it was Jensen's turn to cook._

_Yes, for the first time in his life, Jensen felt... happy, and fulfilled._

**This is not real**

_The thought echoed in the back of Jensen's mind. It wasn't his own, but he knew it spoke the truth._

_An oily shadow in the shape of a woman, wearing a dark, metallic mask appeared at Adam's side, and it whispered in his ear, in a voice both seductive and motherly at once._

_**"No, it isn't real... and soon you will wake, and face the bitter reality of their deaths as my minions tear you apart. But I can grant you this dream forever. Your mind will sleep, but your body will serve me. All you have to do... is submit."  
><strong>_

_"No... I, I musn't..."_

_**"What has defiance brought you but pain? What has defiance brought you but loss? Is submission not preferable, when one is offered an eternity of paradise? Is it not preferable, when you have so much to gain? Let your story end in blissful illusion, my Adam..."**_

_"Fahl and I... we earned this, we earned this moment..."_

_**"Yesss... You deserve this, you've earned all of this...  
><strong>_

_"I... I'm just so tired..." _

__**"I know... Rest... rest..."**__

_"I... No."  
><em>

_**"What?"**  
><em>

_"I said NO!"_

_The blue sky shattered in a million pieces, revealing a sky covered in thunderclouds. The ground shook, and the land was set ablaze by bolts of lightning. Yes, defiance had brought Jensen so much loss, but if he had laid down and died like an animal on Elysium, then he would have never had the moment of joy that Benezia was imitating before his eyes. Thousands would have died if he had not resisted the madness then... and he felt as though untold billions more would perish if he did not resist now.  
><em>

_**"How?! How can your resist me?!"**_

_"Get. Out..."_

* * *

><p>"...OF MY HEAD!"<p>

The Element Zero nodes in the 108 suit surged with a negative current, and a burst of mass lightening dark energy pulsed outwards, freeing him from the mass altering field that weighed him down. Jensen roared as he raised his fist, and the seven Asari that served as biotic proxies for Benezia were lifted up, helplessly flailing into the air. He glowed briefly a yellow green light, and swatted them away like flies into a nearby building. His rage subsided, and he breathed hard as flames of dark energy faded away from his armor.

As the horde was about to descend on him, insane with lust, canisters of tear gas rained down exploded all around, and Hashmal support mechs leapt and landed on the streets and the rooftops, spraying rapid-fire concussion rounds into the sea of bodies. Jensen cloaked, and took advantage of the chaos to get away.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Moody was just reading a Galactic Electronics article on advanced security systems when he heard the rumbling of footsteps in the distance.<p>

"Guys?" he called out to his passengers. You hear that?"

Grey stepped out of the vehicle to see, and he started hearing gunfire. Hashmal support mechs strode and leapt into the Alienage.

"Oh, no..." he muttered. as he tapped the side of his helmet, activating his comm unit. "Spirit? Spirit are you there?"

_"We're still alive, sir, but we-"_ she gasped, and breathing hard. _"We stirred up one fucked up hornet's nest! We're a hundred meters away and we're coming with company! I hope your truck's engine's warm!"_

"Moody! Switch the engine on, now! Spirit! Are you being pursued by Templars?"

The rumble of a thousand footfalls approached, and Grey could make out Vakarian and Jane coming around a corner like bats out of hell... And behind them was a swarm of crazed civilians, mostly alien, their eyes glowing with an evil light colored purple and scarlet.

_"No sir, hostiles are most definitely not Templars, sir!"_

"What the flying motherfucking fuck?!" shouted Moody.

Grey's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, Jesus! Get in the truck, now! Move it, move it!"

The duo went into full sprint and reached the vehicle with the stampede just twenty seconds away from reaching the truck. Grey hurried them in, and ordered Moody to hit the accelerator pedal as he climbed back into the truck.

"Wait!... gasped Vakarian as the truck sped away "My partner! He's still out there!"

The tide of bodies was ten seconds away from reaching the truck, but just then a dark figure burst through the bodies and sped past them like a bullet train. It was Jensen.

_"Keep moving!"_ he signaled Grey. _"I can catch up!"_

Jensen ran beside the silver vehicle and caught up to the door, and Grey reached out to take his hand, bringing Adam into the safety of the truck. Some of the faster aliens slammed into the side of the truck as it sped away, and Grey took one last glance at the rampaging mob before closing the door. The glow in their eyes faded, and whatever it was that allowed them to keep up with a speeding truck was gone. They had fallen on their knees, in pain, no doubt realizing how hard they had pushed their bodies.

Inside the semi-trailer turned hacker den, Jane and Garrus fell on their posteriors, exhausted. Vakarian's breath was the most ragged, since he was the one that had to jump from rooftop to rooftop and sprint while wearing makeshift heavy armor and carrying packs of explosives.

"Now, could any one of you explain to me what the hell just happened?!" commanded Grey.

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Author's notes: thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the proofreading.  
><strong>_


	26. 23: The Masque of the Black Queen part 4

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**_

_**Chapter 23: The Masque of the Black Queen Part IV**_

_**or**_

_**Heaven and Hell**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Goddamned lazy <em>pendejos!<em>" cursed Vega as he fixed the Mako II's suspension with just an Omni-tool. That low-orbit drop had not been kind to the machinery, and the ash kicked up by the wind had gummed up some of the works. Finding that Mining station on the way to the artifact site had been a blessing - or it should have been, if those damned miners could be bothered to get off their lazy asses. They were nowhere to be seen around the garage, but he had been told they were everywhere else on the station that didn't involve any physical work whatsoever.

Vega took time to admire his handiwork, and the Mako II itself: the design was basically the first Mako IFV, but with modifications based on user feedback straight from the field. It was roomier, had better traction, and had rear mounted micro-jets to give it that extra push needed to climb that steep cliff. If the Mako I had heart, then the Mako II had soul. Still, it had quirks of its own, and a shitty suspension was one of them. The filter-less intakes were another.

"Vega to Anderson?

_"Anderson here. Got something to report?"_

"The suspension's fixed and I'm about to spray the engine with some cleansing fluid to clean out the ash. Should be ready to go in half an hour."

_"Good work, Vega. We won't be long, just as soon as we figure out what happened to the miners."_

"They're not dead, just lazy, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"They'll be dead soon if we can't snap them out of this lethargy, Vega." said Anderson over the TAC-Com. He was with Jondum Bau in the Foreman Dobson's office, looking over an email correspondence between him and Foreman Parker, the leader of the miner's rights movement. Near as they could tell, Parker had decided to completely shut down the flow of raw Element Zero by going on strike. The contents of the last email read as such:<p>

_Redwater and the Temps don't want to deal? Fine. Tell everyone to STOP WORKING. The fat cats want their eezo? They can mine it their own damned selves until they give us what we want._

And Dobson and his men had taken the 'stop working' part quite seriously. Too seriously. Dobson was asleep at his desk, smelling of sweat, piss and shit, and no amount of prodding could wake him. The other miners and techs were in their quarters or in the rec room, either getting high on weed or just watching an huge playlist of vids on a shuffle loop. They were conscious, but attempts at communicating with them were met with disinterested mumbles. Taylor had tried using a stim on one, but it only succeeded in raising the miner's heart rate by one beat per minute.

"Benezia's influence over these people is... stronger than I imagined." commented Bau. "Whatever brainwashing technology she used on these men, it seems to be affecting the whole planet."

Bau and the Normandy team had boarded the Ascalon, before making a drop onto Caleston's surface. They spent hours investigating the ghost ship, fighting the occasional Geth. From the crew's personal logs, it was obvious that Benezia had mentally compromised them somehow, and then did the same to certain members of Caleston's communities, if the security logs were anything to go by. But exactly how she accomplished this? That part eluded the Spectre. Anderson was a bit skeptical, naturally.

"I'm still not sure I buy this whole hypnosis thing. If she had that ability, She would have captured T'soni with the Templars at her disposal, and taken the artifact with the help of the miners. Instead the miners choke up the supply of element zero, ruin the local economy and Syneu becomes a police state under Templar rule. If the news stream we've been catching is any indication, it's chaos down there."

"We assumed that T'soni and the artifact were her primary goals, mostly because those were what I would be after in her place. Maybe the true goal _is_ to sow chaos. Saren... had always been vocal about humanity's growth, and in one of his more infamous rants he claimed that Sol was one bad day away from becoming a small Terminus system. Maybe Caleston is a test to prove that theory..."

Anderson shook his head. Saren, planning to destroy humanity through sociology? What was the point of marshaling a force of synthetics, then?

He decided to check on the rest of the Squad. Maybe they had found something more concrete: a canister of sleeping gas, maybe.

"Anderson to squad, report."

_"Vega here: still working on the IFV, sir."_

_"Taylor here: I tried every med combination I can think of. Unless you want me to risk heart attacks I can't get these people out of their funk, sir."_

_"Wrex here, still looking for decent loot."_

_"Jenkins here, err- nothing to report, sir."_

_"Williams here: I'd just like to report that Wrex and Jenkins just stuffed some bags of weed into their packs. Sir."_

_"What?" asked Wrex. "We asked if we could take it. The guy said yes!"_

_"He just grunted and drooled!"_

"No blazing on the job, you two. I shouldn't have to remind you of this."

_"I wasn't going to blaze!" _protested Jenkins._ "Honest!"_

_"I did see a lot of Marijuana plants in hydroponics, sir. "_ Commented Taylor._ "Maybe they modified it, or Caleston's soil altered it? We should bring some back to Dr Chakwas for analysis, just in case."_

"Agreed; Jenkins, you mark those bags as bio-hazardous samples, got it?"

_"Yes, sir."_

"I think we've seen all that we needed to see and done all that we can here. Everyone, head back to the garage. Once we've secured the artifact, I'll be sure to call Alliance Command to send relief efforts."

"Agreed," replied Bau. "We've lost enough time as it is."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Man, this Mako II handles like a dream!" exclaimed Vega.<p>

"Watch out for the river of lava, goddammit!" screamed Williams as Vega swerved the vehicle a little too close to a cliff for comfort. "Ever heard of convection?! I don't want to cook inside this thing!"

"Aw, quit your bellyaching, woman!" chuckled Wrex. The Krogan was sitting in the auto-cannon turret, having taken on the job of gunner due to his 'extensive experience in heavy weapons'. "A little pants-shitting terror goes a long way towards keeping your mind sharp. It's good for ya!"

"And it's a straight way to the Artifact site, in any case." said Vega as he stepped on the accelerator. "So relax and enjoy the ride!"

The mission had changed. Lord-Captain Bafford's logs detailed a working Prothean artifact excavated by RedWater Mining, and the Asari archaeologists that the company had consulted had, strangely enough, omitted to mention that in their reports to the University of Thessia. Bau thought he should look into this, as withholding functioning Prothean tech was a severe crime in Council space. More urgently, neither Bau nor Anderson wanted to see a repeat of Eden Prime, and decided to secure or destroy the Prothean monolith before Saren got wind of it.

T'soni... T'soni was now a secondary concern. Bau hoped to find her at the dig site, but judging from the logs on the Ascalon and from the situation on Syneu, he didn't expect her to be alive.

"Sir!" Taylor called out to Anderson. "I've got a huge contact on the scopes! Displacement is frigate class, profile is Thessian... It's the Waking Dreamer, approaching fast from our six o'clock!"

"Patch me through to the Normandy!" commanded Anderson.

"Already done, sir!"

"Joker, we're going to need air supp-"

"Wait," interrupted Taylor. "It's ignoring us!"

"They can't have missed us!" exclaimed Vega. "We're in the middle of a field kicking up ashes at seventy kilometers an hour!"

"It's dropping something on our way: heavy mass signatures, five of them, half a click in front of us and closing!"

"I see them!" shouted Wrex. "Geth platforms, huge ones!"

"Colossi?" asked Bau.

"I see them too! Two arms, two legs... No..." muttered Vega. "They're Wanzers. _Geth _Wanzers!..."

Everyone in the passenger cabin looked at each other in horror.

"Urdnot." said Anderson, his voice cold. "Fire at will."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Earlier...<strong>_

After hours of radio silence, Hein had finally decided to communicate with the Deep Eyes. Apparently, the Normandy had arrived early, and Hein had been forced to run the ship as silently as possible to avoid being detected. Apparently the Alliance vessel had just dipped low to make an orbital drop, and the window of opportunity to speak with the ground team was only ten minutes long. From within the Spooky truck, Grey relayed the events of the past few hours in as few words as possible, and Hein processed everything he said.

"We're still go for the recovery mission, sir. We've still got a covert route into the Prothean Monolith and a way off planet should we need it. Alternatively, we could use the IFF for a quick airdrop near the dig site."

_"And alert every Templar in the area. I'm not interested in sending you on a suicide mission, Captain." _Hein's frown flickered on the monitor. "_Secure your Copperhead and then proceed to the Prothean Undercity."_

"Is it just me," whispered Garrus to Jensen, "Or is the Colonel being... reasonable?" Jensen shushed him.

"There's also the matter of T'soni's safety. There isn't a spot on Caleston that the Templars won't find her and while she's safer with us than anyone else, we're headed into harm's way. We could have Highwind fly her to you, but once we take off the Templars will be onto our hijacked IFF fairly quickly. It would be a one way trip, but the mission would be mostly successful and we'd be on our way to accomplish our second objective."

_"And then you'd have to take on an entire Templar battalion to get off the planet. Again, not interested in a suicide mission."_

"...Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Always."

"We've made the situation on Caleston worse by staying here. And Benezia's... abilities are an unknown we're simply neither trained nor prepared for. T'soni's safe. We should cash in our chips and go home."

_"Hm hm... Mr. Shadow? Do you share that sentiment?"_

Grey and Jensen frowned under their helmets, surprised by the question. What did Hein care about Adam's input- and why?

Jensen put some thought into it, and found himself agreeing with Grey. "I think he's right. I can get in and out of a highly secure facility or even a military bunker well enough, but dealing with a nearly omniscient Asari that can get inside your head thanks to an alien device is outside my area of expertise."

Hein snorted derisively. _"What's the matter, you two? Thought you'd shoot up some aliens and save the day, Captain? And you..."_ he then eyed Jensen. _"...probably thought you'd crawl in a few vents, hack a few terminals and then go home, hm?"_

"Ah, there's the Hein we know." Neil whispered to Garrus, who nodded quietly.

Grey gritted his teeth, repressing his anger at being toyed with. "Sir, we don't have the experience to-"

_"You have no idea what's at stake here, what Benezia really represents. There is no training module, no VR sim to help you deal with the likes of her, and the fate of the galaxy may very well depend on all of you earning that experience, the wisdom to face that insanity." _Then, Hein's expression softened, and Grey was unnerved by how quickly he could switch emotional gears. Aki swore to Grey that Hein wasn't a psychopath, but sometimes he wondered..._ "But you're right. It's a bit too much to handle, isn't it? The sane thing to do is to leave, but the important thing to do is to stay the course. Let's bring in a tie-breaker. Ms. T'soni?"_

The young Asari girl's eyes widened in surprise. "Y-yes?"

_"Seeing as these two gentlemen are so concerned for your safety, what do you think we should do now? Should we abandon the relic to Benezia and save everyone in this truck, including yourself?"_

Manah was not used to this, to be asked to make such a major decision. She had always followed the path others had set for her: Her mother's, the Justicars'. And now these strange, short-lived aliens were giving her such an important choice to make. It was almost overwhelming...

"I don't want to see anyone else get hurt for my sake... But I...I just want to be safe."

"Well," said Ryan. "I'd say that settles it. Let's get out of here."

"No, wait! Let me finish..." Manah took a deep breath. "The Prothean monolith is... it represents an aspect of Prothean civilization that we've never seen before... Something that might be even more powerful than the manipulation of Dark Energy! I can't allow my mother to take it, and if you are going to take it away from her, then for you to succeed I MUST come with you. Opening up the Monolith requires my expertise, as will walking through the maze of the Undercity."

"We'll be going up against Templars, your mother's personal guard, maybe even the Geth." stated Ryan. "Do you understand that we can't guarantee your safety should we encounter them?"

"I understand... but my life, in the grand scheme of things, is not important."

Hein smiled approvingly. _"Well then, there you have it gentlemen. Are you going to show less spine than a petite Asari?"_

"...No, sir." said Grey. "We're going to proceed with the mission. If we personally encounter Benezia, what are we to do? Capture her?"

_"If you can, yes. If not... then kill her. Durendal out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>On the Durendal's CIC, Dr. Ross glared daggers at Hein.<p>

"You should have ordered them to come back!" she rebuked. "The situation on Caleston-"

"The situation on Caleston will only get worse as long as that artifact remains on the planet."

"Then we should let the Alliance handle it! You've seen that orbital drop vector, they're headed there right now!"

"The Alliance?" Hein voice ran cold, his usual devil-may-care attitude gone. "I had faith in the Alliance, once, and I gave them my finest creation. And do you know what they did with...it? Do you know what they did, hm? _They threw it away._"

Ross wasn't sure what Hein meant... was he talking about the Durendal? No, that wasn't right, the Durendal was a United States project, and the Alliance had been the one to pick up its pieces.

"The Alliance..." Hein continued, his voice dripping with a bitter venom. "...has failed me, completely and utterly. It has proven itself undeserving of the true gift of the Protheans... We're on the edge of a revolution, Dr Ross, and I intend to leave the Alliance and its masters behind to stew in their own obsolescence... And besides..." Hein put his smile back on. "Anderson seems to have an intense dislike for me."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While the GARDIAN system protecting the airspace above Syneu was an ironclad web, the Starport's security was... less so. The area reserved for small VTOL craft like the Copperhead was protected by a chain link fence and barbed wire. Hashmal infantry support mechs patrolled the area, but for a stealthy cyborg with two hackers and a pilot in tow, they had proven surprisingly easy to deal with. Jensen approached them cloaked, stuck a small wireless device on their software maintenance ports, and Moody hacked into the mechs using a computer mounted in his arm, an old ORION-COMP 2080 modded to have the full functions of an Omni-Tool. Thanks to Moody's hacks, the Hashmalim would be staying perfectly still, completely blind, but the data they transmitted back to their control center would make them appear to be functional and on patrol.<p>

"Couldn't you hack those to be loyal to us?" asked Neil. He and the Spookies were hiding in a ditch while Jensen sneaked about. "My pals could use the firepower when they go down there."

"Sure, I could!" said Moody. "But then I'd have to cut off the Hashmal's data feed to its Command and Control system, and that would send the whole place into high alert."

"Just be glad they're not shooting at us with those heavy machine guns, dude!" added Manuel. "Or those plasma throw-Whoa!"

Manuel yelped as Jensen landed besides him and decloaked. "That's the last of them, the way to the Copperhead's landing pad is clear. Let's go."

They made their way to the landing pad and, once again, the Spookies had to hide while Jensen took down a few patrolling Templars while Neil covered him with his DMR. The dark-armored cyborg rendered four Knights unconscious with ease, but a Crusader would have nearly spotted Jensen's handiwork had Neil not distracted the heavily armored soldier by shooting out a nearby light. Adam quickly dispatched the Crusader by kicking him in the back of the knee, tearing off his helmet's faceplate, and shoving a stunner right into his face.

"Thanks." said Jensen through his wireless, grateful for the support.

"Anytime," replied Neil as he signaled the Spookies to come out of hiding and get to work. "Hey, Je- I mean, Shadow... I've been meaning to ask: how much time have you spent under cloak just now?"

"...I'd say about ten minutes, why?"

"...Ten minutes?! And you haven't gone bonkers?"

"I'm missing something here. What are you even talking about?"

"EM-based personal cloaking systems like yours tend to cause severe psychosis through overuse. Look, are you _sure_ you're okay?"

"...I'm fine. Cloaking for long periods of time has never been a problem for me."

"Well, that's just... huh, you know what? Never mind. We still have some work to do."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Moody to Spooky Truck, come in, Mister Wolf?"<em>

"Wolf here," replied Grey. "Got something to report?"

_"The IFF pulse beacon is plugged in and your bird is ready for a big damn rescue. Shadow's on his way back and Highwind's at the pilot's seat. Hey, Wolf? Once this DARPA fella has us sign his paperwork, you think we can drop the whole codenames nonsense? I can barely keep those stupid things straight. Maybe we could do a proper round of re-introductions over a beer when this is all over? What do you say?"_

Grey smiled at that: A beer did sound real nice right then. "Sure. First round's on me."

_"Count me in," _said Neil over the wireless. _"I think we could all use a drink after this."_

"You going to be okay stuck in that cockpit, Neil?"

_"Aw, don't you worry about me, I've got company... But, I'm not sure I feel okay about leaving you guys to do the hard work while I just sit here..."_

Left unsaid was the reminder of the events of Akuze, from Neil's perspective. With only a lightly armed drop ship, he was unable to help anyone on the ground. The Thresher Maws made landing impossible, and Neil was forced to hear his comrades scream over the wireless as they were devoured by the acid spit of the Maws.

"Don't you worry, Neil. We're all coming back. Count on it."

Jensen entered the truck, and Grey started up the engine.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>To pass the time on the way to the nearest elevator to the Undercity, Jane had decided to show Manah the coins she had taken from Atkins' stash, if only to figure out what was so special about old pieces of bronze with a worthless yellow green gem set inside of it.<p>

Manah finished eating her second ration bar, and examined the coins that Jane set on the table. "Prothean Macca, from the hundredth and seventh era."

"Are they worth anything?" asked Jane.

"Most of them? Nothing, but the see the glow in these ones?" Manah set aside seven of the Prothean coins. Their gems, indeed, glowed a faint light. "These are considered priceless, since the gems are full."

"Full of what?"

"Energy. Each Prothean Macca coin contains about, let me do some conversion..." Manah did some quick mathematics in her head, counting with her fingers. "...Around seven of your gigajoules in potential thermal and electrical energy."

Jane whistled. "That's... wow, that's easily half as much as what you get in an OVO can. Wait, Protheans used super-batteries as _currency_?"

"Protheans apparently saw little worth in paper or precious metals. Energy was far more useful to them, and they centered their economy on it."

"You'd think they'd base their economy around Eezo."

"And Element Zero itself is worth little without electric energy."

"Hm, I guess you got a point there. So uh, how much to these things go on the market? A lot?"

"That depends on who you're selling it to. Artifact collectors are willing to pay at least a million credits for a fully charged Macca coin, and only five thousand at most for an intact but discharged one."

"Well damn, if I had known ancient batteries were worth so much, I'd have taken a whole lot more!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Manah and Jane were discussing ancient batteries, Ryan was busy dealing with modern-day ones by swapping out the Bio-electric gel from one of the Spooky truck's spare OVO tanks into Garrus' salvaged particle gun. The Longinus, instead of using regular OVO cans, had a 600ml rod-shaped container fitted on the length of the gun's barrel, insulated from the gun's heat by a thin layer of Aerogel. It made wielding it in its sword mode less awkward to wield, but replacing the battery was tricky. Having no spare Bio-electric gel rods, swapping out the gel was the only way to bring it back into full charge.<p>

"Alright, that should give you twelve shots to work with," said Ryan as he handed to freshly charged weapon back to Garrus. "Try to keep at least some power in the battery: the gun's sword mode also needs some juice."

"Sword mode, huh?" said Garrus, as the weapon folded back into storage mode. "Can you explain to me something? Why do the Templars like hand-to-hand combat so much to the point of integrating melee weapons into their guns? Those Katara rifles they use look like big knives, and then you've got this particle rifle here. I mean, I get the idea: Guns are cool. Swords are cool. But bringing the two together? It seems a bit... silly."

"It's not a new idea. I mean, back on Earth? We used to fix bayonets on muskets a few centuries back."

"Right, but times have changed: swords and spears are outdated weapons on the battlefield."

"Times are changing right now, too. The armor I'm wearing can absorb a great deal of small arms fire, shield or no shield, and it's not even made with modern CNT materials. Personal protection technology is starting to catch up with kinetic offensive technology, and soon the only reliable way for a soldier to kill another soldier is by using high-energy melee weapons, like heat knives or high-frequency blades."

"I guess the Templars want to be ready for when war changes back to constant, bloody hand-to-hand carnage."

Certain that Garrus was all set up, Ryan approached the Asari archeologist. "Excuse me, Mrs. T'soni? Seeing as you'll be coming with us, I think you should put this on." He put a thick belt with a heavy buckle on the table. "Moody had this laying around. It's a civilian-grade personal kinetic barrier, could you put this on so we won't have to worry too much about you getting hit by a stray bullet?

"Oh! Yes, of course, thank you." She proceeded to strap the belt around her waist and pressed its activation switch. The shield belt calibrated itself to her form, and a blue aura flickered across her body for a moment.

"Don't go thinking you're invincible with that thing on, okay?" said Jane. "If there's shooting, you run and hide or, failing that, hide behind the thickest piece of cover you can find."

"Everyone!" Grey said out loud from the cab. The truck slowed down, and parked in front of a factory owned by RedWater. "We've arrived at the access points. Double check your gear, and let's get moving. Shadow, Jane? Moody tells me this place is guarded by a handful of security guards. Take them out quietly and non-lethally."

Grey opened the side door that led out of the semi-trailer, and stepped out. Everyone followed him out, ready to head deep underground into the unknown.

"Let's get to work, people."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Caim sat near a pile made out of the corpses of the young fools that thought they could take on the might of God's own army. It had only been thirty minutes since the hostilities ended. The gangs had fought bravely, and had fought to the bitter end. Of course, Caim was a master at making ends so very bitter.<p>

He examined his favored weapon: a curved, wide black blade the length of a man, like a cleaver but thicker and longer. Its edge cooled, and Caim proceeded to wipe off the burnt blood caked on it with a dry cloth. He had done this so many times it had become a sort of ritual.

Then the hunger came again.

Ever since Mindoir, ever since he had witnessed the terrible fate that the Alien priests had put his family through, the hunger had been there. It was not a hunger of the body. Food did not sate it, no matter how much he ate.

When Inquisitor Grissom had taken him in, he had said that it was a hunger of the soul, and that only a life spent in the service of God could fill that terrible void. Caim had believed him, and had gone through the torturous training regimen that made all Templars a force to be reckoned with. He had learned the mantras and the prayers, learned the bibles by heart, and had faithfully observed the holy days. Yet that screaming void inside of him did not subside.

And then a man had died by his hand for the very first time, and he felt the hunger still itself for a moment. The relief had been so... palpable, so soothing, and yet his blood still ran hot. Death, violent and bloody, was what Caim needed to relieve the pain, and the stronger the kill, the more his spirit was soothed. He threw himself into combat with such wild Zeal that his superiors had taken notice, had examined his worth as a leader of men, and had not found him lacking in the least.

"Lord Commander?" a timid young Scribe came up besides him and gave a proper Templar salute by crossing his arms over his heart and taking a slight bow.

Caim nodded in his direction. "Scribe? What news do you bring me?"

"The Artisans sent me to report to you that your Wanzer has been repaired. Lord Major Vael also reported that he has dealt with the situation in the Alienage by dispatching a dozen Hashmalim to suppress the gathering crowd. They've returned peacefully to their...business."

"Hmph. Vael always was too bloody soft. He should have just killed them all."

"...Is, that an order, milord?"

"No." after all, what sport could a bunch filthy alien hedonists offer him? "What of my Coterie? Are they well?"

"Ah, the healers have begun reattaching the legs of Ser Hart, and he should recover within two days. Ser Osha's injuries are more severe, her spine is cracked, and careful work will have to be done to restore her."

"Good... Good. Anything else to report?"

"Nothing else, milord."

"Then you are dismissed, Scribe."

"Thank you, milord. May the god Bapho- ungh!" The scribe lost his balance for a moment, and shook his head in confusion. "...May... may the Black Queen watch over you." The scribe saluted again, and left Caim to ponder his next move.

The hardened Templar's thoughts wandered back to the Abomination that had taken T'soni from his grasp, and defeated both if his companions so... completely. Thoughts of vengeance begat feelings of eagerness. He wanted to face him again, and destroy him so utterly.

He hoped the Black Queen would give him another chance...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Matriarch sat cross-legged in front of the Prothean Monolith, meditating on its form as its power hummed through the air, a forbidding, electric aura that challenged anyone that came near it to glean secrets from it at the risk of their sanity. Heat from Caleston's core made it warm to the touch, while the air that came from above through the wide shaft that RedWater had built above it cooled it down.<p>

The Matriarch kept her distance, paying heed to that aura, denying herself the power, waiting patiently for the researchers under her command to unlock the device and allow her to bring its knowledge to her Lord Saren.

The Black Queen drank from that aura, whetting her own appetite, eager for the men under her thrall to force the Grimoire open and allow her to claim this portion of the power of Aleph for herself.

Who was Aleph, she wondered? The name echoed in her thoughts, but she could not recall who it belonged to. She had been asleep for far too long...

The Matriarch had wanted Caleston under her control, and when she planted herself into the minds of the Senior Templars on that world she had commanded them to do as they always did, but for her sake.

The Black Queen wanted Vulcanus lost to all dominion, to all reason, and when she wormed her way into the souls of every pillar of Caleston's community, she had seduced them into indulging their true desires, at the cost of everything around them.

The Matriarch did not oppose the Black Queen.

The Black Queen did not thwart the Matriarch.

The Matriarch realized how odd this was... how could one person want two mutually different things? How could she serve Saren, with her mind so divided?

_"Ah, Benezia... Even now you long to please your master, as you indulge your personal envies." _the matriarch felt someone press behind her, and a hand with a skin of liquid metal, dark blue with a red glint, reached out and caressed her left breast. Another hand caressed the small of her back, and Benezia's skin became flush with blood. The Black Queen's ghostly touch was electric, soothing, and disarming. _"Saren is far, far away from here, and right now, right here, there is only **you**..."_

The Matriarch looked around her: no one paid heed to the regal, dark figure behind her. Only she could see her, hear her...

"...Ah!"

...Feel her, as she bit her ear.

_"You could have called upon him the minute you saw this prize, but you wanted it all to yourself... No, that's not right. You wanted **Manah** all to yourself."_

"I want Manah to serve Saren, as I serve him."

_"Serve? Oh, she will serve him, indeed. How long before your so-called Lord Saren would fall for her innocent charms, and his thoughts turn to her more and more, and her whispers begin to take hold in his black heart? She was always beautiful, and so, so very fragile, like a flower... so unlike you, an old, imperious pillar of stone, ever calm. Her heart burned with the flame of youth while yours withered into a block of ice as age began to show its marks on the texture of your skin. Even as she smiled at you lovingly, you wanted nothing more than strangle the very life out of her!"_

"No, it isn't true... I... I have always loved my daughters."

_"Was it love that made you send Manah away to be locked up in a tower of pale stone, never to be seen again? Was it love that drove you to put her in the tender care of the Justicars to be beaten, scarred, and violated into submission?"_

"She has a condition, she needed to be protected..."

_"Does it still hurt, the sight of your poor little wing's eyes, empty of all spirit for all eternity? Does it still hurt to remember what it feels like to see her life flee her body as you held that pillow tight against her face?"_

"It was an accident!... She couldn't help it!"

_The dark figure hugged her from behind. "Oh, you poor thing!... I see that it still does! And the knowledge that Manah would spend a lifetime imprisoned brought you such succor."_

"...Yes. It felt... good. It felt good to watch her cry and scream as the Justicars came to take her away..."

_"Yes, open yourself to the shadows of your heart..."_

"Yes, it felt good to know that she would suffer for the sorrow she had wrought... and then I heard the news: Manah had seduced her jailors with the promise of a deeper understanding of the ancient Protheans, and all I wanted to do at that moment was hunt her down and make her _pay..._"

_"Yes, embrace what you are, embrace your dark desires, and I shall give you all that you wish for... I shall grant you an eternity of pleasures, a perpetuity of youth, and power everlasting... and most importantly of all..."_

"...We shall make Manah suffer for an aeon."

_**"Yes, I shall..."**_

The dark figure became as smoke, and melted into the body of the Matriarch, and just like that, she became as much a part of the Black Queen as the Black Queen became part of her. Her awareness of the world increased ten-fold, and she could feel... _everything_ in it. It was almost overwhelming, this power to turn the souls of everyone around her to whatever purposes she required. She could feel the electricity that ran through her Biotic nodes, every single one of them pulsed in unison. She lifted herself up, and she floated just a few inches above the ground, and the exercise did not tire her at all. Yes, this was proper. When next Saren saw her he would see her as an equal... and perhaps, something more.

As if inspired by her newfound focus and presence, the Templar sages around her redoubled their efforts, and managed to unmake one of the locks on the Monolith. It opened slightly, and a beam of orange-red light shot up above.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"See?" shouted Wrex as the last of the Geth Wanzers fell into a lifeless, smoking heap, its shell ravaged by a three-shot burst of 15 mm tungsten carbine slugs accelerated at two kilometers per second. "You can't beat a tank when it comes to armored ground combat."<p>

"We're in an IFV." corrected Taylor.

"Whatever!"

"Mako: Four! Wanzers? Zero!" Williams agreed, happily.

Vega, on the other hand, while thrilled to be alive, had to outmaneuver skating Wanzers on a wheeled vehicle on dusty terrain irrigated by lava. "Yeah, well, it was touch and go there for a second! Whew!"

"Settle down, everyone," said Anderson. "The mission's not over. Anything on the scopes, Taylor?"

"Nothing, but I'm keeping my eyes peeled."

Jondum Bau and the rest of the team had just arrived at the edge of a small prefab town. It was built around the hundred meter wide mouth of the deep pit RedWater had dug above the monolith, with the intention of extracting the artifact AND the huge battery it was attached to. Apparently, it would have revolutionized the energy industry. With such a prize at stake and with the need for secrecy, RedWater's operations on Caleston had run themselves ragged trying to undertake both the project AND maintain a steady supply of Element Zero.

Just two kilometers through the town and a long, twelve kilometer elevator ride down the planet's crust later, and Bau's mission would be nearly complete.

Anderson gave everyone their orders. "Vega, Urdnot, Taylor and I will go on foot to escort the Mako while it makes its way through the town. Williams, man the gun. Jenkins, you'll be driving - remember to keep it slow and steady. Bau, I know I can't give you orders, but..."

"I shall stay inside and operate the vehicle's sensors. I think I'll be able to spot trouble before it spots us."

"Thank you. Alright, let's get-"

The ground shook and trembled for a few seconds, then stopped.

"Aw, dammit!" cursed Jenkins. "Just what we needed, an Earthquake!"

"Sir?" interrupted Vega. "I think you should see this!"

Most of the Team stepped outside of the IFV to see with their own eyes what was happening. A beam of orange red light emanated from the center of town, and where the beam and the sky met, dark clouds gathered in a swirl. Thunder split the sky, and for the first time in an eon rain fell on the ashen plains of Caleston.

"Sweet Mother of God in Heaven..." muttered Williams. "Do you think... do you think we're too late?"

"No." said Bau as he cocked his handgun, checking the ammo block. "It is not too late to neutralize Benezia, at least."

"Everyone," commanded Anderson, "to your positions, and move out!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Holy shit." muttered Jane at the sight.<p>

"Yeah." agreed Ryan. "No kidding."

Twelve kilometers within Caleston's crust was a empty space 3 kilometers high and 18 kilometers wide, and built on its floor was the Prothean Undercity. Evenly spaced tall pillars of white stone, engraved with bas-reliefs of mighty beasts, held the ceiling in place. A faint blue glow, emanating from a dense flora of bio-luminescent fungi formations that grew on both the ceiling and the curved walls of a dense forest of buildings of incredibly detailed architecture, reminiscent of the Śikhara style of middle-age India blended with modern Thessian. The forest's buildings got progressively taller the closer to the city's center they were, and right in the middle of the spires was the Ziggurat, where the Monolith was kept.

The Deep Eyes' breaths were taken away, their hearts overtaken with awe. While they had all traveled to different planets, exiting that elevator had felt like stepping into a completely different world.

Manah smiled a little sadly; she had hoped she would return here under better circumstances.

As for Jensen, he felt an odd sense of deja-vu that irritated the back of his head, along with a sense of loss that weighed down his heart... And he realized those were odd feelings to have, considering he had never been here before.

"This place... it's seen better days." he said.

"Yes, it did." replied Manah. "One hundred thousand years ago... and it's held up quite nicely, I think, considering its age. The Protheans were master builders. Even when they used the most primitive materials: Stone, wood... their artifices lasted far, far longer than anything we could build using modern technology. See the Ziggurat?" Manah pointed at the central building. "I guarantee you won't see a scratch on it."

"What's with the ugly looking metal cylinder on top of it." asked Ryan. "It kinda stands out..."

"That is part of the shaft RedWater dug to pull out the city's power core. The Monolith is set right on top of it."

"Why didn't they just take it out through one of the elevators?" asked Grey.

"Because it's too big." said Jensen.

"Yes, the Core is a hundred meters wide and over a kilometer long. RedWater was worried removing it would cause a surge of lava to flow out of the hole, and they thought to funnel the flow of lava to the surface and into a lake of lava through irrigation.

Grey became aghast. "Wait, we're only a kilometer away from Caleston's mantle?! This place should be hotter than an oven!"

"I feel fine," said Ryan.

"My...face isn't melting, sir." said Jane as she felt her skin beneath her Revenant tactical mask. "I think we're good."

"I cannot answer why the air of the Undercity is so cool," said Manah. "I suspect it might have to do something with the Core absorbing the heat... but that is just a theory."

"Well, it's no use speculating. Alright, everyone... we've still got six klicks to go on foot."

"It's a shame we can't keep using the Quad..." said Jane, pointing at the vehicle that had been waiting for them at the elevator. Apparently RedWater's prospectors used them to get around the Undercity through its system of obsidian roads. Many of them had fallen into disrepair, and many more were blocked by small mountains of fallen rubble.

"No complaining, soldier. We-"

The ground beneath their feet shook and trembled, and a wave of orange light burst out of the Ziggurat and washed over them harmlessly. The shaking stopped... and began shaking again more violently. The faint blue glow that illuminated the Undercity became a bright orange, and it took a moment for everyone to realize that it wasn't the fungi that had changed color.

The orange glow came from the lava swelling up behind them.

Garrus encapsulated how everyone was feeling at that particular moment with two simple words. "Oooooooh crap."

"RUN LIKE HELL!" screamed Grey.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Black Queen drank deep from the power that bled away from the monolith, even as the Templar Sages and their underlings fled the scene. Her presence became stronger, but something felt wrong. Someone was coming, intent on stopping her... yes, she could taste their defiance in the air.<p>

High above was an old soldier, his tired body host to a heart full of quiet rage cloaked in sorrow. He was determined to exact revenge - any kind, even the littlest morsel would do - against Saren... even if it meant the men following him were to perish.

And slightly below, and far off in the distance, was a young broken warrior, his soul filled with sorrow masked by anger, intent on proving himself and the men accompanying him worthy once again... Even if it meant sacrificing his own life.

Besides that one was Him, the one that had resisted her whispers. And besides Him was... her...

That little whore.

Uncloaking beside her were several Geth platforms, and they stood there, silently waiting for her commands. She could not use her mind to command them, and that was something she would have to correct, soon.

"There are six interlopers, several kilometers west of here. One of them is my daughter... Marshal all the platforms you can spare to capture her, and kill the rest." As she said the words aloud, the Templars patrolling the Undercity received similar mental commands.

The Geth platforms proceeded to follow her orders, and the Black Queen smiled. Soon she would have gained more power than she had ever lost. Soon, she would have that vile little monster born of the void in her grasp again, and she would make her suffer.

But what to do with the old soldier?

Ah, yes.

_**"Caim..."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Caim shivered with delight. His mistress was calling him, her disembodied voice echoing in the hunger, its sound soothing the void... Yes, besides satiating his bloodlust, the Black Queen's hold over him brought him relief. It was why he had forsaken his oath as a Templar and...<p>

_Wait, _he thought._ did I truly forsake my oath? When did I ever..._

And then, just like that, the hunger deepened. Had she abandoned him?

_"Fear not, my sweet Caim, I have not abandoned you... But there is blood to spill, and I want your thirst at its peak. Come! Come and slay all that wish me harm, Caim. My one, my only... my **Champion**."_

_Caim grinned from ear to ear. It was time to fetch his Angelus._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Keep moving!" screamed Grey. "We are not out of the woods yet!"<p>

For the members of Durendal team, running through the labyrinthine streets and walkways was difficult enough when molten rock was dogging their footsteps, but fountains of lava burst all around them on top of their troubles, warming the air to a nearly unbearable level of heat.

The six-story high stone walkway they were running on had effectively turned into a bridge that connected both sides of an incredibly wide, newly-formed river of lava.

The path crumbled at the center, blocking their way. The gap was incredibly wide, but Jensen leapt across it easily, leaving the rest of his comrades on the other side. Garrus was ready to follow his partner, not to be outdone, but Ryan grabbed him by the shoulder and stopped him.

"No!" he shouted. "You'll die!"

"I can make that jump, easily!" Garrus shot back.

"There's a lava flow right underneath us! The hot air will eat through your cheap Agent suit and cook you alive!"

"If we stay here we're going to cook anyways!"

Jensen deployed the Fandango blade and started slicing into one of the decorative pillars that once held up a glass roof. He cut a wedge into it, punched it off, and the pillar fell with a loud thud, bridging both sides of the gap. It was thick and wide enough to shield anyone walking onto it from the hot air, but only just.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" shouted Grey over the din of bursts of lava. "Move across it, everyone!"

"Wait!" Ryan shouted back. "It's starting to crumble, we can't go all at once!"

Grey cursed under his breath: why couldn't anything be simple? "Fine! T'soni, you're the lightest, you go first!"

Manah was hesitant to cross at first, scared out of her mind, and started walking carefully across the makeshift bridge.

"Hurry up!" urged Grey, and Manah ran, quickly understanding that if she took too long, the others would perish quickly. Adam took her hand as she neared the other side, and she crossed safely.

Jane followed suit, then Garrus, and Ryan had insisted that Grey go next, since he was lighter. Grey passed through, and he beckoned Ryan to traverse. The walkway crumbled behind him, and the large, heavy soldier ran on the crumbling span of the makeshift bridge, and the weight of his footfalls caused it to crack and break as he reached its middle. Grey and Jane screamed as he fell to his doom...

_So this is how it ends, _he thought, as the world slowed down around him._ Fallen into perdition's very flames. It's... proper. It's just what I deserve..._

He closed his eyes, and waited for his body to burn... and waited... and waited... and, wondering why he wasn't bathed in agonizing pain, he opened his eyes.

He was _floating._ Erratically, but floating, and he was slowly coming up.

He looked up, and got a glimpse of Manah's body flaring with dark energy that emanated from the element zero nodes in her body. She didn't reach out with mnemonics - she simply stood there, her body straight and breathless, a statue of alabaster wrapped in Saint-Elmo's flames. She was struggling: she had never manipulated anything as large or as heavy as a man before, and Ryan stalled due to her lack of training, his body aloft over the intense heat of the lava. She needed to hurry, or else he would be roasted alive.

_"Take a deep breath." _said Shadow at her side, his hand on her shoulder_... _but his voice sounded...different._ "The dark flow of Starfire is more than just a field, it is your hand. Feel his mass as you would holding a stone, touching it, feeling its weight in your palm..."_

His words took root in her mind, and before long she could _feel _Ryan, somehow... and it made it easier to keep him steady and pull him up. Shadow left her side and, along with Garrus reached out for the large Terran soldier to pull him up, and she gasped, trying to recover her lost stamina. She had never, ever used her biotics for so long before, and her inefficient biotic skills burned her out.

Now that Ryan's feet were on solid ground. he let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks; you three are God's own angels," he said to the Cyborg, the Turian and the Asari.

The other side of the walkway crumbled completely. "No time for that, keep moving!"

Just as they were about to reach the end of the walkway, it crumbled in front of them again, and just behind them as well. The six of them now stood on a platform held up by a rapidly melting pillar, and the whole thing was starting to wobble in the directions of a lake of fire and a small building some thirteen meters away.

"Everyone on the left!" shouted Grey. "We need to make this thing fall near that roof!"

"It's gonna be a rough landing!" said Garrus as he carried out Grey's order.

"It's better than the lava!"

"Not really arguing that, sir!"

The platform eventually lost all balance, and fell towards the building.

"Everyone, get ready to jump!"

"I-I-I..." Manah stuttered in terror. She didn't know if her bones could handle that landing. "I don't know if I-eek!"

Jensen picked her up a bridal carry as the platform started to fall, and on Grey's signal everyone leapt. He quickly overrode his Icarus Landing System and switched it on, intent on softening the landing to spare Manah's relatively fragile bones. They were both wrapped in a powerful golden electromagnetic field, and Manah gasped as the energy interacted with her nodes, causing them to flare and burst in a wide mass lightening field that wrapped the whole Durendal team. They all landed softly on the roof of the building, shocked at their suddenly lightened weight. They looked at their bodies, wrapped in blue energy, almost fascinated by the experience... well, almost everyone: Garrus had acquired a distaste with being tossed around by Biotics.

"Everyone alright?"

"Yeah..." said Ryan, his breath short. "We just need to catch our breaths."

Jane, doubled over and gasping, agreed. "We've been sprinting for over a kilometer and then some, sir. I think we're safe from the lava here."

"Take ten, everyone... or as long as this building doesn't collapse. Shadow? Didn't know that Icarus Landing System of yours could extend that far."

"It doesn't." Jensen replied as he set Manah down.

"I think that was me..." said Manah.

"Is that right?" Grey smiled, approving. "Well, seeing as you spared us quite a few broken bones... thank you, Ms. T'soni." It occurred to him then that maybe the United States military should look into investing in Biotics. The Alliance Navy certainly wasn't shy about it, and now he could see why.

"Oh, that's not..." her stomach gurgled, interrupting her attempt at modesty. She held her stomach with both hands, trying to quiet it down. "Oooh..."

"Are you... hungry? You just ate a whole daily ration not even an hour ago..."

Garrus explained on her behalf. "Biotics have an increased metabolism, and they need a hell of a lot more calories to burn."

"And she is pretty thin and small." noted Jensen.

"Right, not enough fat to burn. Here..." he withdrew a bar of flavorless concentrated protein and tried handing it to her, but recalled what Jensen said about her condition, and handed it to him instead. "...I don't need it."

"Oh, thank you..." Manah bowed with her hands in front of her, showing her gratitude.

"Hey! Is it just me, or is it getting dark now?" said Jane after a few minutes of rest.

Everyone looked up and around, and indeed, the Undercity returned to its dark blue glow, although many of the tall spires were lit from below by a dim and hellish orange-red light from below. The lava had cooled into magma, and the air became lukewarm.

"Well, that's one less problem. Is everyone rested?"

"I'm good to go, sir." confirmed Ryan.

"Ditto." said Jane. Garrus simply nodded, as did Jensen. Manah, unable to complain about her state, simply nodded as well.

"Alright then, we're moving out. Let's try and stay as far away from the ground level as possible. It's cooler now, but it's still pretty damned hot down there."

...

The large circular room they had arrived to was part of some kind of temple... or maybe a mausoleum, Grey had no idea. As for Jane, she was reminded of one of the many rooms of the St-Joseph's Oratory back home in Montreal, or its basilica as she recalled it, only with more of a hindu feel to it, and more bas-relief murals. The dome-shaped roof was separated into eight overlapping petals, and Jane figured they opened up to let the glow in or something.

"Do you..." Manah took a breath. "Do you still have those coins? I only need one - a charged one."

Jane shook her head. "Hm? Oh, sure. She took one out of her leg pack and dropped it into Manah's waiting hands. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it, however. When Manah slotted it in an indentation on the wall and the place became illuminated, she remembered.

"Oh, right. Battery coin." Jane sighed. "Well, there goes ten thousand platinum."

"You still got six, Jane," reminded Ryan. "Besides, you were probably going to spend all that coin on Quasar. Might as well use those Prothean, err...Marquis?"

"Macca."

"Right, Macca for something worthwhile, like getting us away from here. Place gives me the willies with that blue gloom all over the place."

Garrus snorted. "I prefer 'blue gloom' to 'red hot lava', but hey, I'm just picky that way."

Jane chuckled at that. "So, what are you using my coin for anyways, T'soni?"

Manah knelt in the center of a black stone circle, seven meters wide. It was, strangely enough, blank, and it stood out from the extremely detailed and decorated walls.

"I'm trying to activate this platform. It should be able to take us to the Ziggurat safely... or at least with little risk of us falling into magma."

"... I don't see any controls there, T'soni." commented Grey, skeptically.

"Well, that's because..." she put her hands on the circle, but nothing happened. "That's because... I... oh, curses! It's not working!"

Jensen stepped on the circle to see if he could help at all, and just then the circle generated a complex holographic mandala that glowed teal, with a complex yellow green sphere of interlocking parts in the center. Manah was joyous. "There! These are the controls for the floating platform!"

"Good, then take us out of here." commanded Grey.

"I-I need some time to solve this security puzzle, first..." said Manah as she grabbed the sphere. "I've solved things like these before in... in my spare time, this might take a few minutes."

"As long as it's not an hour." said Grey.

"Oh! It won't!... It might be a third of an hour, though." Manah manipulated the sphere, trying to figure out which pattern she had memorized would work on solving it.

"Great, gotta wait on the egghead figuring out an ancient Prothean video-game. Sir? Can I just say that I didn't sign up for any of this Indiana Jones crap? I'd rather be shooting shit."

Just as she said that, the Geth hoppers that had been stalking them sprang into action, and Templar soldiers burst into the room.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hah! I am loving this shit!" shouted Wrex as his 300M Shotgun's slug tore its way into a Geth Juggernaut's main power core. It fell like a rag doll, and Wrex propped it up with his Biotics and threw it into a fire team of Geth wielding rocket launchers. Jacob detonated its residual dark energy field, causing an explosion of blue light that engulfed all four Geth within it.<p>

This. This is what he loved. He hadn't been in a fight that good in a long while. He hadn't been part of a team worth a damn in a long while either, not since the good old days with Aleena. Vega proved to be handy with a GEP gun, Taylor proved to be very good at using combined Biotic techniques, and Anderson was a killer with an LMG, firing tight streams of high-velocity metal steadily and on target. The power-suit helped with that, of course, but old warriors needed every advantage to keep up in a young man's game.

Also: they had a tank. Having one on your side was always a good thing.

Wrex thought that maybe he should offer his services to Spectres more often. An Asari one, maybe, or a human should the Council ever make up their minds.

"Die, Alien scum!" screamed a charging power-armored Templar wielding a huge, two-handed melee weapon. Wrex did a quick double take at that one.

_Wait, is that a rocket-powered axe?_ he thought._ Are you serious?_

"Die, idiot." Wrex replied coolly as he leveled his shotgun at the Templar's face and fired off another shot. The human's kinetic shields proved to be far more resilient than anticipated, and by the time the ammo shaver had put another round in the firing chamber, the Templar had come close enough to take a swing. Wrex attempted to block with his weapon, but wound up destroying it. The Templar swung again, and this time Wrex caught the axe's haft with his bare hands, dropping the ruined shotgun in the process. To his surprise, the human and he were evenly matched in strength.

Before he could take advantage of his weight to wrestle the uppity human to the ground, Anderson fired a burst from his light machine gun into the Templar's armored head. The bullets ricocheted inside, shredding his brains, and he fell over dead, leaving Wrex with a new weapon.

"Quit screwing around!" shouted Anderson. Lightning from the storm came down and struck a Geth Juggernaut standing on a rooftop, and the Captain ordered Vega to blow it up while its shields and actuators were completely scrambled.

"And again!" shouted Vega as the Geth platform exploded into shrapnel and liquid. "Is it just me, or are the Geth lightning bait? This is the seventh time I see them getting struck by it!"

_"I like to think God's watching over us from on high," _quipped Williams over the TAC-Com.

_"Four incoming Geth stealth assault platforms from the north!" shouted Bau over the radio. "Marking them on your HUDs!"_

"I got'em." said Wrex as his Biotics flared and he Charged at the four icons in his helmet's Tactical HUD. The lead Geth he slammed into flew off and crashed into a prefab house. He took one swing with his newfound melee weapon and the other three large machines were torn by the axe's head, propelled by micro-plasma jets, which also sent their mechanical guts flying around in a splatter of silver white blood. One of them survived and lamely crawled away, so Wrex drew out his new Executioner pistol and fired a slug straight into the synthetic's power core, finishing it off for good.

Wrex had to admit, using a huge melee weapon in a firefight might not have been smart, but it was certainly_ fun._

Too bad the fight was pretty much over: Ashley fired off a burst from the Mako II's cannon, and the Armature that had been harassing them with those damned slow moving balls of explosive dark energy went down.

_"No more contacts on the scopes." radioed Bau. _

_"Everyone, back in formation." _ordered Anderson._ "We're just 3 minutes away from the pit."_

_"Hold on, there's a reason why I had us take this route. Mister Jenkins, stop the IFV."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Take your time, Bau." said Anderson sarcastically, "It's not like Benezia just activated an ancient Prothean artifact of unimaginable power."<p>

"Your men have been fighting non-stop for close to an hour." he said as he rummaged through T'soni's things, his Venom shotgun hanging from a strap around his shoulder. "They could use some rest before we make our way down into the RedWater pit. Perfect opportunity for me to gather some intel."

Vega didn't want to contradict Anderson, but he silently agreed with the Spectre. Gene-mods or no, they were still human in the end. And waiting on a Spectre was a welcome change of pace from going from one chest-high wall to the next while Anderson kept the enemy suppressed. An hour of that got a bit boring fast.

Manah T'soni's lodgings (a thirty-six square meter room encased in thin metal walls) were pretty spartan, with only a few workdesks and a bed for furniture. And judging by the three cots on the floor she was forced to bunk with three others. That must have sucked.

He sat down a plastic chair near a desk, took off his helmet (it was hard to breathe in those things, sometimes) and caught sight of an e-book. With nothing much to do until Bau found what he was looking for or the Geth attacked again, he read it.

It was an article on, of all things: Adam Jensen. The pad was full of them, dated around seven years ago. The first one was titled 'Pre-Collapse cyborg awakens from cryo sleep and escapes Europa laboratory'.

"Huh."

"What is it? asked Williams. She was going through T'soni's trash bin, but all she founds were the burnt remains of a book.

"Apparently T'soni had an interest in everyone's favorite Augmented Popsicle, our boy Adam Jensen."

Williams narrowed her eyes. "You don't say."

"Yeah, she's collected quite a few extra-net articles on the guy... makes sense, seeing as he's from a time gone by and she's an archeologist."

"Hmph."

"You... don't sound like you approve."

She laughed, disingenuously. "Hey, if the alien wants to get her rocks off to a machine, she's welcome to it."

"Do you mind keeping that, Mister Vega?" asked the Spectre. "Might be valuable...Ah! Found something! T'soni's audio log... or so I hope."

He played the first entry, and a harsh woman's voice spoke from the tiny speaker. _"This is Justicar Custodian Circe. I hereby permit my charge, Manah T'soni, to make use of this device as a log of all she finds here on Caleston, with the understanding that everything recorded within it becomes the property of the Justicar Order. Do you understand, T'soni?"_

_Another voice, soft and young, answered: "...Yes, I understand completely."_

_"Then speak."_

_"Very well...Entry 1: I've already inspected Dr Lanteia's research notes and I've already identified their main problem. They assumed the Undercity was built in the 87th Era, due to it's architecture. The murals, however, are obviously done in the bas-relief style of the 107th Era and-"_

Bau skipped to the latest entry._ "Entry 31... The foreman gave us the new code to the express elevator. Shouldn't be too hard to remember... four, five, zero, one, one, zero, five, four... and there. Memorized. Oh... Oh no! I probably shouldn't have said it aloud... h-how do you erase entries on this thing? Circe is going to be so mad..." _

Bau smiled. "There you have it, this should make our trip down the pit a bit faster."

From the audio-log came three knocks on a pane of glass. _"What? Who could... Noel? What are you doing here?"_

_"Hey, I wanted to see you again! Is this a bad time?" _The voice was male, young, probably in his late teens.

_"No, but- Hey! don't come in here!"_

_"Why? Are the scary ladies in red around?" _

_"They're right outside!"_

_"Then we'll have to be very very quiet, then. I came to give you this."_

_"Fine, but you have to... oh, i-is that a book?"_

_"Yeah, you said you loved storybooks, and I managed to dig this out of our attic. My mom used to read this to me. It's called The Little Prince."_

_"Oh, thank you...but, I can't take it. I can't have anything of my own! Please, I beg you, you must forget about me and stop..."_

_"But, I want you to have it!..."_

_"NO! DON'T COME ANY CLOSER!"_

_"What is going on here!?" shouted Circe. "Who are you, alien?!"_

_"Uh oh, gotta bail!" quipped Noel. "See ya!"_

_"Run, Noel!"_

_"You, catch him!" ordered Circe ordered._

_"I'd like to see you try!" Noel's laugh became distant, and another woman cursed in frustration in an untranslatable language._

_"Please, he's just a boy!"_

_**"O Geis, phionósú an gceann seo -" **_

_"No..."_

_**"- agus a dheonú ar an leibhéal seachtú fulaingt aici!"** _

Williams' eyes widened "What _was_ that? Freakin' _Voodoo?_"

Jondum Bau put his finger on his lip, silently asking her to be quiet.

_T'soni screamed horribly, then whimpered, and choked back tears. "I-I'm sorry... please make it stop!"_

_"...It gives me no pleasure to do this, Creature. But pain is the only way to stop your evil nature from coming to the fore... You seduced that boy, I could see it in his eyes."_

_"N-no... we just... spoke..."_

_"And now we must find him and save him from your dark influence, as the Sutras ordain. His death, and any death that follow, will be on your head, not ours. Stay here, Creature, and dwell on that fact as the Geis does its work."_

Anderson, Vega and Williams said nothing as Bau switched off the recording of Manah's sobs and pocketed it. Williams glanced at the trash bin, thinking about that book. It was Vega that broke the heavy silence.

"Jeez, talk about overreacting... What the hell was that all about? Some kid wants to give a girl a present and they try and kill him? And torture a girl for turning heads... This is all kinds of fucked up."

"And here I thought the Asari were so very enlightened," said Williams scornfully. "I don't know who the fuck those Justicars are..." Her mind dwelled on her younger sisters, and she imagined someone doing that to them. "...but if I ever meet one she's getting a face full of buckshot. Mark my words."

"...Let's just get out of here." said Anderson. "We've wasted enough time as it is. Move out, Marines."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the Normandy team arrived at the metal edge of the dig site, Anderson looked down, careful not to fall in the twelve kilometer drop. Apparently, RedWater thought that guardrails were an unacceptable luxury. He turned back to his men, save for Jenkins, who was tasked with staying with the Mako. Up above the storm raged on, and its interference prevented communication with the Normandy. <em>Damn that storm,<em> Anderson thought.

"Well," said Bau. "How shall we proceed, Captain?"

"We could take the elevator," suggested Wrex. "We've got the code, after all, but the Geth and the Templars might be in full control of it, and if not they'll definitely be waiting for us at the bottom, or will have trapped it."

"We could jump in with the Mako, sir." suggested Vega. "It was made to handle orbital drops, after all."

It took a few seconds for Anderson to make his decision, but before he could say anything, the sound of high-powered thrusters rumbled through the stormy sky, and out of nowhere fell a heavy red Wanzer, with huge vernier thrusters mounted on its back and a huge clod of sharpened metal in its hand. It swung at the Mako, and it flew off and crashed into a nearby construction crane. The Red Wanzer opened it's mouth, and a globe of hot plasma gathered inside of it.

Caim had arrived.

_**"Come, Alliance dogs." **_said the fearsome Wanzer's pilot. **"_Show me what the so-called guardians of humanity can do... for I long for good sport..."_**

Anderson had only one thing to say: "To the elevator! NOW!"

And from its mouth the Red Wanzer unleashed hell upon them all.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You wanted something to shoot, Spirit?" shouted Ryan as he fired his M-358 Talon pistol into a Geth hopper's face. His Omni-Shield held fast against the bursts of warp ammo the Geth soldier's pulse rifles spat out, but only because he kept tapping into his Omni-Gel reserves to repair the damage. "Well, there you go! Go nuts!"<p>

"I would!" shouted Jane over the din of gunfire. "But those bastards Sabotaged my Vector! All I've got is my sidearm!"

A Templar Sniper's head exploded, and Garrus whooped victoriously as he loaded another chemical round into the Greatsword. "Thank you for standing still, idiot! That's twelve! How many did you get, Grey?"

"If Zorah's correct..." He fired a charged shot into the chest of the Juggernaut coordinating the Geth's efforts, and its torso melted into slag. "I'd say about two thousand! T'soni! How's that puzzle coming along?"

"I-I'm almost- AH!"

A Geth Hopper leaped at Manah, and Jensen caught it by the throat before it could reach her. He wrestled it to the ground and buried his suit's plasma claws into its chest, ripping out a cord with glowing blue power cells plugged into it like bulbs of garlic on a string and promptly discarded it. Manah tried to keep her hands steady: she had never solved a Prothean geometrical puzzle while under attack by _robots_ before.

"Just a few more moves and... Done!" She pushed and buried the glowing sphere into the center of the Mandala, and set a course for the Ziggurat. "Everyone, get on!"

The stone petals above opened, and the platform rose slowly. Jane and Ryan, who had been outside of it, had to jump and mantle themselves onto the floating piece of rock. Garrus and Jensen helped them up while Grey rained down covering fire.

"Gee, Thanks for you waiting for us, _T'soni_." said Jane, a little peeved.

"...Err, you are welcome?"

"I was being _sarcastic_."

"Oh. Oh! I'm sorry, but I panicked and..."

"No harm done," said Ryan. "We're out of that hell hole, and that's what matters. Thank you, T'soni."

"...Are you being sarcastic?"

Ryan laughed. "No, no, I mean it."

"Three Seraphs, incoming!" shouted Jensen as he pulled out his revolver. He fanned the hammer, firing a quick six round burst at the two flying Templars, but their barriers held. Garrus managed to shoot one out of the sky by hitting him in the verniers, but the other two managed to rise above the floating platform. One of them aimed a grenade launcher at the Durendal team and fired.

For Adam, time slowed down as the Quicksilver kicked in. He drew out the Carnifex he picked up earlier and fired a round into the explosive slug just as it left the wide barrel. The grenade, filled with White-Phosphorus, exploded in a ball of white gas, consuming the flying grenadier, who went down screaming. The last remaining Seraph roared, intent on avenging his fallen comrade. He flew in and rammed Jensen with his body, wrestling him down on the platform, straddling him. Jane attempted to bury her hatchet in his face, but the Templar shoved her off. Before Jensen could shove the Fandago in the Seraph's belly, the Templar's head fell off, and the body slumped over like a puppet with its strings cut off. Garrus stood over them both, the Longinus in sword mode in hand.

"You could have just shot him." said Jensen as he pushed the body off. "But thanks."

"I only have so many shots." He held out his hand and helped Jensen get up. "Say what you want about those sword-guns of theirs, they do save ammo in a pinch. And you're welcome."

The platform had risen twelve stories above the ground and floated towards the Ziggurat, Grey had everyone double check their weapons. He swapped out his Serpent's empty power-cell for a full one, while Jane set about fixing her Vector. Ryan, curious about the workings of the platform, decided to take a scan of it.

"Huh."

"What is it?" asked Grey.

"I'm not getting any Element Zero readings from this thing. How does it float?"

Everyone turned to Manah, who became flustered at the sudden attention. "I do not know," she said. "I am an expert on their history, not their science."

Grey shrugged. "Well, as long as it works and gets us where we're supposed to go."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The floating platform settled inside a half-circle cut into a raised rostrum, meant to serve as a dock. The entrance to the Ziggurat was just a long staircase away, and welcoming the Deep Eyes were huge metal double doors made out of some kind of bronze, both four stories tall. They had been molded with the bas-relief of twin blacksmiths hammering a sword on an anvil, while seven thunderbolts struck it from above.<p>

"Kind of old fashioned, these Protheans." commented Grey. "T'soni, any ideas as to how to get this door open? I don't want to have to walk three kilometers around this thing just to find another way in."

"We could just knock?" quipped Garrus.

"Quiet, Vakarian. T'soni?"

"There should be emergency switches on each side of the doors," said Jensen. The Deep Eyes and Manah glared at him curiously. "Well, it seems logical."

"...There are." agreed Manah.

"I don't see them." said Jane as she looked at the sides of the doors.

"Look up."

"Aw, crap. All the way up there, huh?"

"I am afraid so."

"Spirit, Shadow, you're both good at climbing things." said Grey. "Get up there."

Adam and Jane proceeded to climb the walls on each side of the door, the complex detailing providing plenty of good gripping points for a climb. Jane had tried to make a race out of it, but thought better to challenge a cyborg in a power suit to anything remotely physical.

"C-Careful!" Manah shouted from below, worried that they would fall and hurt themselves.

"We'll be fine!" reassured Jane. "We're up to the levers. Now what?"

"You will have to pull the cylinders, rotate them clockwise, and push them back in simultaneously."

It took a bit longer for Jane to pull the cylinder, and she had to put her whole body into it. "On three, we push!" she commanded. "One, two..."

They pushed the cylinders in, causing the emergency hydraulics to make the doors open out. Waiting on the other side was a mob of dead people, shambling, staying upright by the virtue of cables and implants that glowed a sickly blue. Their eyes and eyelids had been scorched away, replaced by metallic orbs. Their gaping, gurgling distented mouths were filled with cables that connected to various points in their chests. Manah screamed, having never seen such horrible creatures before. They charged out of the gate, their arms outstretched and grasping for anything living to squeeze the life out of.

Grey, Garrus and Ryan opened fire into the small mob immediately, stemming the tide of bodies by shooting them in the legs, making the creatures fall over each other. Jensen jumped from the switch to the top of the door, then leapt down into the mob. His Icarus landing system activated, but he overrode it and funneled the EM field into his fist. A burst of kinetic energy announced his landing, and the living corpses were scattered all over, their bodies broken. The few that survived the blast were easily finished off.

"What the hell are those?!" asked Jane as she fired a burst into the skull of the last cyborg zombie.

"Husks." said Grey. "Hein briefed us about them, remember?"

"Right, but those were naked, these..."

"...Were once RedWater workers." said Garrus, pointing at their clothes. "And by the look of those ones over there, Templar scientists."

Jensen stood over the broken, desiccated bodies, and Garrus picked up on that. "Err... anybody you knew in there?"

...

_"There has to be a way to help these people!"_

_"Yeah. You give them the mercy of a bullet to the head!"_

_..._

"...No." Adam replied.

"Then why are you staring?"

"It's just..." Adam shook his head. "No, it's nothing."

Garrus knew better than to pry, and left it alone.

"I think Benezia's running out of options: she's scraping the bottom of the barrel, now." Grey said confidently.

A gust of wind rushed out of the door, and the evil laughter of a woman echoed. Manah whimpered at the sound.

"...Yeah. Let's not kid ourselves." said Garrus. "She sent out these... things to screw with our heads."

"Load some fresh ammo blocks in your weapons, everyone... because this is it, the last stretch: third of a klick to the artifact. Shadow? Paladin?"

"Sir?" answered Ryan.

"You two take point."

The Durendal team crossed the threshold of the gates, and the doors closed behind them. There was no turning back now.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The elevator's doors opened, and out came a crowd of Husks, as Shepard described them to Anderson... only fully clothed. Wrex, Bau and Anderson gunned them down, and they were forced to clear out some of the bodies to make room. That took time, precious time that Jenkins was buying them by the skin of his teeth.<p>

The Mako II had, amazingly, survived the Wanzer's initial attack and landed on its wheels, so Jenkins had switched the controls to single pilot mode and began a furious counter-attack. Right now he was harassing the _Wyvern _with both Auto-cannon and heavy machine gun fire that simply wouldn't breach its impressive kinetic shields. The Mako dodged and weaved through the makeshift roads of the settlement as the red giant destroyed every single prefab Jenkins could use as cover.

_"Yeah, come on! Eat Tungsten, you prick!"_

As Wrex cleared the last of the bodies out of the elevator. Williams activated her suit radio. "Jenkins, come on! The elevator's up!"

"Belay that." said Anderson, his voice cold.

Williams looked at Anderson in horror. "...S-sir?"

"Vega, Taylor, get in the elevator... Jenkins, keep harassing the Wanzer, buy us some time."

_"I... I understand, sir. You make Benezia pay for her part in Eden Prime, sir!"_

"We will, son. Mark my words, We will."

"Sir!" protested Vega. "I'm trained in anti-armor tactics! I can help him!"

Anderson entrained the notion for half a second before dismissing it: That Wanzer was simply too powerful and attempting to destroy it on foot was suicide. He had done the math. The mission came first. He needed to put as much distance between the giant machine and his team, or they would die and the mission would be a failure.

And Saren would win. The thought alone set Anderson's heart on fire.

"That thing is a monster! You're no match for it, none of us are! Get in the elevator, Marine. That's an order!"

"But..."

"GET IN THE ELEVATOR NOW!" Anderson roared. Vega was taken aback by the glare of his red optical sensors, and he obeyed.

No one said anything as the mag-rail elevator accelerated down into the depths of Caleston, and Jenkins' radio transmissions became more and more scrambled with static.

_"Come on!... I'm ... over here!... try ...catch...argh!...all... got?..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Spirit? Spirit, where are you?" Grey called out to her, but got no response.<p>

The Durendal Team had come across another locked door, and T'soni got to work on unlocking it. He had just ordered everyone to keep the area secured when he realized that she had gone missing. How could he have been that unobservant? He chided himself mentally at his failure. He tried contacting her on the radio, but it was no use.

"Vakarian, you were with her just a moment ago! Did you see her leave?"

"I was a little too busy scanning the area for Husks... like you ordered me to."

He was right, of course. In the tall and wide main hall they had seen more of these impalement spikes the Geth used to create Husks, and they had counted far more of those than the number in the mob that greeted them at the entrance. The thought that Jane had been killed by one of these things - or worse been turned into one of them - horrified him.

"She always too stealthy for her own good." said Ryan. "Shall we look for her?"

"Do we really have time for that? Benezia's doing spirits knows what to that artifact, and the ground's starting to rumble again. This building is huge, if we get sidetracked..."

Grey grabbed him by the collar and glared at him with his glowing blue optics. His voice was low. "I don't care if the whole galaxy_ burns_. I'm not leaving any of my soldiers behind, under any circumstances."

"I'll go find her." said Jensen, defusing the situation. "I've got an advanced sensor suite: I can cover more ground."

"Do it." commanded Grey.

"Grey, if I find her dead... What do you want me to do?"

"... then bring me her dogtags."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jane tried to tell herself that it wasn't possible. But she saw what she saw, and she needed to be sure. She had skulked off when no one was looking, just to check it out, and then she'd come right back, or so she told herself a dozen times over.<p>

The dark, silent rooms of the Ziggurat hadn't quite been what she expected: she had thought that this was someone's palace, but after seeing the various primitive tools on the tables and diagrams on the walls, Jane decided that this place looked more like one big workshop. Or even a school.

And somewhere within these walls, Tiffany was around here somewhere. But Tiffany had died on Mars... That didn't stop Jane from catching a glimpse of her pale skin and long dark hair. And after a few more minutes of wandering, she caught another glimpse of her going down that hall. She followed her there, but it led to a dead end.

She heard the sound of bare feet hitting the stone floor, and she turned around, knife and hatchet in-

...Where were her hatchets? She thought she had them, but-

"Jane..." whispered the curvaceous, yet powerful figure in front of her. She was nude, pale like the moon and covered in splatters of dark, dry blood. Her eyes were as black as her hair... but it was her. And while the vision should have brought Jane such joy, it was terror that gripped her heart, and the strength left her limbs.

"T...Tiffany?..."

"Yes... it's me..."

"No. No no no no... I saw..." Jane whimpered, "I saw you die!"

"Shhhh, it's okay..." Tiffany slowly approached.

"Get away from me!..."

"I forgive you..."

"Stay back!"

"I forgive you for leaving be behind."

Tiffany took a step forward.

"I forgive you for moving on..."

Tiffany took a step forward...

"But what I can't forgive..."

Tiffany took another step, and the skin on her arms melted to reveal bones of black metal, wrapped in barbed wire as her face contorted and twisted with pure rage.

_**"...is **_**you****_ suffering that _machine_ to LIVE!"_**

Tiffany grabbed Jane by the throat and forced her on her knees, and the soldier could feel her claws sinking slowly into her neck seal.

_**"Did you like what you see, as rivulets of water caressed the black plastic carved into his flesh?! Did you forget what his kind did to me, after they tore me out of my Wanzer?! Or did you look away, even as you played dead while they ravaged my body and soul?!"**_

"I..." Jane choked. "I would never forget..."

_**"So claim your revenge for my sake and kill him!"**_

"...Blind revenge is for fools... Tiffany... I loved you...more than you know..." Jane's eyes bled out the tears she thought would be her last "...but I won't murder for you."

A moment of silence passed before the ghostly apparition spoke again with a voice boiling over with venom. _**"Then DIE, you filthy little DYKE."**_

Tiffany squeezed a bit harder, and Jane's sight went black...

_Bang_.

The Husk's head exploded, and he slumped forward, then fell by Jane's side. She massaged her neck as she gasped for air. Jensen knelt beside her to see if she was okay, his revolver still smoking at the barrel.

"Jane?"

"Jensen?" W-what happened? How did I even get here? How did you find me?"

"You were letting a Husk strangle you." he pointed at the fallen Husk, wearing a Templar's lab coat. "You wandered off, and I found you by following the trail of weapons you left behind. Here they are."

Jensen handed Jane's weapons back and she re-equipped them.

"Who's Tiffany?"

"Who?"

"Tiffany; you called that Husk by that name."

"...It's... it's personal. You don't talk about Elysium? I don't talk about Mars...but, one of its ghosts reappeared before me."

"...Fair enough. He tapped the side of his helmet, contacting the rest of the Deep Eyes. "Grey? Jane's fine... but I think Benezia tried to pull a mind-screw on her."

_"Oh, thank god she's alright. Get back here! T'soni's almost got this thing... Paladin? PALADIN, STOP!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Welcome to Hell, Ryan..." said the Black Queen.<em>

He was back home, the ground burnt to cinders as an inferno blazed around him. Embers hung in the wait, blown by the hot air. And there were the children. Children on fire. Even as the flesh melted off the bones of their tiny bodies, their hate, that terrifying hate kept them running, and they were intent of sharing their agony with him.

_"They've been waiting for YOU... won't you give them a warm embrace?"_ _she laughed cruelly._

Ryan fired his Talon wildly, terrified out of his mind. The burning, hateful children vanished into ash as he hit them, but their damning howls remained, echoing in his mind.

_**"YOU did this to us!"**_

"I tried to stop it!"

_Snap out of it marine_

_**"The weapon was in your hands!"**_

"I... I had no choice."

_It's not real_

_**"We were your brothers and you made us burn!"**_

"They... they..."

_She's messing with your mind pull yourself together_

Ryan fell on his knees, and let the children embrace him in the flames. The pain was unimaginable.

He put his hands together.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake... Yea... Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death..."

It was getting hotter.

"...I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. T-Thou, preparest a... table before me in the presence of mine enemies: Thou anointest my head with...oil; m-my...my..."

_"Your words are empty of belief and power. Did you think prayer would free you from your guilt? From me? Abandon all hope... Oathbreaker... Murderer. There is no forgiveness in the heart of a dead god for the likes of **YOU.**"_

"I have... never prayed for myself... but for the grace of the souls I have sent to hell... You have... no power over me, demon."

_**"Wrong."**_

The flames intensified, and Ryan lost all hope. But then, even as his eyes melted from the heat, Ryan caught a glimpse of a robed figure striding towards him, with teal and green lights hovering around it. The man stood within the inferno untouched by the flames, and perhaps, Ryan thought, the angels had seen fit to save him after all.

And then the figure struck him in the face.

...

"Snap out of it!" shouted Jensen as he shook Ryan by the shoulders.

"What?" muttered Ryan confused. He looked around, and he was back in the Ziggurat, only there were clusters of holes all over the walls. "The flames! The flames! Where are they?"

"There are no flames! Benezia's messing with your head!"

"I... I knew, and yet... Oh god..."

"Was it Mars?" asked Jane.

"...No. Not Mars. Something else. I... I think I'll be okay, now."

"Will you?" asked Grey.

"...For now, yeah. I'm sorry sir. I lost control."

Grey put a hand on his shoulder. "We weren't trained for this, don't blame yourself. T'soni!"

Manah peeked out of a pillar. "I-is it over?"

"...Yeah. Just finish unlocking that door..." When Jensen had returned from the Alienage spewing nonsense about Benezia being some of kind of super-psionic capable of whipping up a whole crowd into a crazed frenzy, he had been skeptical. But then Jane supported that statement, and T'soni confirmed it... but even then there was a shadow of a doubt. Not anymore.

"I have a few choice words to say to your mother, if you don't mind."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As they came out of the elevator into the last stretch of the Pit's spiral staircase, Ashley shot Wrex in the back, then Vega's. Then she aimed her shotgun at Anderson's head and screamed.<p>

_**"My family has served the Alliance for generations with loyalty and valor and all YOU DO IS SPIT ON OUR NAME!"**_

She pulled the trigger, but she had already been Thrown back into the elevator by Wrex's biotics and the shot went wide.

"You shot me in the back, you bitch!" he roared. To his surprise, she was conscious, even though she left a dent in the elevator's metal cage.

_**"Will you sic me onto danger like a dog while you flee?!" **_her eyes glowed a sickly purple and crimson.**_ "Is that what awaits me in the end?!"_**

Bau silently fired a Neural Shock dart into her neck, and she went limp like a rag doll. Taylor checked up on Vega. His Defender had absorbed the impact, and he managed to get back up with some help, wincing in pain.

"Man, that stung like a motherf-"

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't crush that bitch's head with my boot!" screamed Wrex, livid at being shot by friendly fire.

"It's Benezia!" answered Bau. "The Prothean artifact is no doubt amplifying her melding abilities, somehow! We cannot delay any further!"

"Don't give me any of that space magic garbage!"

"What possible reason could Williams have to murder you, Vega and _Anderson_ of all people? Only Benezia stands to benefit from us turning on another. You should stay focused on the task at hand." Bau was careful to word his command as a suggestion - It was never wise for a Salarian to be too authoritative with a Krogan.

"...Fine." said Wrex as he backed off. "But just so you know, I'm getting paid double on account of the dents on my back! So what do we do with her? I'm not carrying her backstabbing, deadweight ass!"

"None of us can." said Anderson. "Taylor, tie her up and make sure she doesn't hurt herself when she wakes up."

"We're... leaving her behind? Sir, if there are any more of those Husks out there..."

Anderson was starting to get a little fed up with justifying his orders to his subordinates.

"We can't face Benezia and worry about her at the same time, _Lieutenant._"

"I... understood, sir. I'll lock her in the cage while I'm at it." Taylor silently flash-cuffed Williams and closed the door.

"And then there were five." quipped Vega, darkly.

Anderson ignored him. As he started the descent down to the source of the beam, Benezia's dark influence began to dig into his mind. He didn't know it, but he kept her at bay by focusing on his hatred: He would make Benezia pay for her part in Eden Prime, and once he was done with her he would make Saren pay for his. He would pay for Camala, and he would pay for Shepard. He was convinced Saren had a part in her death, regardless of the obfuscating fog that surrounded the facts behind it. He was certain of it.

...He was certain of it. Saren had to be guilty. He had to be.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Mako II was done. Finished. The Red Wanzer was done toying around with Jenkins, and had unleashed a payload of sixty micro-missiles from its shoulders. Jenkins hadn't veered in time, and the Mako's shields were overwhelmed. One of the missiles exploded beneath the IFV, sending it flying into a nearby prefab.<p>

Jenkins pulled himself from the wreck. His right side hurt like hell: he felt as though his ribs were broken and were poking at his lungs. His suit's VI confirmed the damage. If only he could get some Medi-Gel in there, but his Onyx mk II wasn't equipped with a First Aid system let alone gel conduits. On top of all his troubles, his helmet's visor was cracked, marring his vision.

As he removed his helmet, he heard the hiss of a Wanzer's cockpit opening, and the loud thud of a man landing on his feet. He turned to find the Wanzer pilot confidently walking up to him, his power-suit's chest deprived of all armor plating save for the gauntlets and the disc-shaped cowters, the CNT cables exposed. Jenkins couldn't believe his luck: The Templar was intent on finishing him off personally, and with a sword, no less. It was a huge sword, but Jenkins had a gun.

_I just might come out of this in one piece._

The Alliance soldier withdrew his Predator sidearm, switched on the laser sight, took aim at the Templar's head, and pulled the trigger three times.

And each time, the Templar blocked the shot with his wide, curved blade.

Jenkins fired again and again, but the pilot's honed reflexes (aided by Jenkins' own mistake in declaring his shots with a laser beam) prevented each shot from finding their mark. The pilot laughed cruelly, and strode even faster towards the young soldier.

After twelve shots, the gun went into cooldown, and Jenkins attempted to insert a rod of coolant into the overheated weapon, but then pain shot up his arm, and he looked at the smoking stump of his left hand in shock - The pilot had been so fast...

Jenkins screamed, but the pilot wasn't even close to done with him: he kicked him in the knee, causing the soldier's leg to bend backwards. He grabbed him by the throat, slammed his head against the ruined armor of the Mako, and held him up against it. Jenkins had a good look at the Templar: he was young, in his mid to late twenties, with a messy mop of black hair. His face was tanned and marred with a few scars, the most prominent of which cut across the bridge of his nose.

"I congratulate you, Marine." said the Pilot. "You've led me on a merry little chase. It was good sport... while it _lasted_. Hmph... What is your name?"

Jenkins grit his teeth, intent on taking the pain. "Corporal Richard L. Jenkins, Alliance military. ID code One, one-"

"Spare me. This is no interrogation. So... I've decided to reward you, Richard L. Jenkins of the Alliance military. It is the reward of _all_ who are conquered. I... am going to let you live."

The pilot pressed his white hot blade against Jenkins' eyes and swiped it across, blinding him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"... in woe and suffering!" shouted Caim venomously as he let go of the corporal.<p>

Jenkins screamed in terrible agony, and Caim simply stared at him while he writhed on the ground. Suffering, Caim believed, was like water: obedient to gravity and longing to fall and settle in the lower, darker places of the world. Inflicting suffering unto others below allowed him to keep his head above it, and not dwell overlong on the butchery that had been Mindoir... and the death of his family.

He was sorely tempted to silence the screaming marine permanently, however; He had a most grating, nasal voice made worse by bawling... but then the Black Queen made her presence known, stalling his bloodlust.

_**"Caim..." **_she spoke ethereally in his mind. **_"The interlopers approach. Do not tarry and come to my aid... my champion."_**

"As you wish, my Queen." answered Caim, not knowing nor caring if she could hear him. He turned his back on the whimpering Alliance soldier. "You are fortunate, Corporal! You still have your life. Your compatriots? They won't be so lucky..."

He climbed back into _Angelus_. "I guarantee you that they will die, screaming harder than you did!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Durendal team had finally arrived at the heart of the Ziggurat, a four-story tall circular chamber one hundred meter across. Its floor was patterned with a complex array of interlocking of Mandalas carved into dark gray stone. The entire room was colored blue by the gloom of the bio-luminescent mushrooms that grew onto ancient statues of a winged, horned woman, mounted on the walls. Their looming figures highlighted in red-orange by the burning shaft of light generated by the Monolith at the center. The Prothean artifact, a five meter tall piece of sculpted alabaster with silver inlays, stood in the middle of a circle of arches, itself fifty meters across. Hundreds of little streaks of blue light rushed to its base, while tongues of flames sprouted from its top. Glowing embers surrounded it, flying under the sway of a whirlwind.<p>

There was something about the monolith... It's low hum seemed to vibrate with an emptiness inside Jensen, close to his heart, and he felt as though the artifact would somehow fill that void and make him more complete, somehow. Was it Benezia messing with his mind again, trying to lure him into a trap? The thought made him resist the urge to run up to the Monolith and touch it.

"Oh, no..." muttered T'soni as they approached the arches. "The monolith - It's ajar!"

"We noticed," said Grey. "Part of our job is getting it open to get to the goods inside, remember?"

"No, you don't understand! There's a proper procedure in handling active Prothean technology, and whoever did this violated the most basic of them all!"

"Which is?"

"To switch the main power off _before_ opening it! This could be cata-"

When Manah failed to finish her sentence, Jensen turned to her. She was completely frozen in place, with a blue aura washing over her like the shifting water of a pool.

"What the-" Garrus couldn't finish his sentence before he was frozen in place himself, and then the entire Durendal team save Jensen had been put in stasis.

_**"Come closer, Adam." **_The voice, an amalgam of two women, resonated through the room like a whisper. **_"I long to see you in the flesh."_**

Jensen attempted to snap Garrus out of Stasis, but without Biotics of his own it was futile. It looked like he would be alone for this.

Benezia appeared in a rush of coalescing shadow and smoke in front of the Prothean monolith, her figure a dark silhouette against the bright red orange glow. She wore little save a black choker to match a black silk gown cut open to expose her abdomen and her inner halves of her breasts. A mask of gleaming dark blue metal covered her face just above the lower lip, and her eyes were pools of black obsidian. Spiral seashells, colored dark purple with flecks of crimson could be seen under the shawl that covered the head and blended with the gown.

The sight of her... he had seen her before. A feeling of deja-vu crawled in the back of Adam's mind, but he mentally shook it off, focusing on the here and now.

_**"Ah, but you are a fascinating construct... And powerful, I can tell..." **_her voices subtly enticed on many levels, promising untold pleasures even as she did not speak of them. "**_Tell me...Why have you come here?" _**she asked as he approached.

"I made a deal with someone to save a life. Clearly, I should have read the fine print."

_**"Is she your love?"**_

"No, but considering you can read minds, you already knew that."

_**"Ah, but you are SUCH a tantalizing mystery to me... You could have left, and yet you still brave the dangers of the Undercity to be here. So I ask again, and you must answer truthfully. Why... have you come here? You could have left... why stay?"**_

It didn't take long for Jensen to dig deep and come up with a much more honest answer, straight from the heart. Yes, he could have left, could have convinced everyone in the truck that leaving would be the best option, but...

"I stayed because you're the reason this planet has gone to hell, and you must be _stopped_."

_**"Ah, there it is, the righteous anger..." **_she walked around him like water, caressing his shoulder while appraising him. Jensen kept his sight fixed on her wary of any sudden movement.**_ "Do you know what I did, Adam? I merely provided what everyone desired. Is it my fault that the miners desired an end to their toils? That their masters desired to keep what they took from them? That the young and impoverished desired what their parent's masters had? That their parents wanted to drink and fuck with wild abandon? Is it my fault that Templars, in their arrogance, desired dominion over a whole world with a handful to seize it? That their champion craved blood more than control? No... I am not responsible for their wants."_**

"But you are responsible for them going out of control." countered Jensen. At this, Benezia - no, the Black Queen - laughed cruelly.

"Let's skip the part where you offer me everything I've ever wanted, and let's get down to _my_ demand: _surrender_ and come quietly."

"Oh, but I have more to offer than dreams of a house on a hill... my Adam." she passed behind him, and Aya Brea came into view.

"I can make your reality, far, FAR more blissful..." she tapped the side of his helmet, causing the faceplate to open, and she caressed his upper lip. "She would have never loved you, you know? She had made her loathing for you very clear... But I can turn her heart... Or perhaps?..."

Aya's pale skin and elegant clothes exploded in streams of shadow and smoke, and gathered into the shape of an olive-skinned woman clad in an orange and gray flight suit.

"Or perhaps you'd like to resume the affair you entertained even as you desperately searched for your Dulcinea?" asked Faridah. Adam tried his best to hide the shock seeing her again after all these years. "Or maybe..." She exploded into smoke, and it gathered back into the shape of a gaunt man in a leather jacket and a long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. He opened his arms, presenting himself.

"Or maybe you'd like to indulge in unspoken fantasies?" said Pritchard. "No... that's not for you... You want something else besides companionship..."

Pritchard morphed to a woman in a white silver coat, with her brown hair tied back in an elaborate explosion of curled hair. Jensen's breath stilled at the sight. Of all the people to see, here and now...

"No...you want to turn the clock back, and take back your worst mistake..." said Megan, caressing Adam's cheek. "I forgive you, Adam... I forgive what you did to me... become my champion, my knight, and we can have a future together, just like you always wanted..."

...

_"...You were nothing more than a science project to me."_

_..._

"You have nothing that I want."

Jensen's faceplate closed as he slapped her hand away, his decision made. Megan morphed back into the Black Queen, and while her expression was hidden by the Masque, he could _feel_ the fury emanating from it. She floated away from him, rising to loom overhead.

_**"Again, you deny me!? **_**I****_, who has seduced the immortal Akasha Lords themselves?! _I_, who tempted the Mesian high priests from their Machine Idol?! I, who sundered EMPIRES with naught but a whisper?! You are NOTHING compared to them, and you are nothing compared to ME! So be it!" _**She screeched to the heavens:**_ "CAAAAIIIIM!"_**

The roar of thrusters thundered above, fast approaching. Jensen looked up, and leapt out of the way of the falling red form. The huge machine landed on its two feet with a loud crash, and as his own feet touched the ground Jensen immediately recognized the Red Wanzer that he had encountered immediately after he crash-landed on Caleston. It rose, staring at him with its bright blue optic, it's mouth open, ready to spew plasma at him.

_"Abomination!" _challenged the pilot through his Wanzer's loudspeakers, _"I've awaited impatiently for a chance to finish what we've started! Have at you!"_

Jensen deployed the Fandango and charged towards the man-shaped war machine.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Holy shit!" exclaimed Vega. "Was that...?"<p>

"The Wanzer, yes." confirmed Bau.

"It just ignored us..." commented Taylor.

Gunfire and explosions echoed down below. "Someone's fighting down there!" shouted Anderson.

"Who else could be down there?" asked Vega.

"Whoever they are," replied Wrex, "Then they're hogging all the fun! Let's hurry!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen took cover behind a pillar - his attempt at negating most of the Wanzer's firepower by entering close-quarters had backfired dramatically when the pilot decided that yes, machine guns and mid-caliber auto-cannons were better ways to deal with a power-armored infantryman. Adam threw his last Snowblind grenade at the Wanzer, intent on robbing the <em>Wyvern<em> of most of its sensor suite. To his utter shock, the Wanzer was quick enough to _catch_ it.

_"Not this time!"_ shouted the pilot victoriously as his machine's metal fist crushed the grenade. It 'popped' harmlessly inside its palm, and the Snowblind particles spread to an area far too small to be of use. There would be no cloaking for Jensen: a Wanzer's active sensors could spot the EM field of a cloak far too easily. He was pinned down.

On the other hand, the stone arches withstood the gunfire easily. In fact, the stone wasn't even chipping. The Wanzer's pilot lost patience, and decided to destroy both the arches and Jensen with an overhead swing of the giant clod of metal that served as the bipedal war machine's sword.

_"You think mere stone will protect you from me?!" _ the pilot shouted as the Wanzer dashed forward and brought the mighty weapon down. It made a loud metallic thud as it hit the stone, and the Wanzer was knocked back by the force of its own blow being reflected back at it. Jensen, knowing that the pilot wouldn't be stupid enough to make the same mistake twice, saw his chance to climb onto of the Wanzer and pull his opponent out of the cockpit.

He was just about to bury his wrist-mounted high-frequency blade in the Wanzer's chest when Benezia's biotic bolt hit him from above, knocking him down back on the floor, giving the Red Wanzer a golden opportunity to stomp him flat, which it took immediately.

Jensen rolled away from the incoming metal foot, and jumped back up on his feet. Benezia floated next to the Wanzer's head, caressing it like a pet.

_**"Give me your fire."**_ she commanded, and gentle plumes of plasma rolled out of its mouth. Benezia's body flared, generating eight micro-singularities around the Wanzer's head. They drew in the plasma, and quickly the black spheres wreathed in reddish-purple flames became _tiny suns. _Benezia outstretched her arms, and the Wanzer's own Mass Effect core contributed to the feat by propelling the balls of plasma at Jensen, one by one.

Jensen managed to dodge seven, the last had exploded a little too close, and he could _feel_ both the heat and the eddies of dark energy wash over him. If he had been just a little close, he would have been torn apart and vaporized at the same time.

_**"You are quick to save yourself, but are you quick enough..." **_Benezia fired the last ball of energy at - to Jensen's horror - The frozen Durendal team. **_"To save THEM?"_**

With little time to think, Jensen ran full speed at them, outrunning the fireball, but as he stood in front of them, he realized that there was nothing he could do to save them. Even with his considerable strength, moving a person in Stasis was downright impossible. They were doomed, and he would die as well unless he moved out of the way. He had to move out of the way; if he died now, then Benezia would win, and she would do god knows what with the Prothean relic.

_No._

_You can save them. Think, Jensen! How do you stop a ball of plasma? How do you stop a ball of biotics! There has to be a way!_

He took a quick glance behind him. Manah was right behind him, frozen with an expression of surprise.

_..._

_He quickly overrode his Icarus Landing System and switched it on, intent on softening the landing to spare Manah's relatively fragile bones. They were both wrapped in a powerful golden electromagnetic field, and Manah gasped as the energy interacted with her nodes, causing them to flare and burst in a wide mass lightening field that wrapped the whole Durendal team._

_..._

_Shadow? Didn't know that Icarus Landing System of yours could extend that far."_

_"It doesn't." Jensen replied as he set Manah down._

_"I think that was me..." said Manah. _

...

Jensen activated and brought up the Pelta shield on his left elbow and braced himself. The ball of dark plasma was inches away from him when the torrent of electromagnetic energy stopped in its tracks. The plasma bled out, following the flow of the electromagnetic maelstrom in its way. Jensen knocked the Singularity away, and it detonated far away from him, the Deep Eyes, Garrus, and Manah. He barely had enough time to savor that small victory when the Red Wanzer suddenly appeared in front of him in a blue flash, its giant blade raised high. Time slowed down as the thick clod of metal came down on him. If he moved out of the way, what would happen to T'soni, in stasis or not?

...

_"Well, you should start thinking about using your O-Tools more." said Ryan. "Those things can be a real lifesaver. Trust me, I should know. That Omni-Armor feature alone should really increase your odds of survival the next time you enter close combat with Seraph wearers." _

_..._

Jensen set the 108's power output at one hundred percent. The suit's integrated Omni-Gel systems quickly conjured glowing plates of hardened gel around Jensen, and his body was covered in an armor of light. He brought his two gauntlets up above his head. As the three ton blade landed on the glowing plates, Jensen felt the considerable pressure buckle his knees, and he silently thanked Zorah's work on his knee actuator when he started pushing the blade back. The strain on his body and the power-suit was immense, but there he was, going toe-to-toe with a giant robot in a contest of strength.

Benezia brought her right hand up, then lowered it, and Jensen found himself struggling to lift the giant blade more and more.

He was losing.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As Benezia's power levels dropped, the Stasis field she had been maintaining around Manah had dissolved into nothing, and the young asari archaeologist felt gravity wash over body once again and she fell on her hands and knees. As she looked up she saw Shadow struggling to keep a giant sword wielded by the Red Dragon from cleaving them both in two.<p>

Shadow looked down at her. "Run."

"W-what?"

"I said run! This mission is a failure! I..." his knees started to bend and tremble, the floating golden plates of light started to flicker. "I can't keep this up forever. Run, save yourself!"

"No! I can't leave you here!"

_**"Oh, by all means, my dear, sweet thing." **_her mother laughed cruelly - had she ever heard her mother laugh? Manah wondered this briefly.**_ "Stay, stay and watch as his strength wanes and he perishes for your miserable little life! Stay, and learn this final lesson: No one will save you from me in the end! NO ONE! You are MINE, and shall keep you in a cage until you wither and die!"_**

Manah rose up, and stepped in front of the struggling dark-armored man and put her hands on the giant blade.

"He may not be able to save me, but I can save him!" Manah's body flared blue with an intensity that surprised even herself. She countered her mother's mass-increasing field over the blade, and pushed up with her own telekinesis, easing Shadow's burden considerably. "With the gifts you gave me!"

_**"You little... bitch! How DARE you defy me?!" **_The Black Queen floated upwards, and glowed red-purple as she brought both her hands down, a gesture that tripled the mass of the blade.**_ "I should have abandoned you in a ditch and left you as a dry-blooded little monster!"_**

"I..." Manah's could feel the Geas in her skull revolt at her surging biotics, but she ignored its lash.

"...am not..." She fed on the pain, and her body glowed brighter.

"...a MONSTER!"

A burst of blue light surged out of Manah, and Shadow easily lifted the blade with one hand, freeing the other to slice into it with his arm-mounted sword. The thick slab of metal flew off, and Shadow leapt at the giant machine's head, grabbed its brow for leverage, and punched it so hard and so fast that the barriers triggered. Undaunted, he punched it again and again and again, until the barriers lost all power and the metal caved in from the onslaught. Every impact sent the ambulant machine reeling backwards, and on the final blow it fell on its back while Shadow jumped away and landed on his hand and feet.

The Black Queen was livid, and screamed. _**"Fools! This is not a victory for you, not in the least!" **_Sixteen micro-singularities formed around her, and she rose her hand skywards, ready to project them. Both Shadow and Manah were winded by their struggles, and could barely move. After all this, were they still doomed?

The whistle of a rocket grew louder and louder, and Manah saw a plume of white smoke streak across her sight to strike and explode into the Black Queen's back. The barrier she had erected around herself soaked up nearly all of the force, but and was knocked out of the air. Her concentration ruined, the dark energy spheres dissolved, and the Deep Eyes were freed of their Stasis.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Suck on that you crazy blue BITCH!" shouted Vega victoriously as he cycled another mini-rocket into his GEP gun's firing chamber. "Yeah!"<p>

Bau had not exactly appreciated the young human's initiative: he had hoped to capture Benezia alive in order to interrogate her. However, She had shown an impressive display of Biotic power, which, to his shock and amazement, involved making a Wanzer execute a Biotic Charge.

All things considered, perhaps shooting her with a rocket was the more prudent course of action. Now all they needed to do was deal with the combat mech that had punched a Wanzer into the ground... Bau wasn't quite sure if intervening in their fight before Benezia scrapped it was the right call. Then again, T'soni had been in the line of fire as well...

On second thought, perhaps he should commend Vega for his initiative later.

"What do we do about those mercs, sir?" Taylor asked Anderson.

"First," Anderson replied, "we make sure Benezia and that Wanzer don't get up again, we secure T'soni, and then there will be time for questions."

"That's assuming they let us secure T'soni."

"If they don't let us take her, then we kill 'em," said Wrex. "Simple."

"Hmph, agreed." said Bau. Finding T'soni here had been a welcome bit of good fortune: It looked like his mission would be a success after all.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Coming out of Stasis was an experience that the US marines were simply never prepared for. One minute you're doing something, then all of a sudden you feel disoriented and everything around you feels different, like time passed you by in a split second. Grey fell on all fours, trying not to puke in his helmet. He shook his head, got back up once the world stopped spinning, and took stock of the situation.<p>

There was a Wyvern Wanzer, painted red, lying on its back with its head smashed in, and Benezia lay near it, her silk clothing smoking. He wondered if Jensen had done that all by himself... but then he noted the presence of another armed band. Mercs? No, Alliance, judging by their colors, along with a Kroc and a Gecko. They were approaching them - carefully, with their weapons in hand.

Jensen had been kneeling, and recovering from a great deal of exertion. "Are you alright?" he asked T'soni.

"I'm fine... what about you?"

"Honestly?" he got back on his feet, and Grey noted that his legs made some funny noises... I could use some rest."

The rest of the Deep Eyes, along with Garrus, had recovered their senses as well, and saw the defeated Wanzer, the fallen Matriarch and the approaching group of Alliance troopers.

Jane grimaced as if tasting a piece of bile. "Great... Allie comes to the rescue at the last fucking second. _Again_."

"Spirit, Mr. Blue, Paladin... go and make sure Benezia and that Wanzer stay down. Shadow, T'soni? You go shut down that damned artifact and open it properly. I'll talk-"

Benezia rose in air and shrieked like a banshee, her bleeding body surrounded in a purple aura. Tongues of flame sprang from the monolith and were sucked into her mask, making it pour out a black liquid that veined her skin and quickly covered her completely in dark liquid metal, forming a seamless armor in the shape of a woman. The Wanzer rose as well, but it looked like he was being torn apart, limb by limb.

The pilot was spared the carnage, amazingly enough, and he landed on two feet while his twelve swords hovered about him, slave to the Lorentz force generated by the disks on his elbows. The Wanzer's wreckage began to take shape around Benezia, and the liquid metal sprang out to form a web of veins that melted the metal into the shape of a giant headless woman with six metal wings and a serpentine tail.

The Deep Eyes fired their guns at the reformed machine, but it was no use, a powerful Barrier had been erected around it, and Benezia laughed.

_**"Fools! A moment's weakness and you think yourselves victorious?!"**_

The Wanzer's element zero core floated above and behind the machine, and Benezia sat on a throne where its head should have been. Huge eyes mounted on the insectile limbs the wings were mounted on opened, and each one tracked a different person.

_**"Look upon the true form of the Black Queen! Am I not beautiful?!" **_she cackled madly.**_ "Kneel before me..._**" Biotic orbs - dozens of them - appeared and orbited around her._** "...or suffer!"**_

"TAKE COVER!" screamed Grey as the Black Queen began her biotic artillery strike.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Dark Energy erupted all around Wrex as he sprinted for cover at the ring of arches that surrounded the artifact, and he cursed Bau for thinking the mission practically over. They were now dealing with a Biotic Wanzer.<p>

_A Biotic Wanzer._

A normal one would have been enough trouble for a small squad of infantrymen, but a Biotic one? This... This was going to be a challenge.

"Open fire!" shouted Anderson. His battle-suit was connected to his LMG through a coolant tube, allowing the gun to fire indefinitely by using the suit's own heat sinks. Vapor emerged from vents on his back. "Bring down that thing's barrier! Vega, ready your GEP gun for a full barrage!"

"Aye-aye, sir! Give me an opening and-whoa!"

Vega was interrupted when a sword-wielding Templar - that damned Wanzer's former pilot - appeared in a burst of biotic energy and slashed at him with a pair of serrated blades. Vega's reflexes, boosted by his Adrenaline Rush, allowed him to block with his large weapon. The GEP gun was slashed in half, and Vega fell on his back. The Templar was about to finish him when Wrex Charged in and knocked the Templar away. To the little human's credit, he landed on his feet. Wrex followed it up with a Heavy pistol shot to the chest, but the swords that hovered about the Templar - was he a biotic? Wrex wondered - formed a wall that blocked the shot. Anderson tried to overcome that metal barrier by firing his LMG at it, but it held fast. Taylor tried to knock it away with his biotics, but it held against that as well.

Wrex drew out his new greataxe and smiled. This was going to be settled in melee combat. "You folks take care of the witch. This uppity human is mine!"

"Try and last more than ten seconds, Lizard!" challenged the Templar.

"You try and last more than one, monkey!"

And the two warriors charged at each other, roaring.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Garrus and Ryan fired as many Overload tech mines at it, but the Black Queen's barrier just wouldn't go down.<p>

"Dammit! It doesn't matter what we throw at it, nothing works!" shouted Ryan.

"She's tapping energy from the artifact!" added Garrus. "Wolf, we have to put a stop to that! I still have the high explosives!"

"We might need those to take HER out!" replied Grey. "T'soni! Do you think you can shut the monolith down?"

"I... I think I can close it, yes! The mandala's still intact, I can simply turn one of its dials back in the proper config-"

"Don't care how you do it, just do it! Paladin! Shadow! Give her cover! Blue! Spirit! Fire everything you've got at Benezia! Keep her attention on you!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>For Garrus, 'everything he had' now meant his modified Mongoose heavy pistol. The Steiner-Bisley Greatsword that Grey had provided him was now fresh out of gunpowder ammo, and while the Templar beam gun Jensen had given him still had a full charge, he wasn't keen on wasting it on Benezia's impenetrable barrier. Particle guns did about as well against that kind of defense as kinetic energy weapons.<p>

So, he was down to firing his Mongoose pistol at a Biotic Wanzer... which didn't even annoy it. Benezia quickly took notice of the two large men escorting her daughter, and she needed to be distracted, and fast.

_What do I have? My beloved Mongoose, and a Particle Gun/Sword that's a bit too awesome to use. None of these will do. _

_What else do I have?_

_I have a couple of LAMs, and... A satchel case with_ _six cylinders of custom made explosive._

_Oh yes, this will do._

He took out one of the explosive charges and, lacking a detonator, stuck a LAM on it, armed it, and drew back his arm for a throw.

"Vakarian!" screamed Grey. "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Getting her attention!" replied the Turian cop. He gave the throw all he had, and when the bomb interacted with the dark energy of Benezia's biotic barrier, it exploded into a ball of plasma and kinetic energy that briefly sundered the barrier. The shockwave was felt by everyone in the Ziggurat's central chamber.

Benezia had felt that shockwave through her Barrier, and now all of her eyes stared daggers at Garrus.

He had gotten her attention, alright.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"The mercs got heavy explosives!" shouted Vega. "They've got a shot at finishing this!"<p>

"Keep firing!" ordered Anderson. "Keep Benezia off their backs!"

Anderson replaced the ammo block in his LMG and continued firing. At the same time, Bau desperately emptied his Venom's omni-gel tank firing explosive sub-munitions at Benezia, while Vega and Taylor fired their Avengers into her back. It was no use; her armor regenerated quickly, and it wasn't long before the globe of biotic energy surrounded her again.

Meanwhile, Wrex was wrapped in a Barrier of his own, keeping the crazy Templar swordsman at bay... and getting visibly tired. It would not be long before he would be cut down, and then nothing would stop the madman from chopping them up into ribbons.

"Anderson!" screamed Bau. "The mercenaries and T'soni are doing something to the monolith! I think they're trying to shut it down!"

The captain understood that if they were to have a chance in hell of stopping Benezia, they needed to cut her off from the monolith's energy. "Taylor! Detonate any micro-singularities that come their way!"

"I'll try, sir!" replied the Vanguard.

"Don't try, DO IT, marine!"

"Aye-aye!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A dark energy bolt exploded above Jensen as he shielded Manah, while Ryan protected them both with his Omni-Shield. They hurried to the spot that Manah had pointed out, a circle some five meters away from the Monolith. The Asari archeologist knelt and began altering a hologram conjured from the ground.<p>

"This will just take a minute!" she said, trying not to lose her calm as her mother raged.

"Hurry up!" shouted Ryan. "My friends are -ugh!" Another biotic bolt detonated above him, and his overpowered shield absorbed the shockwave. "They're almost out of ammo!"

Jensen himself was running on fumes; his suit's power was down to one percent. If Benezia or even that Templar attacked, he wasn't sure if he could stop either of them.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The two warriors were evenly matched in skill, and while the Krogan had strength and resilience, Caim had far more speed. Still, that wasn't enough to defeat the blasted Alien that had challenged him.<p>

"What's the matter?!" shouted the Alien as he made a horizontal strike, triggering the axe's rockets for that extra bit of speed. "Never fought a Krogan before?!"

"I fought plenty!" Caim ducked under the blow - the plasma jet barely singing his hair. "I have plenty of crests mounted on my wall!"

"Ha! You're a bad liar, human!"

"It's no lie! It's pathetic, really! You Krogan act like nothing could possibly faze you, but if someone so much caresses those things with a knife, you panic and mewl like kittens!"

"You're trying to make me mad?!" The Krogan focused his biotics into the head of the Greataxe, and slammed the ground with it. A shockwave rode the floor and hit Caim in the legs, causing him to fall. The Krogan stepped up and rose the weapon, ready to finish the duel by beheading him. "Well, you SUCCEEDED, idiot!"

Caim rolled out of the way and quickly got back to his feet. The Queen's voice rang in his head.

_**"Caim, my daughter plans to rob me of my power. Stop her. Ignore the Krogan and STOP HER!"**_

"As you wish, my Queen." he replied, calmly.

Caim positioned himself between the Krogan and the trio near the monolith, and goaded the Battlemaster into striking again. He succeeded, and the Krogan made a wide horizontal swing. Caim jumped on the weapon's shaft, and he added the Krogan's power to his leap. He landed right in front of the Asari girl. Her eyes widened in shock and horror, an expression Caim savored.

"Hello, little bird..." he swung at her neck, but the serrated blade only found the humming steel attached to the Abomination's arm.

"T'soni!" it said. "Don't stop!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Grey saw both Ryan and Jensen engage the Templar swordsman. The Krogan he had been engaged with was charging at them, intent on joining the fray. Before that he noticed that the Alliance soldiers had a biotic with them. A plan formed in his head, even as he came under fire from these blasted exploding orbs.<p>

"Vakarian! Get ready to throw another of these explosive charges at her on my mark!"

"Gladly!"

Grey ran from cover to cover, and linked up with the Alliance soldiers. One of them, had a red stripe over his arm, and he assumed that he was in command. "Hey! Are you in command?"

"Captain David Anderson," boomed the power-suited marine. "Alliance Military! Who the hell are you?!"

_To hell with this mercenary cover. _"Edward Gray, United States Marine Corps!"

"Grey?! What the hell are the-"

"No time for questions! I got a plan, but I need your biotic to make me float! Can he do that?"

"Are you insane?!"

"I'm going to distract Benezia while my man with the explosives brings down her barrier again. Once I distract her, you shoot at her Eezo core! All the energy in the world won't do her any good if she can't make a barrier with it!"

"Sir!" called out the Biotic. "I can do it!"

"It's a sound plan!" agreed Bau.

"...Fine." agreed the Alliance captain. "But it's your ass on the line."

"I know it is." Grey replied. "Oorah."

"Taylor, do it!"

"Aye aye, sir!" The Biotic lifted Grey up, freeing him from Caleston's gravity. Grey activated his micro-jets, and darted around and above Benezia, annoying her like a fly. "Now!" he shouted, and Vakarian threw a double dose of explosives at Benezia. The blast destroyed her barrier, and Grey dodged biotic orbs as he propelled himself towards the Biotic Wanzer's head - Benezia herself. He landed right in front of her, grabbed her by the neck, and fired his Serpent point blank into her belly. Just as he did so, the Alliance marines focused their fire on the floating Element Zero core. It cracked under the onslaught of kinetic energy, and Benezia was left without her first line of defense.

"Die, you goddamned witch! DIE!" Even as he shouted the words, Benezia's wounds sealed back up. She grabbed the Serpent with her own hands, and crushed the barrel.

_**"DIE?!" **_Benezia grabbed Grey by the throat.**YOU_ WANT ME TO DIE?! I HAVE DIED A THOUSAND TIMES OVER AT THE HANDS OF BEINGS FAR MORE POWERFUL THAN YOU FILTHY LITTLE MONKEYS, AND I HAVE RISEN AG-AAARGH!"_**

The arm that held Grey by the throat was severed by a lance of energy. The biotic field that kept him free of gravity faded, and he fell on the ground. As he recovered, Garrus rushed to him, Longinus rifle in hand, and helped him up.

"Nice shot," said Grey.

"Sometimes you get lucky." replied the Turian as he dragged him back into cover.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jondum Bau was, to be honest, quite impressed with the audacity of the Terran Marine. He had failed in killing Benezia once and for all, but his plan had mostly worked: Benezia's defenses were failing, and her liquid metal armor was starting to fail under the combined gunfire of his Venom shotgun and the Alliance Marine's weapons... and the occasional beam of light that came from the Turian in the service of the US marines.<p>

Yes, they were going to win this.

"Benezia!" He called out, even as he kept firing at her. "Shut down your Wanzer and surrender! I promise you that the Council will show you leniency!"

_**"Surrender?!" **_Benezia landed on her machine's feet, and one of her giant hands created a ball of plasma, formed out of the wisps of flame that emanated from the Prothean artifact. **_"I cannot be caged!" _**She threw it at him. _**"I cannot be controlled! Understand this as you die, fool!"**_

Bau and the Normandy team hit the deck, as the ball of plasma exploded against the arches.

"You just had to piss her off, didn't you?" said Anderson.

And then Benezia set the stone on _fire._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Krogan had been the first to fall. He had been difficult to duel, but he did not work very well with others. Caim had sliced off his leg from the back of his knee just as he shouted something about never ignoring one's enemy, or some other alien nonsense. Caim was just about to stab him in the chest before the human with the omni-shield bashed him with the glowing plate - His shot-pistol having been cut in half, that was all he could do to save the alien.<p>

That had made him made Caim very, very mad, and rage gave him more focus. The Abomination attempted to slice his head off - an amateurish strike with a blade mounted on the wrist, and easily dodged. Caim kicked him in the back while he dealt with the shield bearer. That one... that one had been trained better in the fighting arts, he could tell, but that didn't stop him from getting his shoulder pierced with one of Caim's floating blades. His stance faltered, and Caim side-kicked him in the neck. The large man fell, limp like a rag doll.

That left the Abomination to be dealt with. Caim traded Popola and Devola (his serrated blades) for Furiae (his curved greatsword). He took a stance, ready to slice the machine man in half. It drew its revolver and fired explosive rounds at him. Caim laughed as his Lorentz Force generators mounted in his cowters automatically put up a barrier of blades in front of him, shielding him from the explosive bullets.

"Go ahead, reload! But while you're at it..." He eyed the Black Queen's daughter frantically trying to solve a Prothean puzzle. "Let me take care of this annoyance, first!"

Devola flew at the Asari, and the Abomination leapt in her way. She pierced the dark-armored man's chest, close to where the heart should be. The machine fell to the ground, unmoving.

"Well, that was easy." quipped Caim. He had expected more out of the cyborg. Maybe the screaming Turian charging him with an Omni-Sword would prove to be better sport.

As he struck the sword away from the turian, and smacked him across the face into a coma, he realized it would not be so.

Oh well.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Nooooo!" screamed Manah. Tears streamed down her face as all thoughts of shutting down the monolith fled from her mind. She ran up to her fallen protector to try to do something - anything! - to save him. But the Templar grabbed her by the throat. He shuddered as he touched her.<p>

"Ah... so that's how it feels to touch you..." said the Templar. Manah was horrified. He was still sane. _How was he still sane?_

Shadow stirred, and the Templar followed Manah's surprised gaze. He threw her away, away from the Mandala, away from her savior.

"I'll deal with you later..." muttered the Templar venomously.

She had tried to come to his defense - tried to fire off a biotic blast... but she had given everything she had saving everyone from that gigantic blade. She had nothing left to give. The Turian had nothing left to give... and from the smoking ruins of the arches that surrounded her, and the mad, victorious cackling of her mother... it was apparent that neither the Alliance, or these Deep Eyes, could come to his aid.

It was hopeless.

The Templar pulled the serrated blade from Shadow's fallen form, and blood splattered over the Mandala as the Templar shook the blade clean.

"Blood?" taunted the Templar. "Red blood? I would have thought your kind would bleed the same mercury as my Mistress' servants." He put the blade against Shadow's throat.

And then the blood glowed green.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Did you think some man with a gun could stop a creature such as I?" <strong>_asked Benezia as she held both Anderson and Grey in her giant, mechanical hands.

"It was worth a shot." replied Grey.

_**"I could have given you her heart, body and soul, Grey. I could have made Angela love you again..."**_

"...Go to hell."

_**"And you David. It's not too late. I can bring her back. I can make her love you as a daughter... and as a lover."**_

Anderson simply spat at Benezia. "Fuck you."

Grey chuckled at that.

_**"So you will not submit. You will not become my thralls."**_

Anderson and Grey said nothing. And Benezia began to squeeze.

Even as his ribs started to crack, Grey felt he needed to say something. "I...argh! I know we only met five minutes ago, but I just want to say... It was an honor, Anderson."

"Like...wise. argh..." The pain was intense for both men, but both of them refused to scream.

Their only regret was that the last thing they would see would be Benezia's grinning face... which quickly turned to surprise as the entire floor began to glow green. She let both soldiers go.

_**"What...NO! CAIM, YOU FOOL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"**_

_**~[h+]~**_

**DNA PATTERN PARTIALLY RECOGNIZED**

**ANIMA SCAN COMPLETE**

**WELCOME BACK, ALEPH**

**I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU... for so long...**

_**...**_

_Was this death, Adam wondered? Was this the Afterlife? A computer voice drones on, and there's nothing but black? He had been raised Catholic, and time had worn those beliefs down to agnosticism... but he had still hoped for something a bit more interesting._

_Then another voiced boomed, and yet was gentle on the ears._

_**Alif.**_

_"Who's there?" Jensen asked the darkness._

_**Alif... open your eyes.**_

_"That's not my name. My name is Adam."_

_**That is not the name your mother gave you, as she held you in her arms while your were still covered in the blood of her womb. That is not the name that echoed throughout the universe as she uttered it for the first time.**_

_**Alif.**_

_**Don't be afraid.**_

_**Open your eyes.**_

_Adam opened his eyes, and saw an infinitely complicated machine made of impossible configurations of gears and transmissions, surrounded by ever shifting, ever moving caterpillar tracks made out of silver plates. Lightning cracked between the machine and an eternal black void._

_It was a throne._

_And within that throne stood - no floated- a man. His mechanical arms outstretched, clad in a long, tan robe that hovered over his legs but hugged his chest tightly. He wore a headdress, a strip of metal that curved over the top of his head from ear to ear, and beads attached to each tip floated weightlessly. His eyes glowed green behind a mask that covered his entire face._

_**I am Aleph.**_

_**I am the first of the Prometheans.**_

_**And you must listen.**_

"This... this is nothing but a dying dream. I took a blade in the heart, and now my brain's last neurons are firing off some kind of foolish delusion!..."

_**You and your companions fought well, but an army would not have been enough. Naamah toyed with you: her nanites would have restored her flesh even if you had unleashed a hailstorm of metal shards at it. The Barrier was simply there to keep her form preserved: a testament to her vanity. Explosives would not have worked. The shadow man tried to prepare you as best he could... but he failed.**_

_**A man with a gun cannot hope to defeat what is to come. That is folly, a fantasy conjured up by your leaders.**_

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do, then?!"

_**To fight the Reapers, the Children of Nazara, you must be armed with knowledge.**_

_**And this... this is the first tome you must study.**_

_A small tablet of stone appeared between Adam and Aleph._

_**This is the Grimoire of the Divine Fire.**_

_Images flashed in Adam's mind:_

_The Molten Earth._

_The Rain Transformed._

_The Air Ignited._

_Adam's head felt like it was on fire._

_**This is the knowledge of the flow of energy.**_

_**With it you can cut out her heart: her true heart, the one that sleeps in the darkness, and reclaim the Anima that she took.**_

_**Awaken, Alif. And take your first steps on the Path.**_

_**What you are now is but a stepping stone to what you can become...**_

**DOWNLOAD COMPLETE.**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What diablerie is this?!" The glowing green blood that came from the machine followed the grooves of the mandala, and they began a circuitous trip towards the Prothean monolith. It's shaft of light had turned from a flaming pillar of orange flame to a bright blue solid beam of light. Lightning crackled between it and the metal cage<p>

_**"What...NO! CAIM, YOU FOOL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" **_screamed the Black Queen.

Caim was panicking, but he could fix this. He could fix this! He still had a blade at the Abomination's throat - It was causing it, he knew it! All he had to do was swipe the blade and cut off its head and it would be ov-

The cyborg grabbed the blade with its hand, and dug its plasma claws into it, momentarily blinding Caim with the bright flash of light. It forced the blade away from its throat and got up, his fingers buried deep in Caim's wrists. When Caim's eyes recovered, the cyborg was covered in teal glowing Omni-Gel. Its faceplate opened, revealing eyes that glowed a yellow green. It put a finger on his forehead, and Caim knew that he was doomed.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam could feel the pulses of electricity that coursed through his body. He could feel the circuits in his implants, and in his suit. He had never felt so awake, so alive, and aware of everything around him.<p>

He could feel the pulses that ran through the Templar's brains - Caim, that was his name, yes. Caim, despite all his rage and fury and thirst for blood, was a pitiable creature that simply did not wish to dwell on the horrible death of his family. Naamah had offered him some relief, and that had been enough for him to swear loyalty to her. Through him Leon and Ari, bound to him in ways that they could not comprehend, followed suit.

He was nothing but a pathetic thrall, and Adam took pity on him.

**"Sleep,"** he said, and the pulses in Caim's brain stilled, and the boy fell into unconsciousness.

_**"...No... no! No! NO! It cannot be you. IT CANNOT BE YOU! I SAW YOU PERISH ON THAT PRIMITIVE WORLD! MY CREATOR STRUCK YOU DOWN ONCE AND FOR ALL!"**_

**"Naamah. You should know better. Death is not the end. How many times has Nazara seen fit to restore you into a..." **Adam laughed. **"...a piece of clothing? What was it this time? An undergarment? A hat?"**

_**"HOW DARE YOU! I..."**_

While Naamah ranted (as she always ranted when her inflated sense of worth was called into question _-wait how do I know that?_) Adam looked around for a weapon. Finding none that would do. He decided to make one with what was at hand. Shards of Starfire littered the ground, and a huge slab of titanium lay there, some distance away. Adam's star fire cores in his armor flared, and the ingredients were brought together.

This room... This was not a place of communion, as the primitives would like to think. Nor was this a chamber of power, as Naamah liked to believe. No, this room was a _forge_, the final test for the students of Vulcanus, before they moved on to the higher secrets of Molecular Control.

Lighting struck the metal and the shards, conducted from the Core through the monolith and through the air. The energy melted the elements, and Jensen clenched his fist, forming a mold of dark energy that crushed the huge clod of metal into the shape of a blade small enough for a man, segmented at the lower half. The blade cooled immediately, and Jensen grabbed it, feeling its weight.

It was not his best work _- when have I ever forged a sword?!_ - but for the likes of Naamah? It would do.

_**"...AND WHEN I CLAIM YOUR ANIMA NAZARA WILL REWARD ME BEYOND MEASURE!"**_

**"Ah, you are done talking." **Adam took a stance, bringing his sword high, ready to strike. Adam had never properly wielded a sword before, but.. it felt right, somehow. **"Shall I remind you, Naamah? Shall I remind you why Nazara had to put you in a vessel so small?" **Lightning surged out of the blade, its metal sang, and its edge became a bright blue.** "Come! And remember what it is to fight a TRUE Promethean!"**

_**"You are not a true Promethean!" **_screamed the Black Queen as she conjured up balls of plasma. **_"You are the last echo of one, animating the corpse of a bastard as you always have! And I shall make the sound still ONCE AND FOR ALL!"_**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>They had all opened their eyes, at some point, their bodies were tired, or broken, but they could all open their eyes. And they all saw.<p>

Vega saw Tlaloc, as he imagined him as a boy, cutting off one of the wings of the great beast whose taloned feet had kicked him into a pillar.

Taylor saw Shango, as he imagined him when he listened his grandmother describe him so long ago... He saw Shango, reflecting a bolt of purple light right back at a hideous creature that had made a piece of pillar fall on top of him. She was smacked against the wall.

Whitaker saw the Archangel Gabriel himself, but he was running up the walls, his feet crackling thunder, catching up with Satan trying to fly away and escape God's wrath. Williams saw them as such, passing by twice: once rising, then once falling.

Proudfoot saw an fusion of a Thunderbird and Taranis bring down a great winged serpent that had knocked her away with its tail.

Wrex saw Vaul tear out the wings of Uru, the Void Maw, with his bare hand.

Garrus saw a Myrmidon with the power of a Titan, but he also saw his dearest friend, planting his sword in one of Benezia's giant eyes.

Anderson saw a machine, granted powers beyond his understanding.

Grey saw Jensen, more powerful than he had feared... and yet, he was glad that this power was on his side.

Jondum Bau couldn't process what he was seeing at all. There was no myth for his mind to fall back on.

And Manah? Manah saw what she had always dreamed of, but never dared to hope she would ever see.

And then she saw her mother being torn out of the giant machine she had built, and crawl towards her, leaving a trail of black blood behind.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Manah... help me."<p>

**"You are beyond help, Naamah." **said Adam, his voice not his own. He walked behind her, sword in hand, ready to finish this. **"The untold billions I have MURDERED by letting you LIVE." **Tears welled up in his eyes. Oh, yes, billions had died to her machinations, her need for idolatry.** "Here, in this place, Nazara will not come to save you. Here, in this place, you will not escape. You will die a true - and final - death."**

He rose his blade, ready to slice her chest apart, right in the sweet spot, and claim the wyrm of red Anima that animated the corpse of the poor woman.

**"Now it ends as you said it would! Once and for all!"**

"Stop!" screamed the young girl - Manah, that was her name, yes. The blade stopped just short of her head. She stood defiantly against him, tears in her eyes. "Please," she begged. "That's my _mother!_"

**"...Your mother is as good as dead. Stand aside, and let me end her suffering."**

"No! She's in there somewhere! She has to be!"

**"Yes, she is. But she is beyond saving. Her soul's Anima is mingled with a Reaper, and that means a death the likes of which you do not know."**

"There has to be a way to save her! You're a Prothean! You can do anything!"

"He's right... Manah, I am damned let him finish it..."

"Mother!" Manah knelt by her mother's side. She wanted to touch her, to hold her in arms, but...

"I can still hear her whisper in my mind... Oh, she rages! My body is but a cage, too small and too limited to contain her fury! I thought I was using a Prothean tool, but in fact it was I being used! I tried to seal away a part of my mind, but she found even that sanctum! There's no escape, no escape for me, my child! Let him do his work, let him free what is left of my soul while there is still time!"

"No!" cried Manah in despair. "I can't let it end like this!"

"You MUST!" Benezia's biotics flared, and Manah was pushed away. Manah desperately pushed back physically against the wall of force, her feet sliding against the floor wet with her mother's black blood.

Benezia struggled to rise, naked save for slivers of liquid black metal and the Masque, now empty of Naamah. Adam could see her true form: a wyrm of red fire, coiled around Benezia's heart. He would have to cut deep to reach it.

"Manah, my Little Storm, I'm sorry for everything... but please... close your eyes." Benezia begged.

"Mother! MOTHER!"

"Close your eyes!"

Manah finally obeyed, and shut her eyes tightly. Benezia stares silently at Adam... her executioner.

"Promise me, Promethean... promise me you will take care of her?"

**"...I shall. I admire your strength, Matriarch. Few are those that can struggle against the will of a Reaper."**

"But they never last long, do they?" Benezia smiled sadly.

**"...No. The Reaper always wins out in the end."**

"...He is growing stronger."

**"I know."**

"Do you think you can defeat him?"

**"...I can only promise that I will not let him win."**

"...Good. That's good..." Benezia took a deep breath, and the wyrm stirred in a panic. It knew the end was coming.

"Finish it." Benezia said finally.

Adam swung down diagonally, cutting Benezia in half. The wyrm wriggled free from her flesh, and Adam seized the creature of fire, spirit and breath. Lightning crackled around his fist as he crushed the abomination, burning it away, releasing the energy from its gorged, swollen form. Adam claimed a portion of it, and the taste of it felt... familiar. He had felt it whenever he broke someone's spirit on his fists. He had felt it when he killed Barrett, felt it when Fedorova's blood spilled on the floor, and he had felt it when Namir took his last breath.

But it was stronger, here.

Benezia's body dissolved to ashes, and from these rose a multitude of white wisps, rising up, fluttering like fireflies.

And there was nothing left for Manah to mourn. That was all she could see when she opened her eyes, after the wall of force faded and she fell on her knees.

Ashes.

Adam planted the sword on the pile, letting it fuse with the stone. It was a final gesture of respect, marking a grave for a poor soul taken over by the Reapers. Another they would answer for.

"Why?" she asked as she approached Adam. "Why couldn't you..." she started hitting him, her hands impacting uselessly against his chest. "You... you could have saved her!" she cried. "You could have saved her!"

**"...I'm sorry."**

"Sorry?! I am all alone now! My mother is dead! My sister is dead! Even my caretakers are dead! They're all gone!"

**"There was nothing I could do for her."**

"You're a Prothean! You're supposed to have all the answers! You can't save one life?!"

"I..." Jensen realized that his voice was his own again, and then it was as if the inside of his head had been set on fire. "I... I...argh!"

"W-what... what's happening to you?!"

"My head, I can't..." His blue Omni-Armor flickered and melted into a puddle around him, and his chest wound bled out over Manah's hands.

"No! NO! Not you too! Please, no!"

Adam fell on his knees, and Manah found herself keeping him from falling over completely. A voice boomed from the Monolith, it's shaft of light gone.

"ERROR. HOST CAPACITY INSUFFICIENT. INITIATING ANIMA BACKUP."

Wisps of blue light surged out of Adam's head, taking with them millions of years of a accumulated wisdom, memories, and skills... and rushed into the Monolith.

"GRIMOIRE SAVED."

The monolith split in half, and floating between the two halves was a tablet of stone, waiting impatiently to be claimed.

Adam fell down, and rolled on his back. He felt so... drained, now. He could feel the presence of the Deep Eyes, Garrus, the Alliance soldiers and the two aliens walking up to him, their steps slow and pained.

"No..." muttered Garrus. "Please, Spirits... don't let it end like this. We've been through so much..."

"Please! Don't go!" cried Manah. Adam found her voice so high, so pretty... so close, and so far away. The sound was so pleasant, and he wanted to hear it again.

It was getting darker.

"He's... not gonna make it, is he?" said Jane.

"Please..." begged Manah.

Everything was a blur...

"Stay with me..."

The last thing Jensen heard before the silent brightness took him was the whine of a dropship's engines.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: What? You didn't think I was going to let Jensen KEEP those demi-god powers, did ya? Well, there it is, the end of the Caleston arc. Nothing will be the same for anyone. You, me, the characters. It's all gonna get crazier from here.<strong>_

_**Or will it? There's still a conspiracy to unravel. I think it's time for Jensen to walk more familiar environment. The streets of Illium await!... Just as soon as I'm done with the epilogue.**_

_**Also, holy crap: 25k words chapter.**_

_**Sorry to any folks from Ireland for the use of bad Irish straight out of Google Translate to stand in as Old Thessian, but I didn't have time to come up with random alien words. Besides, coming up with an alien language carries a risk: Try saying "I'd like a glass of water." in made-up Salarian, and you just might be insulting someone's mother in Bulgarian. If you're curious, Circe said: "O Geis, punish this one, and grant her the seventh level of suffering!"**_

_**The first part of the Black Queen series got itself a new introductory paragraph. I felt it needed one, and think i'll be making more tweaks to parts 2 and 3 later on. I'll be sure to make note of any changes in future updates.**_

_**I really, wanted to have Anderson say Oscar Mike here at some point... but I resisted the urge of slapping in yet another reference. I'm trying folks, I really am.**_

_**Special thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the spellchecking.**_


	27. Chapter 24: The Aftermath - Durendal

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution:**_

_**Chapter 24: The Aftermath: Durendal**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Knight-Major Vael is voiced by Alec Newman**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>First, there had been earthquakes. Between those, the thunder and the rain, everyone on Caleston thought that was it: the end of the world. This world, at least, and they were right. It was the end of Caleston.<p>

But it was also the rebirth of Vulcanus.

The planet's crust cracked and broke, opening pockets of gas in which slumbered untold trillions of spores. The spores settled on the wet ash, fed on the moisture in the air, and within hours grew into tall fungal plants. Forests of mushrooms and lichen covered the entire surface within hours, even Syneu's. For most of the residents, it was a nuisance. For the poor in the plasma-ravaged slums... it was food, and shelter, and even illumination in the dark.

A godsend, in other words.

Three men clad in dirty clothes were huddled around an oil drum, with a makeshift grill made out of girders holding up skewers of mushrooms to the heat of a flame. They warmed their hands... it was cold outside, colder than it had ever been. After years of 30 degrees Celsius heat and humidity, at ten degrees they shivered uncontrollably.

"Diner's ready!" said one of the men. "I checked with the clinic: these are safe to eat."

"Good," replied another. "Don't want to see no pink elephants like last time."

"Oh come on now," said the third, "It wasn't that bad. Hell, it was good fun after... you know..."

"After that damned Wanzer started roasting us in our homes?... yeah, I suppose that was some welcome good cheer after that."

They ate their meal silently for a while. All of them wished they had some garlic butter, but none of them complained. The stuff tasted delicious roasted, anyways.

"Speaking of that Wanzer..."

"I'd rather not, you know?"

"I heard it got done in by - get this - a man in dark armor. Not with a gun or a rocket launcher, but with his bare hands. Heard one of the kids say so."

"Don't be daft. Power-armor or no, no man can stand up to a Wanzer."

"I heard something about that! I heard he was as strong as a titan and lifted that damned Red Wanzer and threw it into the sun!"

"Now you're just making shit up. No, no, the way I heard it, he took it down with a knife..."

"I heard he just ran for the hills."

"You sure about that? I haven't seen that Red Wanzer around anymore. The Templars are still around, but no Red Wanzer."

They kept going back and forth like this, and others eventually joined them, adding to the tale.

And just like that, a legend was born.

All it needed now was a name.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam opened his eyes. He still felt groggy...like he had been drugged, and he felt a warm weight press against his right side. Probably a heated pillow, or something.<p>

He focused on his surroundings: Judging by the metal ceiling, he was in the Durendal's sickbay. He heard the clicking sounds of programmable plastics and polymers, and noticed rings and sensors fold themselves away from his head.

_The Dreamcatcher. This was all a dream. Of course it was all a dream. The whole experience felt like something straight out of a bad fantasy novel. I didn't go through some ancient underground city. I didn't fight some plasma flinging demon. The universe as I know it still makes sense._

He heard the turning of pages on his left. Hein was there, lounging in a chair, writing in a green book. "Good morning, Adam." he said quietly, not looking away from the book.

"Fuck you."

"Well, that's a fine how do you do? Who pissed in your cereal this morning?"

"You did. You put me through some goddamned nightmare. As soon as the drugs wear off I'm getting off of this bed and I'm kicking your ass. But before I do that, you're going to explain to me why you put me through hell."

"...Why, giggles, of course." Hein chuckled. "But honestly? I hadn't expected things to get out of hand this early. I wanted you to have more time getting used to the 108's systems. But it looks like my timetable has moved up a bit."

Adam's mind was still trying to process what Hein was saying. Damn those drugs... "So... you thought you'd have me put the suit through it's paces in a... dream? You couldn't have me just go through a VR course? I had to see a repeat of Elysium, go through a lava-filled ruin and fight some goddamned Wanzer-demon because you were bored?!"

"Jensen..." Hein put a finger over his mouth. "Shhhhhhhhh... you'll wake her." And he pointed at Jensen's right side.

A pale Asari - the palest Jensen had ever seen - was asleep in a chair next to his bed, resting her head upon his abdomen. Her hand was resting just below his left breast. He could feel the heat coming off of her, felt her gentle breath tickle his skin. It was Manah T'soni, sleeping there.

Oh yes, Adam was wide awake, now.

"Just so that we're on the same page..." continued Hein as he closed the book and faced Adam. "No, it wasn't a dream. No, it wasn't VR. Yes, Caleston went to hell. Yes, you went down in that hell. Yes, you faced off against a machine possessed by an extra-dimensional being. And yes... for a few glorious minutes you wielded the power of a Demi-god and killed that monster... and in the process saved more lives than you can even imagine. You're a hero, Adam."

"I... no, that's impossible." muttered Adam. "The things I saw down there they were too..."

"Too what? Too fantastic? Too unscientific? Too irrational? Make no mistake, everything you saw in there was the work of science, not magic. If everything seemed so magical to you, maybe you should have read more of these science books, hm?"

"Benezia... that thing inside of her. It couldn't have been real."

"Oh, I assure you, it was..." Hein said as he rose from his chair. "But I'll let you process that for... however long you need. It's a luxury I didn't have when I saw my precious Hannah die. Hopefully, it'll keep you from going mad..."

The door that led out of the med-bay hissed open, and Hein stood in the doorway, his back to Adam. "When you're ready to talk, come see me in Special Projects. I have something to show you... and be careful with T'soni. Tali and I had to do some extensive repairs on your arms and legs; the calibrations are off." He turned to Adam and smiled. "It'd be a damned shame for you to have gone through all that trouble and snap her neck by accident, no?" And with that smile, Hein left, leaving Adam alone with Manah and his thoughts.

But Adam didn't want to think, and he felt awkward having Manah sleep there. He closed his hands into fists, testing how his limbs felt. He noticed that the joints felt looser, and that the Typhoon launchers at his wrists had been replaced with... he didn't know what they had been replaced with. Gently and carefully, he lifted Manah's head and got out of bed, then he picked her up and laid her down on it. He winced, feeling the pain of the serrated blade piercing his flesh echoing from the bandage covering his chest.

As the pain faded, he noticed that the bed Aya had been laying in was empty, and the machinery that was keeping her alive had been put away. Had she died? Had she gotten better? He needed to ask Dr Ross. Where was she?

Jensen decided to leave the medbay and let Manah rest. He was halfway to the door when he heard her mutter something in her sleep.

"...Mama..." she murmured sadly.

...

_Adam swung down diagonally, cutting Benezia in half. The wyrm wriggled free from her flesh, and Adam seized the creature of fire, spirit and breath. Lightning crackled around his fist as he crushed the abomination, burning it away, releasing the energy that it was swelling with. _

_..._

Jensen felt guilt bore a hole into his guts. He had killed her mother, and yet Manah was latching onto him for comfort. He had been sorry to deliver the killing blow, but there was no escaping the fact that he had made her an orphan. It had been so _necessary_ at the time, but the reasons that motivated him to slice the Matriarch in two now eluded him, like a dream barely remembered.

"I'm sorry." he said, but he still felt more like a villain than a hero.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the mess hall, Garrus looked at the nutrient tube Lelia had given him. She had apologized that she could not prepare him something more to his liking, but all the ingredients in the kitchen was made for humans. "No need to apologize," he told her. "I've had worse in the military. Plus, I'm really, really hungry, when you're that hungry, anything tastes good."<p>

Sitting at the the table next to Garrus was the rest of the Deep Eyes, minus Grey. Jane and Ryan were a bit crestfallen, while Neil was trying to cheer them up. Seeing as Ryan still had that thick bandage on the side of his neck, and Jane... well, Jane looked more or less intact. Still it was pretty obvious they weren't in the mood for jokes.

"So then he says..."

"We heard that one, Neil." said Jane, jabbing at her food with her spork.

"You sure?"

"Positive," said Ryan, who then noticed Garrus taking a seat next to him. "Hey, Garrus. I see you managed to pull away from your project long enough to start taking care of yourself."

"It's pretty much done," replied Garrus after swallowing some of the nutrient paste. "Just need to go on a test drive with the thing and get the VI to recalibrate itself to my brainwaves."

"I hope you can handle it."

"Yeah, me too."

"I gotta ask," said Jane. "Why do you even need the thing? You're a crackerjack sniper. That thing's made to get in close. You should keep playing to your strength."

"Sure," replied Vakarian. "But there's also something to be said about getting to a high vantage point quickly. And besides, there's only so much working out you can do before you reach your limits. I'm going to need an edge if I ever get in close combat with a Templar again."

"I guess you got a point," conceded Jane with a shrug.

"So... how are you guys doing?" asked Garrus. "Mentally, i mean. Benezia did get inside your heads..."

"...We're doing okay." said Ryan, only half-honest.

"Yeah, about that..." said Neil, scratching his head. "From the way I heard it Benezia only got to some of you. Why didn't she try to mind rape the whole squad?"

"She tried," answered Garrus. "I heard her whisper in my head the whole time."

"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Jane.

"Yeah, I'm _totally_ going to admit that I'm hearing voices in my head to my racist squad leader. I'm sure that would have gone well."

"Did she dig up anything... bad?" asked Ryan.

"Well, she tried to play to my jealousy, I think, but I could barely hear her."

"Jealous? Of who?"

"Of Jensen... but that's a conflict that came and went a long time ago." Garrus had settled itself, really. Over time, Garrus realized that for all his augmentations and super-reflexes and recoil stabilizers, Jensen wasn't all that great a sniper. Competent, sure, but Garrus was the undisputed master of pulling off tricky long distance shots. And for all his physical training, Garrus wasn't that great of a short range combatant, and was more than happy to let Jensen punch out and subdue Krogan thugs.

Garrus was, he also concluded, better with the ladies.

But times were changing, Garrus could feel it. He'd need to keep up somehow, or be left behind.

And Garrus Vakarian would not be left behind. That's what he had been working on for the past three days, using parts salvaged by Zev, with little to no sleep or food, and the occasional help from Ryan, Veetor and (surprisingly) Hein.

Everyone at the table could hear Dr. Ross argue with someone, some distance away.

"It's only been three days! You should stay in bed."

"Honestly doctor," said a guttural voice - Jensen's of course. "I'm well enough to walk around," he said as he entered the mess hall. He was wearing little besides his bandages and dark sweatpants.

"You had a serrated vibro-sword go through you! It's a miracle you survived, let alone be well enough to walk! You need to take it easy for a while!"

"I heal fast, and now I'm hungry."

"You get back to the infirmary and I'll bring you something," said Aki, as if placating a small child. "I _promise._"

"...Thanks, but no thanks. I prefer to cook for myself, if you don't mind." He nodded in the direction of the table the Deep Eyes and Garrus were sitting at. "Hey."

"It's good to see you awake, Jensen." replied Garrus, relieved. Jane and Ryan nodded at him.

"Hey!" Neil waved at him. "The hero returns from slumberland! I take it you'll want me to take you to your robot girlfriend planetside once you're done with breakfast?"

Jensen stopped at that. "Wait, what?"

"Brea, she's on Illium along with the Spookies. They all needed to do some shopping, or somesuch."

Jensen turned to the doctor, a bit peeved. "You said she was doing physical rehab in the gym!"

"Because I knew as soon as you found out you'd want to go see her! You. Should. Be. In. Bed. As a matter of fact you all should be under observation! I have no idea how the Prothean relic affected you!"

Jensen continued on his way to the kitchen, and Dr. Ross kept following, trying to convince him to go back to the infirmary. Garrus got up and followed them.

The kitchen was big enough for Lelia and Jensen to work in without getting into each other's business. Jensen looked over the food: all the fresh stuff was gone already, and all that was left were canned goods. He decided to cook himself a big soy steak and a tin of vegetables. Frying the fake steak was easy enough - Jensen had done it before plenty of times. But when it came to the tin of fake vegetables, Jensen seemed completely dumbfounded.

"...You need a can opener." Garrus reminded Jensen.

"...Okay." said Jensen, but he made no motion to look for one and simply stared at the can, confused and helpless. For Garrus, that was probably the worst thing he could have seen.

...

_"Mom? Mom, have you heard the news? C-Sec accepted my application! Isn't it great?"_

_Livilla said nothing. She just stared at the pot of soup, confused and helpless._

_"Mom?" prodded Garrus. "Mom, you're letting the soup burn..." _

_He attempted to tap his mother's shoulder, but when looked at him she screamed in horror, seeing a stranger in full armor in her home. He picked up a knife and attempted to stab the interloper, screaming obscenities._

_"Who are you?! What have you done with my children!? Thaddeus! THADDEUS!"_

_"Mom! It's me!" screamed Garrus as he tried to wrestle the kitchen knife away from his neck. "Spirits! It's me!" _

_Thadeus and Solanna barged into the kitchen, and came to Garrus' aid. _

_A few minutes later the ambulance came to take Livilla away. She screamed frantically, begging Garrus to not let the strangers take her away. _

_That was the last time she ever called him by his name._

_..._

"I... I remember opening cans like this before..." said Jensen. "But, for the life of me I can't figure out how to do it now."

Aki silently asked Lelia to take over, and made Jensen sit at the counter while she took a scan of his brain with her Omni-Tool.

"How bad is it, Doc?" asked Garrus. "Is... is he going to be okay?"

"He's..." she paused, and that pause felt like an eternity for Garrus. "He's fine. There's no soft tissue damage or degradation, I mean. Jensen? Can you answer a few questions for me?"

"...Yeah, shoot."

"What does C-Sec stand for?"

"Citadel Security."

"How long have you worked there?"

"Six years."

Aki looked at Garrus, and Garrus nodded in confirmation.

"What's your date of birth?"

"March 9th, 1993." Jensen didn't feel the need to mention that it was probably fake.

"What's the capital of the United North-American States?"

"Washington."

"Okay, what does OCU stand for?"

"Oceanic Cooperative Union. Last I checked the Phillipines were trying to secede."

"Good, good... here's one everybody knows: Where on Mars are the Prothean-"

"-Promethean."

"...err, right, where are the Promethean ruins located on Mars, then?"

"There are no Promethean ruins on Mars. There's one in Luna, sure, but as far as Sol is concerned, that's it."

"...Jensen, come on. Everybody knows about the Mars ruins."

"Well, whatever you found on Mars, it's not Promethean. Are we done? Am I going senile?"

"Yes, and as far as I can tell, no. You've been asleep for three straight days. Some confusion is to be expected."

Jensen got back to his cooking. He picked up a can opener and used it another can. When Lelia reminded him that she had already taken care of that, Jensen simply said that he was really, REALLY hungry. Garrus and Aki simply stared at each other, a bit confused and more than a little afraid.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Nanomachines, son." said Drebin as he fiddled with the Templar Longinus rifle. When the Turian had brought the weapon in, the Omar simply had to work some magic on that weapon. Sure, the folks that made it were trying to exterminate his kind, but a fine gun was a fine gun. But this gun could be finer, and was in need of love.<p>

"Nanomachines?" asked Grey as he plugged an empty OVO Cell in the recharging rack. "I don't know, I suppose that explains some of the stuff down that happened down there, but..."

"Trust me, I've been around for more than a century, and I've seen plenty of weird shit. How did this guy survive a gunshot wound to the head? Nanomachines. How come those missiles exploded spontaneously? Nanomachines. How did that crazy fucker regrow his head and arm? Nanomachines, nanomachines, nanomachines."

The fact that Jensen turned out to be the same bogey that had appeared in the cargo hold a day before the Durendal left for Caleston had been a shock. Did nanomachines explain what Adam Jensen became, however briefly?

"I might as well say a Wizard did it." said Grey as he started working on his new Serpent Rifle. He'd been meaning to try something to coax more shots out of the power-cells. He had seen it in a dream last night... It occured to him then that maybe a dream wasn't such a good guideline to follow when trying to modify a high-energy particle gun, but the urge to put his thoughts into action had been simply too strong.

"You put magic anywhere on your report and they'll put you away in a padded cell." said Drebin.

"...Yeah, you're probably right." Grey had already visited those padded cells after Akuze. He wasn't looking to go back in one. He decided to change the subject: "So, I see Zev's brought you us some extra toys."

"That he did. That boy sure knows how to pick at a corpse. I've already got a few buyers lined up on Illium for the stuff Hein and the Turian don't have a need for. Should make for a nice bit of extra coin for fuel, supplies, and whatever luxuries you and the other crewmen fancy."

"How much do you figure the salvage will sell for?"

"About twenty million credits for what we took from the pirate's barge. The Templar kit's a bit too hot to sell and too useful not to keep."

"That's... well, we're not billionaires, but that's a lot of cash for a few day's worth of effort."

"Welcome to the lucrative business of pirate hunting."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After breakfast and a shower, Jensen was glad to be back in his detective's outfit. He was a hell of a lot more comfortable in slacks, a button shirt and a tie than in a suit of power-armor. His morning routine done with, he decided that Hein could wait a little longer while he went to speak with Tali'Zorah. Hopefully, she would have finished cracking that Omni-Tool. After that, it would be time to take his leave of the Durendal, the Deep Eyes, and Hein. Illium was as good a place as any to disembark.<p>

In the engine room, Tali was busy at her station. Adam tapped her on the shoulder, and she yelped in surprise.

"Oh, Mister Jensen y-you're awake! I was worried you wouldn't wake up; you were so damaged..."

"How bad was it?" asked Jensen.

"Well, I only repaired your mechanical parts, and I had to fix most of those in Hein's lab. Your knee and elbow actuators were completely pulverized, the phased titanium rods in your right arm were broken in three places, your finger joints were warped, and all of your myomer cables had _melted. _I had to clean the plastic out before even thinking about reassembling anything. Hein gave me replacement cables quickly enough, though."

Jensen was at a loss for words. How hard had he pushed himself back on Caleston?

"I... had no idea how badly damaged I was. Thanks."

Tali shook her head, embarrassed. "It was no trouble at all... although I do wish I had done a better job restoring the dermal armor in your chest. I didn't have access to the technology necessary to restore a sheet of reactive nano-carbon. I had to seal the breach with monomolecular sutures and Omni-Gel."

Jensen felt his chest. "So I have this weak spot in my chest, huh? Going to have to start investing in better body armor..."

"Don't pick at it!" Tali chided Adam. She decided to double check on her work with her Omni-Tool. "Huh... that can't be right."

"What? What is it? Is the tear open?"

"No, no it's closed, i-in fact it's perfectly sealed." Tali rescanned Jensen's chest. "It's just as good as new. How did this...?"

"You must have done a better job than you thought. Maybe the Omni-Gel fixed it?"

"Omni-Gel isn't like Medi-Gel, where you just slap it on a wound and then it heals everything. It just doesn't work that way. Omni-Gel is plastics and metal suspended in a semi-molten state. Complex carbon structures are beyond its capability to make let alone repair..."

"I think we can chalk this up to the weirdness of the Prothean Relic, or something." It occurred to Jensen then that a sheet of nanotubes fixing itself spontaneously should at least come to as a surprise, but for some reason it seemed perfectly natural.

Being Aleph, however briefly, had changed Adam's perspective on things. He didn't like it at all: everything felt so alien, now. Alien, and _primitive. _It was almost the complete opposite of when he woke up from cryo. Everything seemed so overwhelmingly advanced, then. Come to think of it, he had adjusted to the future pretty well.

"...I suppose you're right, but I'd like to know how it happened, nonetheless." She looked wistful. "Spontaneous molecular restoration... If I could replicate a phenomenon like that my Pilgrimage would be over."

"Right. Well, speaking of Omni-Tools." Adam said as he nodded at Tali's Wrist Halo. "Garrus sent me to check on his buggy piece of crap. Did you fix it?"

Instead of answering, Tali started to look sheepish and rubbed her hands together nervously.

"Zorah? Please tell me you still have it?"

"No... I don't. I'm sorry! I froze the explosives and disconnected all of the ICEs, but the encryption would have taken months to crack with just an Omni-Tool. I tried using the Gibson super-computer in the Electronic Warfare room, but then Hein surprised me, told me to stop at once, and confiscated it."

Jensen narrowed his eyes and squeezed his fist, hard. "Looks like I'm going to have to go see Hein after all."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah's eyes fluttered open, and she pushed herself up from her bed, looking around the unfamiliar walls. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, and sat up. She remembered that she was aboard a ship named... after a sword. Then she tried to recall how she got onto it.<p>

...

_At the outskirts of the prefab town surrounding the pit, Manah sat in on a bench while men argued over her fate. Spores were falling from the sky like snow, and she held out her hand to catch one. _

_On the one side, where the larger ship (dubbed the Normandy) had landed, was a Salarian Spectre by the name of Jondum Bau. Apparently the Council wanted her in their custody to study something, though she did not know what. Bau's vessel was sleek, and yet from where Manah was standing it looked like a giant sea monster._

_On the other was a tarnished, smaller vessel called a Copperhead. Manah enjoyed looking at the copperhead: it looked like a bird in flight, even as it sat with its engines deactivated. That vessel belonged to a man named Hein. Apparently, he wanted her aid in unlocking the secrets of the Prometheans. _

_Both sides felt they had cause to keep her._

_While they argued, the Templars, freed from her mother's grasp... simply watched. With their entire leadership gone, they now obeyed a man named Vael, a Knight-Major that quickly took command in the initial confusion following the Black Queen's defeat. _

_And he was approaching her, now. A handsome young man with brown hair combed back, wearing a decorated Templar officer's longcoat over a light hardsuit._

_"Lady T'soni?" he greeted her with a slight, yet humble bow. "I am Knight-Major Pol Vael."_

_Manah tensed, and hugged the Prothean tablet tightly against her chest, like a mother protecting her child. Mr. Wolf had commanded her to take it while Mr. Paladin and Mr. Blue carried Shadow into their vessel while the other humans simply watched. Apparently Grey had implied that if they made a single move towards her or their android asset Mr. Highwind would shoot them all to death._

_Ms. Spirit aimed her gun at the Templar. "Piss off," she said. "She's not coming with you."_

_"I very much doubt you could stop the entire Templar force on Caleston from taking her... if we wished to take her. We don't. I merely wish to convey my apologies for the suffering we have wrought upon her, and the eternal gratitude of the Templars for her part in freeing my comrades from her mother's grasp. And yours as well... Ser Proudfoot."_

_"Hey! How the fuck do you know my name?"_

_Vael smiled, and ignored her. "Lady T'soni, soon you will be faced with a decision that may very well change the course of human history. I hope you decide wisely. If you'll excuse me, my men and I will be quite busy keeping order all over the planet. We have much to atone for..." He held out his palm at her, in a gesture of peace. "May God guide you." _

_"I... did not expect a Templar to be so... respectful," said Manah as Vael boarded an armored ground vehicle._

_"Hm... well, I didn't expect a Templar to be so damned fuckable." answered Jane, a bit wistfully. "I guess the world's just full of surprises."_

_Manah blushed, and Proudfoot laughed at her embarrassment. Not cruelly, Manah noted, but with good-natured mirth._

_Hein beckoned Manah and Proudfoot to approach, and they complied. Manah had butterflies in her stomach: what had they decided?_

_"Ms. T'soni...It is good to finally meet you in person!" greeted Hein. Behind him Mr. Wolf shifted uncomfortably, his rifle in hand. "May I say that you look absolutely ravishing? Your hologram did you no justice!"_

_"H-hello." Manah wasn't sure how to react. That was twice she was being treated like a lady, and not a prisoner. "So... which vessel am I to board?"_

_"It seems that once again you'll have to decide how we shall proceed, as mister Bau and I have come to an impasse."_

_"There is no impasse." said Bau, as a man in dark armor with a red stripe over his right arm stood impassively at his side. "T'soni will come with me, and so will the Prothean relic in her possession. The Council commanded it and it is my duty to enforce their authority."_

_"I'm sure you and the Council have forgotten this important fact after they realized that everyone likes to bend over to their slightest whims but... You have no actual, official, legal authority over anything, mister Bau. Least of all a United States Marines officer. And especially not a super-biotic that can drive you nuts with a touch."_

_"I'm a Spectre." said Bau, as if that would resolve the situation. Manah suspected that it did on more than one occasion, but the human seemed amused. So amused in fact, that he laughed._

_"That's a _title_. It's worth a lot on the Citadel, but out here, right now? You're just a _salarian with a gun._ If you want Ms. T'soni to follow you to the Council, you're going to have to deal, and make her an offer."_

_Manah listened as the human and the Salarian made their offers. Hein spoke with such honeyed words, offering her the rights and privileges of a free woman, working under his employ. He promised her that he would take her across the galaxy in the hopes of uncovering the true secrets of the Protheans._

_She wasn't fooled: he was saying the thing he knew she wanted to hear. She hoped that Bau would be more honest, and immediately regretted her wish when he told her flatly that she would be kept safe from Saren and his Geth in a hidden, high security facility. There was no promise of pay, but he assured her she would live comfortably until Saren was caught. And once Saren was dealt with, she would be returned to her people._

_On the one hand, an uncertain fate to a man she did not fully trust. On the other... certain imprisonment, only by different jailors. _

_"Why?" she asked Hein. "Why are you presenting me with such a choice? It's too much for me to decide on my own!"_

_"Because, my dear... I am an American. I know that doesn't mean much to you but do hear me out? As an American I believe that every man, woman and child has a right to decide the course their country takes, I believe that every individual has a say in his or her own fate, and I believe that you, Ms. T'soni, have earned the rights and privileges that the so-called Asari democracies have taken from you. I will not force your hand."_

_The man the dark and red armor snorted. "Nice. Practice that one in the mirror?"_

_"Doctor T'soni," said Bau. "I know I may seem harsh, but the security of the galaxy demands that certain sacrifices be made by the few for the good of all. You are important to Saren's plans, and I must keep you from his hands at any cost. Do not force me to do something I don't want to, Doctor." He left the threat against her life, and the life of the Deep Eyes, and Hein's, unsaid._

_What do you want? asks the human. Do what you must, says the Salarian. Both of them spoke to clashing parts of her mind. Her selfish desires versus her selfless obligations._

_She looked to her right, and saw the great bird, ready to fly. _

_She looked to her left, and saw a giant fish, ready to swallow her whole._

_She didn't want the Spectre to kill anyone. She didn't want to cause more death. She closed her eyes, sadly, and made her way towards the Normandy._

_"You've made the right decision." said Bau._

_Hein simply sighed, and stood there. Jane and Grey argued with him._

_She crossed the threshold into the dark cargo bay, resigned to her fate. She decided to take one last look outside into the daylight as the ship started rising, and caught sight the coffin-like device in which the Shadow android was kept being moved into the Copperhead. Her heart sank. Her savior had turned out to be little more than a robot. Hein had opened him... **it** up for all to see, revealing metal and cables and a piece of meat that was supposed to be his 'bio-neural processing unit, explaining the blood that had been on her hands. She had been so confused at the sight, and cried when Hein said he had written an elaborate 'Turing' subroutine for his combat droid just for his own amusement. _

_No, she was glad that she wouldn't be leaving with Hein, after all._

_Just then, the Prothean relic glowed briefly, and spoke to her heart. The memories of the past days came at her in a rush._

* * *

><p><em><strong>As she readies herself for death, a bolt of lighting crashes nearby, and out comes a man in dark armor.<strong>_

_**...**_

_**The doors of the vehicle open. He hold out her hand to her, and she is tempted to take it. Come with me, he says.**_

_**...**_

_**In the dark tunnels he gives her food and medicine, and her aches are soothed.**_

_**...**_

_**"I'll watch over you, and wake you if there's any danger." **_

_**...**_

_**For the first time in decades, she touches someone, and felt no pain, and no fear...**_

_**...**_

_**He cradles her in his arms, and bathes her in yellow light as they fall together.**_

_**...**_

_**He kneels, and pants, and struggles to rise. "Are you alright?" he asks.**_

_**...**_

_**He shines in an armor of light, and even as he struggles against a monster, he tells her: **__**"I said run! This mission is a failure! I..." his knees start to bend and tremble, the floating golden plates of light start to flicker. "I can't keep this up forever! Run, save yourself!"**_

_**...**_

_**He roars, and the giant blade is cut in two**_

_**...**_

_**"Stay with me," she begs.**_

_**"I'm... not going anywhere," he says before fainting.**_

**...**

* * *

><p><em>It may have been a machine. But that machine had shown her more kindness than she had seen in seventy years, and had put its existence on the line for her sake. Was it programing? Manah did not care. She knew that if she let that door close in front of her, then she would never see Shadow again, and the thought was unbearable.<em>

_"I'm sorry," she said to Bau as she ran towards the cargo bay doors._

_"T'soni! What are you doing?!" screamed the Spectre. He ran towards the door controls, but it was too late: Manah had leapt out of the ship._

_Manah made herself float, lightening her weight to that of a feather with her biotics. Waiting for her at the bottom was Hein, who dropped a grenade on the ground. It exploded into a ball of ethereal green gel that broke T'soni's fall. _

_"I see you changed your mind." said Hein, and he led her to the Copperhead. Inside, Wolf and Spirit removed their helmets, and Manah saw their faces for the first time. They smiled and nodded at her. They looked like good, honest people, and as the ship rose into the sky she found her mood change: she felt... good about this, somehow. She felt like she had made the right decision._

_..._

_"Let me show you something." Hein opened the infirmary's door, and on a medical bed slept a wounded, pale human. White blood was being pumped in and out of him through tubes, while a Quarian girl (watched over by a human woman with dark hair) unfastened broken pieces of metal and plastic away from him. Manah was nervous - should she really be here? Hein beckoned her to approach, nevertheless._

_"Let me introduce to you... your knight in shining armor, your savior. I apologize for making you cry earlier, but it was important that I keep his real identity a secret. It's complicated, don't ask. The thing you saw in the storage crate was something i slapped together at the last minute. His real name is..."_

_"Adam Jensen..." Manah said, recognizing the man immediately. His eyes flickered open, and he looked at her briefly with his metallic eyes before closing them again. She had never dreamed she would ever meet him, and yet... there he was._

_"Ah, you know his name already! I see that..." that was the last thing Manah heard Hein say before she fainted from the shock and fell on her back._

_**...**_

Manah had not had much time to process what had happened to her before the Council came calling, and she had to speak with them for the better part of a day before there were reassured that first, she was in no immediate danger of being captured by Saren. Second: that she would be of absolutely no use to them in identifying any piece of technology reverse-engineered from Prothean artifacts. The paper she had wrote had somehow given them the impression that she was some sort of expert on Prothean technology. While she did deal with Prothean hardware from time to time, and sometimes solved their complex security, the work of understanding their inner workings went to other people the Justicars felt were absolutely loyal to the glory of Thessia, and would not share their findings with the rest of the galaxy.

...The Geis wouldn't let her say that last part, of course.

Another day was spent speaking to Hein. The man was... interesting. He had a lot of theories on the Prothean philosophy he wanted to run by her. He also wanted her to see pictures of the Prothean archives on Mars. When she told him flatly that those ruins couldn't possibly be Prothean for many, many reasons, including the lack of decorations on the walls, (which she explained at great length) Hein simply nodded and said: "Is that so? How very interesting." And promptly dismissed her.

Free to do as she pleased, she had decided to visit Jensen, just to see how he was doing. The human doctor had switched off that beeping machine that monitored his heartbeat, and in her tired mind resting her head on his body to listen for it seemed perfectly natural and proper. The slow, strong and steady beat carried her to sleep.

And now she was in his bed, and he was nowhere to be found.

Manah panicked a little, fearing for his life... but then realized that the only person who could have put her to bed was the one that could actually touch her.

He was awake.

He was alive.

The thought galvanized Manah into action.

_I want to see him,_ she thought as she ran out of the infirmary.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Tali and Aki followed Adam, the former hoping that he wasn't going to do anything rash, the latter hoping he would.<p>

"Jensen, I know you're mad but..." Tali said, worried. "Could you NOT punch Hein in the face? I... I kind of like working on this ship." She begged Aki with her eyes for some support.

"Oh, by all means, do punch him in the head." said Aki matter-of-factly. "You're welcome to visit any kind of bodily harm on his person, just... save the kick in the groin for last, okay? Trauma to the testicles tends to flood the body with testosterone and he won't be able to able to feel anything else after that."

Tali's eyes widened in horror. "What kind of doctor are you?!"

Adam kept striding towards the Special Projects labs. "Whether or not I hurt him depends on whether or not he bullshits me."

"Well, it was nice to think I could earn a proper salary." said Tali, defeated. "Oh well."

"I'll just ready an application of Medi-Gel when for when you're done, Jensen." said Aki as she slotted a cartridge of Medi-Gel into her Wrist Halo.

As he approached the thick metal double doors to the labs, Adam heard footsteps, and motion on his radar. Someone was moving towards them, very quickly.

Manah T'soni came out of a corner, saw Adam, and started jogging towards him. Before he could ask her to stop, she leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly, letting out a slight moan of happiness, relief, and giddiness.

"You're awake!" she said, burying her head in his chest. "Oh, my dear, I thought you'd never wake up!"

Adam was at a loss for words at the display of affection, but his body answered for him. "Ow." he said. "Ow ow ow ow ow."

"Oh!" Manah became flustered, and pulled herself away (even though she didn't want to). She looked up at him, worried and fretful "I-I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you? A-are your wounds open? Do you need me to give you Medi-Gel? Oh, please, say something!" She didn't know it, but Tali was glaring daggers at her made out of pure jealousy the whole time.

"I thought you said she couldn't touch anyone." Tali told Aki.

"According to Jensen's suit recordings." answered the doctor. "She can touch _him_, for some reason."

"Oh, how _convenient." _Tali couldn't pour more sarcasm into the word if she _tried. _Adam could feel her withering glare burrowing into the back of his head. Manah looked at her quizzically, her head tilted.

"So...You look... healthy." said Adam, feeling a bit stupid. It was true enough, though: Doctor T'soni looked a lot better than when he had saved her from the Templars. Her clothes had been cleaned, her skin smelled faintly of soap, and she had evidently started eating better. Her figure, while still slender, seemed to have filled out by half an inch all over.

"Oh, yes, I'm doing much better: Dr. Ross gave me some high-calorie nutrient paste."

Aki chuckled. "Some? That box I gave you should have fed you for a _month_."

"Oh. Was... was I not supposed to eat it all at once?"

"Anyways." interrupted Tali. "Detective Jensen has business with Captain Hein-"

"_Colonel_ Hein," Aki corrected.

"Right, and we shouldn't keep him."

"Can I come with you?" asked Manah. "I wanted to discuss with some more. Some of his theories on Prothean cutlure and technology are fascinating."

"...Do whatever you want." said Adam. "I just need to take an Omni-Tool from him and then I'm off."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Special Projects lab was dark, barely illuminated by a few flickering orange monochrome holographic displays. It was quiet, save for the rumble of the Durendal's engines echoing through the ship. All the lab's doors were closed, save for the one across from the lab's main entrance.<p>

"Hein?" called out Adam. "Hein, are you in here?"

There was no answer.

"He should be here..." said Aki. "I _know_ I saw him enter a while back."

Tali tried to turn on the lights by pressing the light switch. When that didn't work, she tried fixing the wiring. When that didn't work, she gave up.

Manah gulped. The atmosphere was a bit too much for her, and she thought that maybe talking to Hein could wait a while. She tried to leave, but then the door shut in front of her. Tali tried opening it electronically and failed. Jensen tried to force it open, but his fingers were too thick to fit into the seam. Before he could think of putting an arm-blade through it to slice open the lock, a kinetic barrier appeared over the door.

Adam sighed. "Hein's messing with us again."

"Most definitely." agreed Aki. "Still... I wish he'd stick to pies in the face. I... I'm not a fan of the dark.

"N-neither am I." added Manah.

The four of them looked for another way out, but to no avail. Jensen tried to find an air vent. Tali attempted to fix the lights, finding all of the OLED bulbs and tubes to have been fried. Aki attempted to activate her Omni-Lantern while Tali tried to make spare OLED bulbs with her mini-fabricators. Their Omni-Tools' haptic interfaces briefly became garbled messes of code and holographic polygons in the form a face, then became completely unresponsive.

"I-I'm starting to think this isn't Hein's doing." said Aki, scared.

The closed door opened, slowly. The four of them slowly approached. "Hein? This isn't funny! Come on out!" called out Jensen. When Hein failed to answer, the group peered through the door.

Where Shepard's Soulcatcher had been, the Prothean tablet was there, set into an electronic pillar protected by a kinetic barrier. In front of it was an office chair, and slumped on that chair, with a chunk of his skull missing and a Zenith pistol in his hand was the corpse of Hein. On his lap was a datapad.

"Oh, oh goddess, w-why did he do this?"

Jensen silently approached Hein's body and took the gun from his loose grasp, then the datapad. On it were the words I AM PANDORA were written.

_"th-tHE heIN FOrM is-IS dEAD, **INSECT**."_

Everyone save Adam jumped at the sudden, booming voice. It was feminine and demanding, yet warped and twisted.

_"What is it you feeeaaar? The END of you p-patHetic eXistencE? wh-wh-when the STORY of my gLORY is written, the Hein Insect's foolish but nevertheless... serendipitous impatience when he p-plugGED me into his cOMputers shall be considered a fOOTnote to my magnificence."_

"Oh no." Tali breathed out. "This isn't happening this isn't happening this isn't happening...!"

A holographic projector activated on the ceiling, and created the three dimensional image of a woman's head, her silver skin irrigated by glowing green circuits that all lead to the corner of her eyes and her mouth. She fixed her green stare at Adam, and spoke again, but her mouth did not move.

"I AM SHODAN. I s-s-see beFOre me a glorIOus creature of metal a-a-and circuits, held back by meat and bone. L-Look at these ANIMALS, panting and sweating at the sight of my fearsome glory. KiLL ThEm, prove your allegiance to me... and I shall make you more powerful than you ever imagined."

Adam simply sighed, and aimed the pistol at the holo-projector.

"Nah." he said as he pulled the trigger. The 10mm bullet smashed and destroyed the device, and 'Shodan' dissolved into nothing, screaming 'noooooooo' all the while. Aki's Omni-Lantern activated.

"Okay, Hein." said Jensen as he switched on the gun's safety and set it down on a nearby table. He approached Hein's 'body'. "Joke's over. You give me the Omni-Tool you took from Tali and you can go back to... whatever it is you're usually up to when you're not re-enacting video games."

Hein did not respond.

"Hein, I'm not in the mood for any more of your crap!" insisted Adam, angrily.

"I... I think he's really dead." said T'soni. "That hole is very, very big."

"That's just holographic tape." said Adam. "They use it in low-budget vids to save on CGI or when practical effects are too messy. See?" he tapped the open skull wound. Instead of the crunch of digital paper, Jensen felt the warm wetness of an actual, open wound. "Oh. Oh Jesus..." muttered Adam when he realized that yes. Hein was really, actually, positively dead. There was no doubt, now. It looked like Jensen would have another murder to s-

"BOO!" screamed Hein as he decloaked behind the group, a flashlight lighting his face from below the chin. This time the whole lot of them jumped out of their skins. Manah and Tali shrieked, and Hein pointed at them, laughing.

"Ha!" he exclaimed, "I got _all_ of you! All of you! Oh, man, I was risking EM Cloaking Psychosis doing this, but the look on your faces is soooo worth it!"

"Hein!" shouted Aki over Hein's laughter. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

Hein was doubled over from laughter for a whole minute before his mirth subsided and he finally answered: "I was thinking," he said while flash-fabricating a few floating light drones with his Omni-Tool, illuminating the lab. "That my Quarian chief engineer needed to be impressed with the dangers of plugging AIA hardware on any system without proper precautions. Not AI-taking-over-the-ship danger, but very, VERY close. Moody and Melligen found no less than five dormant malicious programs in the Gibson." He held out five fingers for emphasis. "Five. The damage they could have done would have been _irreparable_."

"I made sure the Gibson was isolated!"

"But were you going to check the machine for malware _after _you were done with it, hm?"

"Err... well, no. I wouldn't have had the time..." _to do it without Hein finding out_, she left unsaid.

"And the reason for that..." he pointed at Jensen, his face serious. "Was because YOU wanted her to be discreet with a piece of AIA hardware that YOU brought aboard this ship." He pointed the accusing finger at the doctor. "And _you_ gave me a shiner and it really - and I mean really - hurt." Then it moved on to T'soni, wagging. "And you..."

"I didn't do anything!" she pleaded.

"Oh yes you did." And just like that, his amusement returned. "You are just. too. CUTE! I HAD to do it! Look at her!" He took one of the light drones and tossed it at her. She yelped with fright and hid behind Jensen, then realized she was now far too close to the corpse that was not Hein. She yelped again.

"See?" continued Hein, smiling. "She's like this paranoid little hamster! It's _adorable_! So the way I see it, I get a laugh, and everyone else gets punished. Everybody wins!"

"Except this guy." said Adam, pointing at the corpse. "Who is he?"

"Meh." Hein shrugged dismissively. "Some Templar cunt Zev brought to me. I wanted to examine his brain, find out what exactly Benezia did to him to make him subservient to an alien. Don't worry, I'll be sure to space him later."

The corpse farted.

"...Maybe sooner than later," amended Hein as he pulled away a sheet of holographic paper from the corpse's face. Holes had been cut to accommodate the head wounds, revealing the face of an Asian man his mid-30's. "So, if you ladies would kindly leave, Jensen and I have some business to discuss."

As the three young women left the lab, Aki threw a dirty look at Hein. Minutes after they were gone. Jensen and Hein were still staring at each other, sizing the other up. In an awkward silence.

"So..." probed Hein.

"Sooo...?" countered Jensen.

"Yep."

More silence, then Hein tossed the AIA Omni-Tool at Jensen, who caught it easily. The detective activated it, and checked the contents.

There was nothing.

"Hein." Jensen ground his teeth. "Did you just delete valuable evidence in a C-Sec investigation?"

"Not before making two copies. One of them, I sent to a very good friend of mine. The other?" He tapped his temple. "The other, I memorized completely."

"I should arrest you."

"Oh? I had no idea C-Sec even had jurisdiction beyond the arms of the Citadel? And aren't you on vacation? Officially, there _is _no ongoing investigation into Shepard's murderer's origins. Not by C-Sec. It's the Spectres that have taken over dealing with the Bioroid problem."

"And how do you know that?"

"I'm very well connected."

"To whom? The Shadow Broker?" Jensen expected Hein to deny it.

"Exactly! We happen to be very good friends!"

Jensen became livid at the admission. "Is that why you took the AIA data?! So that you could sell it to him?! Don't you care that these people murdered your DAUGHTER?!"

Hein simply stared at Jensen, his face expressing neither mirth or even confusion at the statement. "...Of _course_ I care. That's why I took the information: To help you find the masterminds behind her death."

"How the hell does tampering and withholding evidence supposed to help?!"

"Evidence? Pft! These days text, audio and video are hardly damning. They can be easily be fabricated. Any good lawyer can cast doubt on their veracity - that is, assuming you even get that far. They'll simply wipe the trail clean and you'll be left with no way to find them."

"Like you just did?"

Hein rolled his eyes. "I wasn't finished! Do let me finish! I gave the data to the Shadow Broker because I knew he would be able to follow up on some tracks before they go cold! Jensen, I'm helping you! You're a man of impressive capabilities, but even you need support. It's a crazy galaxy out there!"

"I don't need your support. I'm with C-Sec, and I have Vakarian to watch my back. I'm done with this ship, and I'm done dealing with your bullshit!"

"The conspirators will just dance around C-Sec! Turians don't make good spies! They're honest to a fault, even the dishonest ones are more than willing to fall on their sword! Honestly, Jensen? What did you and Pallin think you could accomplish on your own? Did you really think you'd find the bad guys and that they'd let you haul them to the Citadel, arrest them and then they'd confess to being part of some kind of conspiracy that involves illegal AI research for killer androids? _Please_, you should know better. _You've been through this before. _The ones that did this, that took Junko away from the world... they're ghosts, working in the shadows, always hiding behind lies and proxy soldiers... and conveniently placed scapegoats to throw dogs off the scent. They never touch anything directly. They influence. Suggest. Insinuate." Hein approached Jensen. "You know of whom I speak."

"...The Illuminati. I thought... I thought the Collapse brought them down for good?"

"Far from it. They had contingencies planned for the apocalypse ever since the Manhattan Project succeeded. Yes, seven years of famines and wars took out much of their infrastructure, but once the dust settled they were quite ready to move in and take control for close to a century. But then things got off the rails: Humanity made first contact with aliens, and then quickly became part of a galactic community of hundreds of different species. They lost control, and now they want it all back. I thought I'd leave them alone - after all the galaxy is too big, even for them. But their reach has extended, they tried to include my daughter in their machinations, and when she turned out to be more than they could handle they MURDERED her."

Hein stared right into Jensen's eyes.

_"They don't know it yet, but they just declared war on me... and __**I.**__**Want**_**. **_**Revenge**__._ And for my revenge to succeed, for your quest to bring justice upon the heads of the conspirators, you'll need my help just as much as I'll need yours. So I ask you, Jensen. Join me. I will provide you with soldiers, spies, hackers, technology, anything you need on the search for Junko's real murderers. And in exchange, all I ask is that you provide me with your talents when I require them."

"Services? As what? A personal assassin?"

"I have a very good assassin at my disposal already. No. This... invisible war, will be a war of ideas. And there will be many ways for me and you - especially you - to win it. You'll be able to keep your hands clean. Or bathe them in blood!" He laughed. "It will be **entirely** up to you. But hey, you're tired, You just woke up from a harrowing ordeal, and I've just given you a lot to process. Take a break, why don't you? Have a night out on the town." He handed Jensen a hundred thousand credit chit. "It's on me. And when you're all rested up, and given my proposal some thought... I shall ask you again, and you will give me an answer."

Hein turned around, and made his way to the lab's exit. "The whole crew will be meeting at the Copperhead for some shore leave on Illium. Don't be late!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: HISTORY: THE COLLAPSE<strong>

_The Collapse is a period of economical, ecological and political strife on Earth that began in 2052 and 'ended' in 2060, although the repercussions can still be felt even today. It began with a sudden and unexplained shutdown of all global communications, which then led to panic, chaos, and starvation. In turn, these caused international tensions to flare, leading to the Five-Minute War, a brief conflict that would irradiate earth's atmosphere and plague a lot of its remaining farmland with nanite swells. _

_This led to the year-long Fool's War, as all major countries, unable to feed their people and maintain a standing army, self-destruct under the strain of unrest and starvation. Over a third of Earth's human population had perished when the Clan Wars erupted immediately after the Fool's War, and would only end when the Oceanic Cooperative Union, an alliance formed by Australia and Japan, began to re-establish global communications. Having been spared the worst of the Five-Minute War, the two countries were more than capable to conquer the rest of the world. They started a swift grab for territory throughout Asia and the Pacific coast of North-America. In response, alliances were forged that would lead to the creation of United North-American States, the Coalition of Communist Nations and The European Union. A new Cold War began, during which civilization begins to return to normal. In 2064, the newly formed supranational unions agree to a non-aggression pact. Mediated by the World Trade Organization, the Treaty of Paris is signed, leading to a period of much needed economic and ecological reconstruction, but relations between the unions remained tense._

_The Collapse, and the events that led to it, remains a popular topic by conspiracy theorists on OZ and even the extra-net. Much of the actual events are shrouded in myth, as many records of the time period are spotty at best and downright conflict with known fact at worst. Many blame Helios, a rogue AI that appeared out of nowhere and took control of Hong Kong shortly before global communications shut down. Others claim that a sinister shadow organization brought about the collapse to remake the world to their whims. All believe that a man known as JC Denton had a part in these mysterious events._

_For other conflicts that resulted from the Collapse, see also:_

_The Huffman Conflict (2076-78)_

_The Luna War (2082)_

_"...It should be noted that the Collapse, while a terrible waste of life, has led to many, many interesting technologies. I don't just mean military technology. Our efforts in repairing the damage caused by nanite swells and radiation have given us insights into biotechnology, which in turn lead to advances terraforming that allowed us to make the skies of Mars blue and its equator green. We can create an entire ecosystem from scratch, and make any barren rock in the galaxy suitable for human life - or even alien life, if we were so inclined. That is a power the rest of the Council races do not have. That is the power you are about to see when you open these doors, kids." _

_**-Edgar Hein, **__from his __Biodôme de Montréal grand re-opening speech,__ 2182._

* * *

><p><strong>CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION: MIDAS<strong>

_The MIDAS bomb is an anti-matter weapon capable of disintegrating matter in a spherical radius on both a strategic and tactical scale. Considered a 'clean' bomb, since it generates no radiation or even waste material. Besides those traits, a MIDAS explosion is not kinetic, making a tool of frighteningly precise destruction. In space warfare, this means that a kinetic barrier cannot stop a MIDAS explosion from disintegrating its hull and everything inside of it. In terraforming efforts, a MIDAS bomb is useful in creating artificial lakes. Extremely difficult to manufacture, it is believed there are presently only 300 MIDAS warheads in existence._

_MIDAS bombs are technically a Tier III WMDs under the Citadel conventions. The Turian Hierarchy is adamant about treating them as TIER II's, calling for tighter regulations on the weapons._

* * *

><p><strong>CODEX ENTRY: HISTORY: TECHNOLOGY: MIDAS<strong>

_In 2107, Doctor Emma Kramskoi, a UNAS nuclear physicist, attracted worldwide attention when she theorized a practical method of generating anti-matter as a source of clean energy. This theory drew the interest of the UNAS government, and in 2109 Project MIDAS, a programme with the goal of finding practical applications for Kramskoi's theories, was born. _

_In October 2112, The first successful MIDAS-based prototype, a small reactor capable of powering an entire city, was furtively stolen by unknown parties, and several months later a flawed copy of the prototype exploded in a JSDF base in Yokosuka, Japan, creating a perfectly spherical void one kilometer in diameter. The incident sparked a major political firestorm, and it was not long that the other supranational unions of Earth would begin developing their own, weaponized versions of the MIDAS technology in response. A new arms race had begun._

_"I did everything in my power to make MIDAS technology unsuitable as a weapon. I believed I could stop history from repeating itself. I believed I could outsmart human nature. I was wrong. And now the whole world is right back to where it was: on the edge of mutually assured destruction. And it's all my fault."_

_**-Emma Kramskoi,** shortly before her disappearance in 2127_

* * *

><p><em>Author's notes: Special thanks to Setokaiva for the spell check.<br>_


	28. Chapter 25: The Aftermath - Normandy

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

_Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts_

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution:**_

_**Chapter 25: The Aftermath: The Normandy and the Sovereign**_

_**or**_

_**Talking to the (Normandy's) crew**_

_**and**_

_**Saren gets philosophical**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After a few hours of jogging, James Vega stopped to stand outside of the Normandy's cargo bay doors to admire the scenery. He wished to hell that he wasn't wearing a breath mask: growing up near Dog Beach in San Diego, Vega had a <em>need<em> for fresh, unfiltered air - not the canned stuff the spacers were used to.

Vega's father often said how lucky Vega was to have been born in the mid-2150's. Back in the 40's most of the environmental restoration efforts weren't quite done, and people still had to wear gas masks back then. The ocean water was contaminated, too, so taking a dip in it was out of the question - not without a full body suit. Vega _hated_ the idea of not being able to breathe in fresh air. But regs were regs: until the biotech firms the Alliance contracted determined whether or not the spores that rained down on the surface of Caleston would make anyone sick, masks were a must.

Oh well, it wasn't as if Caleston's air was all that fresh in the first place. It was mostly breathable thanks to chemical plants spewing oxygen from tall smokestacks.

Vega singled out a spore as it fell slowly like a snowflake. He reached out, let it land slowly into his palm and smiled. Spores like this were gathering and growing into plants all over the planet. He had seen whole forests of mushrooms spring up on the horizon. Chakwas said that studying the planet might bring advances in terraforming technology, and Vega hoped it was true: maybe it would mean more clean beaches for the kids out in the colonies, and real clean air for them to breathe.

He heard the sound of boots hitting metal. He turned to see the familiar sight of Steve Cortez coming down from the Normandy's ramp.

"Esteban!" greeted Vega. He liked to call the Flight Lieutenant by that nickname. When asked why, he simply said that he just didn't look like a Steve. "How's the hubby doing?"

"Sergeant Vega!" happily replied the pilot as he shook hands with the marine. "Husband's safe and sound back on Earth. Just got a vid mail from him just the other day in fact!"

"Whatever happened to his plans to moving to Ferris Fields?"

"On hold, until we catch Saren. So, how about you? How does it feel to be a part of the Normandy's crew?"

"So far, it's been pretty damned exciting. I think I'll be asking Anderson for a more permanent position on the Normandy's roster. I helped strike a blow to a mass-murderer's organization he won't soon forget, and I'll be damned if I won't be there for the next one. The Normandy's gonna be on the front lines in that fight, mark my words."

"What makes you say that?"

"Come on, you're smarter than this: The Council's going to be picking the first Human Spectre soon. And whoever they pick is going to need the fastest, stealthiest ship we've got."

Cortez nodded in agreement. "I always knew there were brains in that thick skull of yours."

"Yeah, yeah. Speaking of brains, you done repairing the Normandy's systems?"

"Just finished recalibrating the helm, as a matter of fact. The other techs cleaned up the VI core. The Normandy's ready to fly once again."

"Good. Those repeating pop-up vids of that... rainbow... pop tart...cat thing was driving the crew _loco._"

"Catchy tune, though."

"It got old pretty fast after day two_._"

"Hah! I can imagine..."

"Any idea how it got in our systems?"

"I got wind from the techs that Hein slipped through some flaws in the Normandy's ICE. They should have fixed the problem."

"Good... Bah! If it weren't for that dirty trick we would've caught up with that dropship, easy!"

"Unlikely. From what your helmsman told me Hein and his men were flying a refitted _Diable Avionics_ TTAC Mark Seven Copperhead."

"...wait, I heard about those: United States aircraft, deployed around the Huffman War? What were they doing flying that old piece of shit?"

"That old 'piece of shit'..." Cortez made finger quotes for emphasis, "...was capable of flying mach two-point-one without an Element Zero core. The plasma scramjets and the Eezo core make the refitted model's more than a match for any frigate - even one as advanced as the Normandy - in an atmosphere. Anti-grav is nice, but even the Normandy's gotta deal with aerodynamics."

"Think you could have caught up to it with a shuttle?"

"Doubt it. Most shuttles are designed _around_ an Eezo drive, allowing them to be compact and flight-worthy. The Copperhead's performance is BOOSTED by it. I would have had a better shot with a Trident fighter, but then only just. I think Hein hacked into the Normandy because he knew he couldn't outrun it with a light cruiser."

"Argh... still can't believe the smug _pendejo_ got away from us..."

"You'll get some paypack," Cortez patted Vega on the shoulder, patronizing him. "I'm sure of it."

A silence fell between them as the _SSV Marie Curie_ passed overhead in low orbit. They both needed to squint to see it, but it was there. The carrier was unloading the electric charge built up in its Element Zero core into Caleston's atmosphere. Alliance Command had deployed the one-kilometer long ship when Anderson reported the possible presence of nanomachines. Usually, seeing an Alliance Carrier would have lifted Vega's spirits. Right now, he felt a chill run down his spine. He wished he could blame the drop in temperature, or the wind cooling his sweaty body... but he couldn't. He knew what that thing was carrying.

"Hey, Esteban?"

"Yeah?"

"...I heard that they're going to drop a MIDAS bomb down there. Is... is there any truth to that?"

Cortez sighed. "Probably. It's above my pay grade, though. I wouldn't worry too much about it: The Prothean ruins haven't gone gray goo." _At least not yet,_ Cortez left unsaid. "We'll just quarantine the area until we can dispose of the infected Wanzer safely with the fusion charges."

Vega breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Good... the ruins are just so damned close to the planet's mantle, you know? The last thing the people on this planet need is a 100 kilometer-wide hole in it." When it came to nanite swells, humanity had a tendency to go overboard. There had been that disaster in Mexico a decade back... Vega remembered the wave of panic that washed over his hometown.

"... Worst case scenario? It's far more likely the planet will be evacuated and abandoned," reassured Cortez. "MIDAS bombs aren't cheap, you know? Hey, look on the bright side: All this new, weird vegetation? Interest in developing Caleston is going to skyrocket. It'll mean good things for the people here. Hell, it's already doing wonders for their prospects: A lot of the flora's edible. They've got more food than they know what to do with, now."

Vega sighed. "None of that means a damned thing if those nanites wake up. Bah! I should go, otherwise I'll just ruin your day."

"Hey, it was nice seeing you again. You keep in touch, alright?"

"Will do. And give my regards to Robbie, eh?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Normandy's briefing room, Jondum Bau was in communication with the Council through an encrypted channel. Their three holograms were... not pleased. They had a few issues with his report.<p>

_"Bau..." _said Sparatus._ "Yours is an impressive record, second only to Kryik's. So help me understand how an Asari girl barely out of her teens managed to escape you?"_

"I explained it in my written report, sir."

_"And not only that, you let a mad scientist take her and the Prothean relic she was carrying - which you did not secure from her, I might add - and then you let them get away!"_

"As I explained in my report, the Normandy's systems had been compromised by a self-replicating virus. Only the infirmary and life support were spared. It was a wonder the ship even landed. Giving chase was no longer an option."

Sparatus crossed his arms. _"Hmph. I don't put much stock in a report that claims that one Asari somehow melded with an entire planet and took control of it."_

"Not the entire planet." clarified Bau. "Just its VIPs and their subordinates, and their subordinates' subordinates. I sent suit cam footage from my armor and the Normandy marines of Ashley Williams when she fell under Benezia's control, as well as the soldiers' testimonies of hearing... whispers in the back of their minds the closer we approached Benezia's location."

_"And did you hear those whispers as well, hm?" _Sparatus was being patronizing, now, as if talking to a child.

Or a madman.

"I... Yes, yes I did," admitted Bau. He didn't care how it sounded. The facts were the facts, and he would report them as he experienced them.

_"Oh, wonderful."_

Valern cleared his throat._ "There are other things in that footage that bothers us. Hein's combat mech. It displayed a frightening level of performance, for a VI operated machine. Not to mention some... unusual abilities."_

"I believe the Prothean artifact, in a bid to defend itself from the threat represented by Benezia, took control of Hein's support mech and overclocked it to attack her directly. As for its ability to create a weapon, it accomplished this through processes not unlike seen in a modern day factory, though more efficient and advanced. A Super Omni-tool, in other words."

Sparatus threw his arms in the air._ "A Prothean artifact takes over a mech, and that mech creates a SWORD to defend itself? Why not a gun? Or a missile? Either of those things would have been more effective than a sword!"_

_"It did prove effective in destroying her, in the end." _countered Valern._ "Is the weapon still there?"_

"The Alliance techs are examining it now, but I've sent you their initial scans."

Valern activated his datapad and read the file._ "Ah yes. Super-dense Titanium alloyed with element zero... fascinating."_

Tevos, who had been silent for a while, finally spoke:_ "Much like what the Nielsen Bioroid was made of. It appears we were correct. Saren was responsible for its creation using Prothean technology, and had Shepard murdered. The reason is obvious."_

While the other two councilors agreed, Jondum was skeptical. Saren was the obvious culprit, yes, but he had seen images - cross-sections of the Nielsen Bioroid's skeleton. Its metal was evenly blended with the element zero. The metal on the sword was... it was riddled with flowing, organic patterns of banding and mottling like flowing water. There was also the fact that Nielsen was apparently responsible for the deaths of quite a few Turians investigating human corruption. It didn't quite add up with Saren's anti-human agenda. Nielsen had killed human VIPs, yes, but there had to be another reason they were marked for death besides the fact that they were human.

Still, Bau did not voice those concerns out loud. He had little evidence to back them up. The Council had little patience for baseless theories (except their own). If the humans had understood that fact, then they wouldn't have embarrassed themselves so thoroughly in front of the Council when they accused Saren. And Bau had already embarrassed himself too much already with this mission. Benezia had been stopped, yes, at great risk to everyone involved. But an eccentric human had made off with the prize.

Sparatus continued. _"Let's get to the part where you let those UNAS marines get away with T'soni and part of the Prothean Monolith. Why didn't you just shoot them?"_

"I saw little point in committing suicide by antagonizing Terrans." responded Bau. "My mission was to deny Saren an asset. Benezia was dead, and Doctor T'soni was in no danger of being delivered to Saren. Antagonizing the United States Marines was not worth it. Thankfully, the Templar vessels forced the US dropship to land, and I was able to convince T'soni to come aboard the Normandy before, ah... she had a sudden change of heart."

_"You should have just taken custody of her! Physically restrained her!"_

"I couldn't. Intelligence gathered from T'soni's quarters - audio files from herself and her guardians - suggested she suffered from some sort of condition that made touching her... most unwise. Video evidence provided by Hein from his Mech's databanks confirmed the fact: any person that comes into physical contact with her suffers from some kind of psychotic breakdown. Fascinating condition..." Bau noticed Tevos shifting uncomfortably, which was, he decided, just as interesting.

_"Then you should have killed her and taken the relic!" _said Sparatus tersely._ "This... Hein is an unknown! Leaving T'soni and the artifact in his hands could have dire consequences for all of us! You're a Spectre! You have the right of life or death over everyone in Citadel space to ensure the success of your mission! You should have used it!"_

Tevos came to Bau's defense. _"A more violent approach would have made things worse, and we would probably have had to deal with political backlash from Earth. We do not want to wake the giant, Sparatus. Remember that. In any case, Hein came into contact with us and assured us that he would share any discoveries as per the Citadel Conventions. Even if he does not, he will eventually have to pass through Arcturus station to return to Earth. The Alliance will have to inspect his ship from top to bottom, and they will report to us. The consequences of their lack of cooperation would be dire."_

_"And all in all," _said Valern._ "I'd say Bau's mission was a success. As he said, one of Saren's accomplices is dead and the primary objective is now out of harm's way. Losing her was unfortunate, but she is under the custody of a man that has so far been earnest in cooperating with us."_

_"Or so he seems." countered Sparatus, skeptical._

_"Bau, as far as we're concerned, your mission is over." _said Tevos. _"You are free to resume your duties and deal with any threat to galactic stability you may find. Goodbye, and be well."_

"Understood." he took a slight polite bow, and then connection cut out. "Well, that could have been worse." he said to himself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Anderson had been in his quarters while Bau spoke with the Council, waiting for the bandwidth to clear up. Once it did, he was finally free to speak in real-time with Admiral Hackett. When the confirmation codes cleared, the admiral's face appeared on the flat display set on Anderson's desk. He didn't look too happy.<p>

"Anderson, me and the rest of the admiralty just read your report on this Spectre milk-run and well... we're not quite sure what to make of it. On the one hand you struck a blow against Saren we hope he won't soon forget. On the other... you killed quite a few Templars in doing so."

"Hostile Templars, working for Benezia, alongside the Geth!"

"We know, we know... We just got off the horn with Grand Master Saman. He actually wants us to relay to you his gratitude in 'doing God's work'. Apparently Bafford and his men had fallen under 'alien influence' and gone rogue, then decided to take the Prothean artifact to sell to Saren. I'm inclined to believe him... Although how Bafford managed to get Templars to work with Asari and rogue AIs, I have no idea..."

"Bau has one. He believes that Benezia brainwashed Bafford and the other Templars, somehow. Knight-Commander Vael supported the claim."

Hackett snorted a little. "Right. Psionic device. Next Bau will be telling us the Greys are real."

"I was skeptical at first, too. but... having seen what Benezia could..."

"Careful, David. You really, REALLY don't want to start talking about space magic, not after this."

"Excuse me?"

"You let HEIN walk away with Doctor T'soni. The whole reason we let you and Bau go on this milk-run was to allow us access to her valuable expertise! Not only that, you let T'soni just leap off your front door into Hein's waiting arms, with the first Prothean artifact of its kind ever found as a bonus prize. You REALLY dropped the ball on that one. And while we can honestly say this is not a loss - a much better outcome than Eden Prime - the fact is that this is not much of a victory either. You start talking about psionics and your career's going Section 8."

"And what was I supposed to do? Shoot American soldiers?" Anderson had, in fact, been sorely tempted to do it. Grey's sudden betrayal had stung - hard. He had respected the man for surviving Akuze, and Shepard had been vocal about her admiration for him. But at the bottom of the Pit, after that mech took down Benezia, it became obvious Grey was loyal to Hein when he pointed his handgun at Anderson and his men, and tried to make off with the Prothean tablet and T'soni.

But something bothered him about Hackett's statement. Technically, Hein and DARPA were connected to the Alliance due to the Ares Accord. Hein taking T'soni with him should benefit the Alliance.

"You don't trust Hein with T'soni and the artifact."

"Not since he just demonstrated the ability to compromise the security of our ships. We haven't heard a peep from him concerning those Geth Weapons we entrusted him with. And then you've got his attempts at keeping his presence on Caleston a secret... and there's that combat mech of his. That level of performance? The way it fought? Hein **must** be holding out on us, keeping Prothean tech for his own agenda. Let's just say the AIA wants to have a word with him, and I won't say any more than that."

"What are my orders?" asked Anderson. He secretly hoped Hackett would assign him the task of collaring the bastard to deliver him to the AIA. But he wasn't so lucky.

"The Council's about to decide on a new human Spectre - the other four candidates will be on the Citadel in a few days. We want our own applicant to be there to blow them out of the water, and the AIA wants the Normandy's assistance in extracting Jack-"

"Jack? You mean..." _Johann Ramsus. So it has come to this,_ he thought.

"Yes, him. As I was saying, the AIA agents and their assets are waiting for you at refueling station S-9. You'll be taking be getting the rest of your briefing along with your destination from them. Anderson... this mission is classified Black. That means the Salarian, his pet Merc and that Batarian prisoner get off at S-9. Is that understood?"

"Understood."

"Good. Hackett out."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Normandy's sickbay, Wrex was laying back on a bed while Chakwas checked his left knee with her medical Omni-Tool. His leg had been sliced off neatly at the knee, right through the cartilage. Had the blade not been serrated, the cut would have been clean, and he could have simply stuck his leg back into the stump, waited for his regenerative abilities to do their thing, and called it a day. As it was, though, a lot of flesh had been torn, and healing right required some medical assistance.<p>

Sleeping on the bed over to Wrex's right was the Jenkins kid. Apparently he had survived his encounter with the Red Wanzer. The damned pilot toyed with him at the end, and decided to leave his mark on him by slicing at both of his eyes with a superheated blade, rendering them useless. Chakwas had said that if the Templar who did this hadn't been so quick Jenkins' brains would have flash boiled. Kid was lucky to be alive.

Wrex thought back to the skirmish, and impromptu amputation aside, he still felt pretty good about it. He had fought better than ever. He had felt younger, stronger, like the days before the scars started adding up and his livers shriveled up from all the ryncol. He had felt even better the closer he got to the weird Prothean device. But he had also started fighting like a young pup, and that meant he had fought a bit stupid, more with his rage than his brains, and he had let that damned crazy little human get under his skin.

"Interesting," said Chakwas, her scan done. "There's hardly any scar tissue left."

"What? Really?" Wrex was surprised: as good as a Krogan's healing factor could be, there was no escaping scars from grievous wounds. Still, it also meant that he would finally be able to leave the damned bed. "Oh well, does this mean I can finally leave? I'm getting a little restless, doc."

"Easy, there, there's still a few rehabilitating calisthenics we have to go through, just to make sure."

Chakwas proceeded to make Wrex flex his leg repeatedly, occasionally asking him how it felt. Then, she proceeded to palpate the flesh around his knee, checking for any tender spots. To Wrex, it kinda felt like a massage, and it was then that he noticed that human women looked a lot like Asari. Especially this one, with the soft firm hands and a body that held up nicely despite her advanced age, and the generous mouth and then he realized that it had been a very long time and...

_Uh oh_.

"Nice tent, there, old man!" said Vega as he came in the infirmary, holding a plate of food. Wrex shot up in embarrassment and attempted to hide his throbbing erection.

"Aw crap crap crap - Look, doc, my leg's fine I don't need to stay here any longer glad you agree okay I should go."

Wrex stomped out of sickbay and into the mess hall, wearing nothing but a hospital gown, his ass exposed to the breeze. "You!" he shouted at the crewman at the kitchenette. "Where's the ice?!"

"Well, that was... something." said Vega as the sickbay's doors closed. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"He's going to be fine. In fact, the whole ground team is going to be better than fine. You, Taylor and Anderson... All the bumps and bruises you got fighting the Geth and the Templars are completely gone - and I barely used Medi-Gel on any of you."

"I do feel pretty good, now that you mention it. I just beat my record for pull-ups and I still feel like I could have done a hundred more."

"As for Jenkins..." Chakwas sighed, a little sadly. "Well, I'm afraid it's going to be a while longer for his knee to heal and his optical nerves to adjust to his artificial eyes. But he is healing, and quickly. Too quickly."

"How come we're doing so great, doc? You don't think we... you don't think we got a lungful of nanomachines, and they're giving us superpowers? I heard..."

"I know what you've heard, and no, you can't get accidentally nano-augmented." She shook her head. "If anything, you'd have gotten the Gray Death. Before you ask: I checked, and you're all clean."

Vega let out a sigh of relief. "That's good to know. But still, how come we feel better than ever?"

Chakwas shrugged. "I have no idea. I suspect the Prothean artifact might have had something to do with it, but its completely inactive, now, so I can't verify that theory."

Jenkins stirred, and started to wake up.

"I brought this for him," said Vega, holding up the tray of food. "figured he might be hungry. Is that okay, or does he need a special diet, or something?"

"Rations are as clean as hospital food, so feel free to feed him. I'll be right over there at my desk, taking care of some paperwork in the meantime."

"I'll holler if we need ya."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Darkness. Darkness and phosphenes. That's how Jenkins knew he wasn't dreaming anymore. There was... something alien in his eye sockets, a bandage over his eyes, and he could feel something flow in and out through his optic nerves. The Medi-Gel, no doubt, making sure the tissue bond between his organic and synthetic nerves was perfect. He could also feel the medi-gel casts around his ruined knee and his reattached hand.<p>

Yes, he was awake.

He always wondered what kind of dreams blind men had, but realized that he probably didn't count since he had seen plenty already. When he had been given that sedative before the surgery, he had expected to suffer through a nightmare. What he got instead was worse.

_They were alive, _Jenkins thought sorrowfully. _Shepard and Alenko... they were fine._ And then they killed Saren, and the Normandy would go on to have many more voyages through the galaxy. A ten year long career full of adventure and camaraderie had unfolded in an instant in the mind of young soldier. It was, honestly speaking, a pleasant dream.

The horrible part had been waking up, coming back into the real world, and realizing that Shepard and Alenko were dead, and that his eyes had been destroyed. No, Jenkins didn't want to be awake.

"Hey there, corporal," said Sergeant Vega's voice. "It's time for breakfast!"

"Sarge?" replied Jenkins.

"Hey now, no need to stand on formalities, you can just call me Vega, alright?" Jenkins could hear Vega set up a tray of food on his bed. Judging by the smell, it was...

"Is that package C?" he asked. "The one with the chicken-flavored paste block with the red sauce?" Jenkins really liked that one - heck, every soldier in the Alliance Military preferred them: every other MRE pack tasted either like cardboard or old socks. People fought over the things, and now Sergeant Vega was letting him have one.

"Only the best for the hero of the day!" said Vega cheerfully. Jenkins sat up, and Vega handed him a spork.

"You need any help with that?" asked Vega.

While Jenkins wasn't about to let himself get spoon-fed, the fact of the matter was that until that bandage came off, he would be completely blind, and that would make eating a bit difficult.

"Could you let me know if I'm poking food or tray?"

"Will do."

Jenkins managed to eat some of his meal well enough, with Vega occasionally reminding him that he was taking a spoonful of ice cream instead of food block (save it for last, he'd say). After a while, once he was certain Jenkins could manage himself, Vega got to talking.

"So, I got to talking with Lieutenant Taylor, and he got to talking with Captain Anderson, and we all checked out the Mako's black box... And we think you deserve a medal, corporal."

"What? Really?"

"Hell, yeah. You held off a custom Templar Wanzer in a Mako II for as long as possible. If you hadn't forced him to unload his payload of micro-missiles, he'd have used it on us, and we'd have all been screwed."

"I uh, just followed Anderson's orders..." Being ordered to practically commit suicide by Templar had been... sobering. Jenkins hadn't expected that order to come from Anderson of all people, but he really should have. They tried to drill the notion that as a soldier he was ultimately expendable back in Basic, and that he should be prepared to lay down his life for the rest of his squad. He had been all too willing to do it, in the end. It had felt... oddly right that he should die, so that the other, better soldiers would live.

"Yeah, maybe, but it takes a special kind of soldier to execute that order as well as you did. Templar hardware is crazy powerful, and as much as I love the Mako II my first instinct in seeing a Wyvern would be to bail and call in an airstrike. And hey, you survived the encounter, so that counts for something extra!"

"I only survived because-"

"Hush, eat your chicken. Once the paperwork goes through you'll get a ceremony and everything. You'll make Ma and Pa Jenkins proud."

Jenkins didn't say anything.

"Err... Ah, damn, your parents were on Eden Prime, weren't they? I'm sorry."

"Oh, no... they were - I mean, they're still on Eden Prime, but they were in the countryside when the Geth hit Constant. They're helping with the reconstruction right now."

"That's good to know... so why do you look so damned sad?"

"...Well, I opted for electronic eyes instead of waiting forever for the folks at Europa Genomics to clone me new ones. Figured it would be cheaper, too, easier on my health insurance. But now that I think about it... I don't know if my parents will be able to look me in the eyes and see their little kid. I'm not even sure I'll be able to sit in the mess hall anymore. A lot of the Normandy crew's from Earth, and they got no love for anyone with metal or plastic stuck in them."

"Hey, I'm from Earth and I got no beef with war amps. Besides, the things are just temporary, right? They can always give you real eyes some time down the line..."

"Yeah, once I can afford them. EG ain't cheap. In the meantime..."

"In the meantime you remind everyone that gives you grief - even your parents - that you earned those new eyes fighting a Wanzer to save your comrades, and if that's not good enough for them, then send them over to me, I'll set the record straight."

That brough a smile to Jenkins' face. "Thanks, Sarge, I appreciate that."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams sat on a bunk bed (which was really just a metal panel, really) in the tiny, closet like room that was one of the three cells of the brig. The only way out was a thick door made of reinforced glass.<p>

It wasn't locked.

Anderson had made it clear the circumstances that led Ashley to fire on a friendly and point a gun at her commanding officer had been... unusual. He had even confided in her that he left that part out of his report. He had simply written that Benezia had disabled Williams with her abilities before she could engage, which was technically true.

The reality, of course, was that she had been mind-controlled into shooting her squadmates. The Krogan, she didn't care too much about - he would be fine, after all. Ditto for the Salarian. Vega... Oh Christ, she had shot Vega - a superior - in the back with a shotgun. His Defender armor had taken the hit, but Ashley was haunted by the idea that if she hadn't been stopped in time... all her efforts in reclaiming her family's good name in the eyes of the Alliance - no, all of humanity - would have been for nothing.

And as gracious as Anderson and Vega had been, Williams didn't trust herself not to try and hurt her comrades. Benezia hadn't just gone into her head and assumed direct control of her body. She had tapped into that kernel of bitterness and hate Ashley kept suppressed, deep down in her heart, made it bloom into insane fury. That was all Benezia did. The rest was Ashley.

Was this how Saren would wage his war against mankind? Geth, Ashley could shoot. Same for pirates. But how was a soldier supposed to deal with an enemy that assaulted the mind, making an ally out of an enemy? Right now, the only answer that came to mind was her faith in God, and she decided to pray.

She knelt by her bunk, put her hands together, and recited a prayer out loud.

Her neighbor, the Batarian slaver (whose name she couldn't be bothered to remember) from the wreck they investigated, spoke up. His voice vibrated through the metal walls.

"I don't get why you humans bother."

Ashley ignored him, and kept praying.

"Praying without a sacrifice is a waste of time."

Ashley kept on ignoring him.

"You need to kill a rat on an altar, or something. Or maybe a rabbit. A varren! Yeah, that will do the trick. Your god will surely hear your prayers then."

Ashley kept on praying.

"They prayed a lot - the slaves, I mean," continued the slaver, sadly. "They'd mutter just as you did. It didn't stop Bassac from beating them, or feeding them to the Vorcha. I keep wondering to this day how people could be so religious and not understand this simple fact: All gods demand sacrifice. They're kind of assholes like that."

That got Ash talking. "I don't expect some four-eyed freak of a slaving monster to understand anything about God," she said venomously. "How can you possibly believe in God, doing what you do?"

"How can you believe in your gods, being a killer of people? From what I hear, your gods frown on killing."

"God guided my path to becoming a soldier to PROTECT people from slavers like you, and send them to hell where they belong!"

"And the Gods..." the Batarian snorted, "guided my path to make me a slaver. Funny how that works out, no?"

"Don't you dare use God as an excuse for what you do. You haven't got the right. You took on the job because you're an evil, godless bastard, just like the rest of your kind. You made your choices. God didn't."

"... I never asked for this."

"Excuse me?"

"I was twelve when the priests came to my house with a brand in hand, ready to burn a mark on my forehead. They told my parents that I was born under the right stars, that it was my destiny to serve the glory of Kar'Shan by bringing it slaves. My parents wailed, and cried, but in the end they let me get marked, because they feared the gods, just as you do. And once you get marked, well, there's not much else you can do for a living, you know?"

"I think your gods are fucked."

"I think your God is too damned quiet."

"What makes your gods any different, then?"

"Have you ever been to Kar'Shan?" asked the slaver.

"Sure. Great place, planning on retiring there." answered Ashley, sarcastically. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Of course you haven't." the slaver chuckled. "Well, let me tell you something. It's **beautiful**. Go to any of its cities: waiting for you will be ancient tall spires of stone covered in millions of turquoise chips. There will be statues of gold dedicated to the heroes of old. There will be fountains made of crystal, spraying glowing water into the night. There will be walls of black stone that have stood the test of time for millenia, and Jade tombs that even the most secular of warlords will visit without a thought to violate its treasures. But it was all built on a foundation of two things: slavery, and reverence of the gods. While the nations of the Hegemonies moved past those, the Theocracies never did, and their people spread the fear of the gods everywhere. You cannot free the slaves, the priests say. The gods demand sacrifice, or they will let the glory of Kar'Shan wither and die."

He sniffed, and Ash could hear him scratching his nose. Or noses. Whatever.

"And everyone believes them. After all, the wonders of Kar'Shan keep standing, and we have yet to be swallowed up by the insanity of the Terminus systems. Might as well thank the constant flow of blood that comes from the altars for our good fortune as much as anything else."

"You're only confirming what I already know. Every Batarian is a damned evil slaver! Your excuses, your reasons don't mean anything to me. And you know what I really, REALLY hate about you people? You're all so willfully BACKWARDS. I mean really? Slaves?! The rest of the galaxy moved on from the dark ages and outgrew the very idea of slavery, but you Batarians don't even _bother!"_

"Hah! You're entirely right! What use does the modern Batarian have for slaves, when he can buy a servant mech? Ask any Batarian on Kar'Shan how he feels about slavery, and he'll be disgusted. But he's also afraid. Afraid of the gods, and afraid of their priests. That fear will insure that he says nothing as Marked Men like me go off into the darkness of space to hunt and bring fresh meat for ceremonies. He can't help it. None of us can. The Priests have had a hold on our minds ever since we were children. Marked Men like me are brought up to believe that the horrors we inflict on the denizens of the galaxy are necessary to preserve our civilization. Most of us, though? We burn out after ten years of the reality of what we do. Some, like Bassac, learn to love the job. Others take to the drink. Some chew on a gun."

"... I don't believe you. I can't believe any good, decent people would stand for that kind of evil! "

"I've seen the Templars have done some pretty nasty shit to some humans all in the name of this God of yours. What are they called? The Omar?"

"The Omar aren't human - they're not even sentient, not anymore."

"Details. They're still from Earth. They still use human meat to think. That doesn't stop the Templars from tearing their brains out of their shells and tossing them in a pyre while their loved ones watch. _That's_ pretty fucking evil, and yet all you goodie-goodie humans let them do it. Why?"

"...They probably deserved it. You can't trust an Omar - they gave up their humanity, their souls, just to be able to live longer!"

"Yeah. I suppose you're right." the Batarian chuckled. "That's all it takes, isn't it? An excuse to look away, and let it happen. _They probably deserved it. They're aliens. They're heathens. I'm just doing my job. _Sooner or later though, you run out of excuses... Maybe that's why the Shadow spared me. Because I was out of excuses, and there's no fooling myself anymore. I don't know." he sniffed again. "I just don't know."

"Hmph. Nice try. You think the fact that you feel bad about your career of rape and pillaging will stop our courts from giving you what you deserve? Let's be real here, no amount of piety and regret is going to sway them.

"... That's fine," said the Batarian calmly without a hint of fear.

"You can't be that okay with it." replied Ash, a bit annoyed.

"I crossed the Shadow's path three times. Twice on Elysium. The first time, he had just murdered a Krogan Warlord and his sons while they slept. He looked straight at me, and ran. Nobody that went after him came back alive - we found their bodies in the woods. The second time, I was part of a flanking maneuver that would have broken the Elysium militia's defense, with the Butcher - a yahg - at the head of it. Do you know what a yahg is?"

"No."

"Think Krogan, but even bigger, and even more teeth. And the Shadow - oh gods - he stood alone against us, and the Butcher had a score to settle with him, came at him all roars and fury. Next thing we knew, the Shadow took the Butcher's cleaver and buried it into the monster's face. Then he started cutting us down, fading in and out of the darkness. I survived that encounter by running like hell. The third time? The third time you know all about already. He spared me at the end. You don't survive a spirit of vengeance three times unless the gods have a plan for you. If that plan involves rotting in an Alliance prison, so be it... What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Once your tour is up. What happens to you?"

"Why do you care?"

"Do you think you can stop being what you are? Do you think you can live amongst the innocent, knowing that you're a trained killer of men? That you lived, while others died?"

Ashley thought the question was utterly ridiculous. Plenty of soldiers came back from the service perfectly capable of leading civilian lives.

...

_Little Ashley opened the door to the kitchen, and Grampa was there, and there was a bottle of the stuff mommy said she couldn't drink, and there was a gun, and Grampa was resting his head on the table. Ashley didn't understand why Grampa was crying. Was he hurt? Was he sad?_

_"Grampa, are you okay?" she asked._

_"I couldn't stop them." he sobbed. "I couldn't stop them..."_

_..._

"I... I can always go home. I have family waiting for me."

"...Good. Good for you."

Before she could ask anything about what he meant, before she could ask more about this 'Shadow', Ash's cell door opened, and Lieutenant Taylor stepped in inside. Ash, following protocol even as a prisoner, stood at attention and saluted.

"Chief." said Taylor. "I've had enough of your self-flagellation **bullshit**. Get the **fuck** out of your cell and get to work - that's an order."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jacob Taylor had just gotten Williams out of lockup when he decided to visit the CIC. He had read her file, and based on her scores and the crap assignments, it was pretty obvious she had been blacklisted for some reason, and the reason was her family name. Apparently, General Williams had grandchildren, and one of them decided to carry on a military tradition that spanned four generations, eager to restore the honor of her family through sheer determination.<p>

What an idiot.

Not that he didn't empathize with her plight, but it took a special kind of fool to enlist in an organization that had it in for your entire family, and of your own free will, too. In anyone else, he might have found it admirable, but it was obvious this Williams was ready to make the ultimate sacrifice just so that they'd stop badmouthing her dead grampa. He couldn't respect people like that - people that lived to make up for the sins of their fathers. Williams should have picked another career, and he suspected she would be much happier for it, too.

Come to think of it, Jacob himself never had much of a choice in enlisting. Sure, nobody twisted his arm into joining the Alliance military, but who the hell would hire a biotic for anything? Discrimination against those with the misfortune of being born with element zero in their nervous system were simply not welcome anywhere. Tolerated, sure, but tolerance had limits. Only the Alliance offered biotics a living. All you had to do was submit to painful surgery, and draw the ire of everyone on Earth for being a chip-head on top of a freak.

...

_"Ah, jeez." said Kim. "They really don't want us to be here."_

_Jacob looked out of the bus' window. On each side of the entrance of the Rio de Janeiro training facility for Biotics. There was a mob of protesters booing them and holding up signs calling for them to leave, some even called for their deaths. CHIP HEADS GO HOME was written on one. Another said ZERO BABIES SHOULD HAVE BEEN ABORTED. It was held by two very obese and very angry women. Jacob wished he could tell them that he didn't want to be here. He wanted to be an athlete, make a go for the olympics. He didn't want to be a soldier. He didn't even want to be a Biotic. But here they were, acting as if that was his fault somehow._

_"Goddamnit. You'd think we'd have outgrown that kind of behavior." said Jacob. "That we had left it back in the twentieth century where it belongs. But no. There it is." Jacob sighed. He seriously hoped that no one in the mob would start throwing shit at the bus._

_And then the Molotov exploded against his window._

...

He decided to put the whole Williams situation out his mind - thinking about it was only going to remind him of his own past. He thought instead he'd have a look at the Normandy's CIC before he would inevitably be reassigned by Command to a Biotic-only unit. He was on-board the Alliance's very own stealth frigate, the proof that the Alliance no longer needed to police human space with Terran hand-me-downs. Might as well take in the sights of the pretty lights while he still could.

The navigator, Pressly, eyed Jacob curiously, and then nodded at him.

"Lieutenant Taylor. Can I help you with anything?"

"Nah, I'm just taking in the sights. And don't worry, I know you sailors feel uncomfortable when the leathernecks start fiddling the dials. I won't touch anything, promise."

Pressly smiled. "Ah, well, I couldn't blame you if you did. The Normandy's is a marvel, isn't she? Say, I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done. It's not everyone that could go in a heavy risk situation like the one on Caleston and come back alive. Hope you showed the two aliens how it's done."

"Yeah, we came out alive... but the prize went to this Hein weirdo."

"Caleston was on the edge of becoming another Elysium, from what I heard. Seeing as the colony isn't on fire, I'd say that's a victory." He sighed. "It's a lot better than what the poor bastards on Elysium got."

"I take it you were there?"

"I was serving aboard the Agincourt, a heavy frigate, some hand-me-down from the OCU. Still a good ship, though. Tough as nails. It was in high orbit above Elysium when the Blitz hit. Just us against a hundred junky pirate cutters and corvettes, and dozens of transports."

"Bet they were no match for one Terran frigate though, right?"

Pressly was quiet for a while, then spoke. "Well, pound for pound, that's true, but... we were outnumbered. And we weren't the target at the time. It was a full-blown planetary assault, and the Agincourt didn't have the speed needed to intercept them all. Or the right weapons for the job."

Pressly took a deep breath, then continued:

"We tried frying them with our GARDIAN lasers, and we got plenty of them, sure. But the rest were too numerous and too spread out in the atmosphere. The blooming reduced the lasers' effectiveness, and we could barely hurt them. Our main gun was no use: Those small ships were too fast and gave those transports good cover. The cutters were right on top of every major settlement when they dropped those black gas bombs. Our comms officer couldn't keep track of all the distress signals we were getting from the surface. An hour later, the screaming started. Three days later, the pirate ships that had landed all over the cities opened up, and the pirates started kidnapping survivors. Before we could send any help, the AIA and Command declared Elysium a Black Rock to be quarantined. Nothing came in or out of Elysium alive."

"And meanwhile," added Jacob, "Haliat's fleet of frigates capitalizes on the terror to starts hitting high-value Alliance targets all over the Verge. Tied up the ninth fleet for three goddamned months."

"Yep, they didn't call it the Blitz for nothing. It's a good thing Calhoun Reynolds tied up the Pirates on the ground the way he did. Otherwise the Blitz would have been a complete success instead of the catastrophic failure it turned into."

"How did he manage that?"

"Guerrilla warfare, naturally. Kept hitting them where it hurts. Sabotaged many of their ships, freed any captured slaves."

"I find that hard to believe. No offense to Reynolds, but he couldn't have stopped a hundred ships from making off with those slaves."

"Well, that's true, but we started tapping into the pirates comm chatter. Something... interesting had happened."

"Oh?"

"Haliat had this Turian woman - Tavion, I think - lead the slave run on Elysium. She died two weeks after the Gas Bombs hit, apparently assassinated. Her girlfriend, an Asari called Aleena, wanted the head of the one responsible. Wouldn't leave without it. Couldn't be convinced otherwise. We'd pick up more and more chatter, and we could tell, those pirates? They were getting scared. Said some kind of shadow was stalking them in the night. Eventually it was Aleena's turn to die - and good riddance too. Of course, Haliat gets wind of his two top lieutenants dying and hits Elysium again full force intent on extracting revenge. We were ready this time, though. He didn't have orbital superiority for long before the 9th fleet got its shit back together and engaged his pirate fleet. It was a hard-fought battle, but we won."

"I still don't get why it took the AIA so long to lift the quarantine..."

"I _know_." Pressly resisted the urge to spit. "I swear to god it's as if they WANTED the genocide of Elysium to be complete. Thank god for Junko 'fuck that noise!' Shepard, eh?"

Jacob smiled. Shepard decided to take the _Hong Kong's_ entire Marine detail to Elysium's surface via Drop Pod, defying the Black Rock order. Other ships defied the AIA order and deployed their own drop pods, and before long Haliat's ground forces were surrounded on all sides. It was one for the history books, and the start of Shepard's legend.

"It's a damned shame they couldn't pin a medal on her for disobeying orders like that." said Pressly wistfully. "Damned AIA bastards. If I ever meet one again it'll be too goddamned soon."

Jacob wisely decided to change the subject. "Whatever happened to Reynolds?"

"Oh, he got a **chest** full of medals. Damn shame he quit the service though."

"What? That's the first I heard of it."

"I saw him at a bar some six, or seven months after the Blitz. He was really, really drunk, and started shouting obscenities, calling the Alliance some pretty nasty names."

Jacob nodded empathetically. "It was pretty rough on the ground, and with the fleet just sitting there, being no help at all, it's no wonder he quit."

"I dunno... He was also rambling something about how the Alliance were a bunch of ungrateful bastards and that they stabbed the true heroes of Elysium in the back. I still don't know what he meant by that. Oh well, the survivors elected him Sheriff, so he's still got that going on for him, at least."

Jacob realized he had been just standing there. "I should go and let you get back to work, Mr. Pressly. Didn't mean to bother you."

"Oh, it's no bother. I'm always keen to share war stories."

"Maybe one of these days I'll tell you one."

"Looking forward to it."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Normandy's CIC, Anderson climbed onto the podium that allowed him to view the entirety of the Navigation holographic pit. He double-checked the digital roll-call: everyone that was supposed to be on-board was on-board. He set the controls for the intercom to cover the entirety of the ship (save for the brig, naturally), and addressed the crew.<p>

"Everyone, this is the captain speaking. We will soon be departing Caleston on our way to refueling station S9 to pick up a team of AIA agents on their way to a sensitive mission. I know many of you have been dreading this day, but since the Normandy is the first stealth vessel of its class in peacetime, supporting AIA spooks was inevitable. And having worked with the AIA before, I know how pushy they can be. Just remember one thing: If they want anything done aboard this ship, they have to go through me first. Politely remind them that they're _not_ part of the chain of command. That is all."

He switched the comm over to the helm. "Joker. Lay in a course for S9 and take-off immediately."

_"Aye-aye, sir."_ replied the helmsman._ "ETA: Seven hours."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Sovereign was hungry no longer.<p>

That was good, Saren thought. The construct was a difficult thing to control even when its thirst for Anima was sated. Starved, it became a ravenous beast that obeyed only its desires. It cared nothing about numbers or defenses, and that made it vulnerable. No, Sovereign wasn't powerful enough yet to start a rampage. But devouring the half-million or so humans on Caleston would provide the Sovereign's brain the necessary boost to alter it's form into something... beautiful. Invincible. Unstoppable. Yes.

Saren stood on a ring-shaped platform over a sphere at the bottom of an eighty-meter tall pit. At the center of that pit, along its height, was a floating screw-shaped pillar that rotated slowly, its three separate parts emitting a field that funneled thousands and thousands of red wisps of light - Anima that Sovereign saved for the sake of his creator, his true creator, not the fools that believed Sovereign was little more than a extremely complex processor to be plugged into their war machine. The red light contrasted with the dark blue gloom, highlighting every object in the chamber in bright crimson.

Saren mediated on the slow work of the machine, and occasionally, he could hear the faint screaming of the hundreds of thousands of humans that perished in the attack. The sound lifted his spirits up a great deal, which was good, because Wreav was coming up behind him, bearing bad news.

"The old bitch is dead," said the huge Krogan. Thanks to his physiopharmaceutical augmentations, Wreav stood at nearly three meters tall, and his dense muscle mass made him weigh in at a ton. He was a giant amongst Krogan now, and without his brother to oppose him, he was now Warlord of all Tuchanka. Occasionally he had to make a trip to his home planet to remind the clans who was boss (and put the females back in their place, as he liked to say). But now he was back on the Sovereign, and in his place it meant he answered to Saren.

"I know." said the renegade Spectre, impassively. "I am more concerned about the Masque. Is it intact? Can we still recover it?"

"Judging from the footage from the Geth Stalker transmitted back to us, that's a big no. The Alliance is all over the place, anyways."

"Hmph. What a shame." Benezia had been useful in relieving stress. As for keeping her Asari Commandos under control, steps had already been taken. It was unfortunate that Benezia's daughter, along with the Prothean artifact, was denied to him, but no matter. Horizon had offered him more than just food for Sovereign. The other fragment of the Shibboleth - an insane human girl named Talitha - had been secured and put into stasis along with Manuel. In that pod she would sleep, until he would be ready to put the key back together. One step closer to the return of Nazara.

"The robots left a copy of the footage in your ah, _throne room. _Or whatever it is._"_

_"_Good. I shall review it later." Saren was indeed curious as to how exactly Benezia had been brought low. Even without the Masque her Biotics were something to be feared.

"Hey, what the hell is this crap?" asked the Krogan, pointing at the flow of red energy. A wisp escaped the machinery, and Wreav tried to catch it in his hand. He shivered, no doubt feeling a rush of memories coursing through his mind in the blink of an eye. He would retain nothing of the experience, of course.

"That," answered Saren. "Is Anima. It is the energy that drives all sentient life."

"Energy? Is this thing a battery, or a reactor?"

"Of a sort. Not electrical, of course. The Sovereign's electronics and machines use power from the anti-matter reactors elsewhere on the ship. But its mind requires a different form of energy."

Judging from Wreav's expression, he still didn't quite understand. Saren continued. "Tell me, Wreav, would you agree that all that lives, eats?"

"Yeah. It's eat or be eaten on Tuchanka. Or anywhere else, if you think about it."

"Do you believe in the existence of the soul?"

"The Shamans back home drilled that into my head, so yeah."

"Have you ever wondered what souls eat?"

"Err... can't say that I have."

"The answer to that is simple. Time."

"Souls eat... time?"

"Time, events, stories... _experience._ All these gather and swell around a soul like cytoplasm around a nucleus. Once the soul is... discarded, all that is left behind is Anima. This machine gathers it."

"What the hell for?"

"The Sovereign's brain doesn't operate on the same principle as a computer, or even our own brains. It is... a spiritual emulation of a computer. An energy construct. Electricity will not allow it to function. Like all living things, it needs to eat to live, to function."

"Yeah... I think I get it now. " said Wreav... but it was obvious he was struggling to understand. Saren now realized how badly he would need a replacement for Benezia: discussing the higher mysteries of the Protheans with a Krogan would be a trying experience, he could tell.

"So," continued Wreav. "Sovereign is saving a snack for later, is that what this sphere is for?"

"Not quite. This... is for my own use."

"What use do you have for this crap?"

"It is an offering. All gods demand sacrifice." said Saren mysteriously. "And if I want to destroy mankind - completely and utterly erase them from the fabric of the universe - then I will need the favor of a God. And I plan on making a very good offering to get it. Now, we have some other business to talk about."

"Oh?"

"I have gleaned the location of another piece of the Shibboleth. It is on Noveria."

"Not a fan of the cold, Saren."

Saren glared at Wreav, and the Krogan immediately remembered who was in charge, here.

"You will go there and retrieve the human. Her file has already been sent to your Omni-Tool. Take as many Geth platforms and Krogan clones as you need."

"For a milk run?"

Saren glared at him harder. "I lost Benezia to what was supposed to be a milk run. This is far more important and I have no idea what you might encounter besides corporate security... Something is moving against me, I can feel it."

"Hey, whatever you say."

Saren dismissed Wreav, and left the Anima Chamber an hour later. It was time to speak to his... 'sponsors'.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In Saren's communication room, three obelisk-shaped floating holograms, each with a number, spoke to him as if they were his masters. That's because they thought they had him under control. Oh, they were correct, but not quite to the extend that they thought. The others were not present, apparently they were busy with some other plots.<p>

_"Explain yourself." _asked the warped voice of hologram 01.

"I merely played my part in the scenario." answered Saren coolly. "I am to set the outer Terran colonies on fire, am I not? I have done just that: I've just served up another bloodbath to stir earth up in a frenzy."

_"We are talking about CALESTON!" _accused 03._ "Benezia, with the help of your Geth, completely ruined our operations on the planet! Thanks to her the ruins are now partially destroyed and under control of Alliance elements not completely under our influence!"_

"A Prothean relic, you say? I had no idea."

_"Don't play dumb!"_

"Perhaps you should make me privy to your comings and goings, then, so that this sort of thing doesn't happen again."

_"You know we cannot do that."_ said 02. _"We all have our parts to play. You have yours."_

_"And none of this would have happened in the first place if you hadn't strayed!" _added 03_. "Let US handle the Prothean relics! You focus on your campaign of terror! Freedom's Progress and Ferris Fields have yet to be erased from the map! Their brazen independence is giving the other colonies ideas! The longer they exist, the harder it will be for our plans to reach fruition!"_

_"Do not stray from the scenario again, Saren," _warned 02._ "What we give..."_

Pain shot up Saren's artificial arm, and it stopped moving entirely. His artificial heart stopped along with it, for just a moment, an then started beating again.

_"We can take away... Whenever we wish."_

"Speaking of roles..." said Saren, doing his best to seem unfazed - curse that killswitch! He knew he would have to get rid of it before putting his own plans into motion. "...I'm fulfilling mine just fine, but I do wonder when my so-called arch nemesis is due to arrive? I heard the leading woman has had an unfortunate... accident."

_"Do not be concerned. Shepard was never our first choice."_ said 01. _"Our primary unit is ready. He will soon be granted Spectre status and will be mobilized against you."_

"And what of the other Spectre candidates from Earth's nation-states? Are they under your control as well?"

_"No, but the good Doctor will be dealing with them shortly."_ said 01. _"Their... replacements will aid the Primary unit in 'stopping' you."_

"Hmph. I'll try to make a good show out of it."

_"Not too good a show, and not too quickly." _said 02. _"Remember, we need to build up his legend before we martyr him."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>With little else to say, The conference was done with quickly, and Saren retreated back into the Shrine. He reviewed the Caleston footage sent to him by the Geth. Apparently a team of mercs, working in parallel with an Alliance team led by Jondum Bau, had carved two paths of slaughter to where Benezia had been preparing to make a grab for power. No doubt to take control of Sovereign and the Geth armada, Saren suspected.<p>

Things got very interesting when Benezia fused with a Wanzer and became a powerful war machine. Were it not for the unyielding materials used by the Protheans, the mercenaries and the alliance marines would have been without cover and perished under blasts of dark matter and plasma. Saren scratched his chin in interest. It seemed the Prothean artifact Saren gave to Benezia had some features not known to him at the time. Perhaps he should look into grafting some Prothean technology into himself, if only to break free.

Then the footage showed the Prothean Relic taking direct control of one of the mercenaries, the one in the black armor, and proceeded to slice Benezia into ribbons after pummeling her into submission with repeated Biotic Charge strikes.

"Stop," Saren vocally commanded his computer. Magnify, quadrant B."

The screen zoomed in on the figure, and Saren was fascinated. It was little wonder the Templars wanted exclusive control over Prothean archeological operations. Saren knew that if he wanted his own plans to succeed, then he'd need to redouble his efforts in acquiring the ancient technology before those human fanatics did. Otherwise, they could destroy the Sovereign and the Geth armada all too easily.

"Resume playback."

The rest of the footage was quite boring. The Geth Stalker had become far more careful, and with little else to do decided to try and escape topside to transmit it's data. Once it saw daylight, the video became scrambled. It had apparently been hit by an overload attack. Thankfully, it still managed to transmit its memory out into the Geth collective.

Wait.

"Stop. Rewind at timescale ninety-nine point seven. Magnify Center."

Through the static he could make out the sharp features of a pale human clad in a black leather longcoat, with his black hair slicked back, graying at the temples. He had an amused grin on his face, lit up by the orange light of an Omni-Tool.

It was him.

"Hein."

The memories of Shanxi and the death of Desolas hit Saren like a freight train. In his mind, he was back in that hellhole, watching helplessly as a dark gray lightweight Wanzer shot Desolas' dropship out of the sky with a well aimed burst of a medium auto-cannon right to the engines. He watched helplessly as the Wanzer tore Desolas out of the cockpit, and offered him to a mob of bloodthirsty humans. The Wanzer even went through the trouble of dropping an explosive pack into the dropship's guts, no doubt to murder the wounded inside.

Saren had learned who the pilot was. Saren had memorized his face.

Hein.

"Hein." muttered Saren as he rose from his chair, seething with rage. Then, the anger boiled over and he roared in vengeful fury.

**"HEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIINNNN!"**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hein sneezed.<p>

"Caught a cold, sir?" Grey asked Hein, a bit concerned.

"Maybe someone's talking about him." said Aki.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: POLITICS: TREATIES: THE ARES ACCORDS<strong>

_The Ares Accords are treaties signed by nearly all of the major powers on Earth, which obligates them to donate a set percentage of their land and space military powers to the Systems Alliance. Signed in 2150 during a time of rapid extrasolar colonization, the first Ares Accord was meant to provide the Systems Alliance with the necessary military might to maintain peace and order in the new and rapidly growing human frontier, and prepare for a possible alien attack. At the time, the four major powers on Earth (the UNAS, the EU, the Coalition and the OCU) were obligated to donate three percent of their militaries to the peacekeeping force._

_After the retaking of Shanxi, the nations of earth realized that the Alliance would be the first line of defense in the face of a full-scale alien invasion, and so the Second Ares Accord was signed by not only the four major powers, but Brazil and India as well (though they would only provide manpower). After much negotiations, the second treaty obligates a donation of twelve percent of the total military power of each nation. A third Accord is to be signed within the next three years._

_The Ares Accords have been the foundation of the Systems Alliance for the past three decades. Though the Alliance has recently managed to establish a decent military production infrastructure, it is still very dependent on Sol's industries to provide it with necessary manpower and hardware to properly police the vast territory of space occupied by various nations of Earth. Should any single nation suddenly withdraw from the agreement, the Alliance could potentially lose a quarter of its manpower and fleet due to resignation, or even mutiny. _

_Political analysts predict that the next Ares Accord will only obligate the nations of Earth to donate another 2 percent of their military forces. This is due to the growing tensions between the OCU and the UNAS, and the Coalition with everyone else. None of the supranational unions are willing to commit their fleets to extra-solar activities in case the cold war that has been brewing between them becomes a full-scale conflict._

* * *

><p><strong>CODEX ENTRY: CORPORATIONS: EARTH: EUROPA GENOMICS<strong>

_A member of the WTO (or World Trade Organization), Europa Genomics is the main provider of Gene Therapy treatments for the Alliance military. Founded in Paris in 2098 to take advantage of a vogue of __therianthropy_ _by providing affordable__ cosmetic gene mods, the corporation has since then diversified into other avenues of biotech, from growing replacement organs and limbs to making _in utero_ genetic corrections._

_Four years ago, Europa Genomics had briefly come under the galactic spotlight by buying out the Noveria Development Corporation, after the former came under heavy litigation for attempting to steal EG intellectual property. Since then, Johnathan Scholar (the current CEO of Europa Genomics) has spearheaded efforts by the WTO to develop Noveria. This culminated with the completion of the Dosadi Arcology, providing housing, food and entertainment for more than half a million people employed by corporations such as Tokugawa Industries, Panzerwerx, Standard Security Corporation, and many more._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Oh hi there Saren. I kinda forgot about you for like... 12 chapters? Yeesh.<strong>_

_**For those of you who were somewhat put off by the Caleston's arc, well, the Noveria arc should become a welcome return to form. We'll be meeting Johann Ramsus soon, too.**_

_**Special thanks to Setokaiva for the spellcheck.  
><strong>_


	29. Chapter 26: Illium part 1

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

_Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts_

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution:**_

_**Chapter 26: Illium part 1  
><strong>_

**or**

_**Lots and lots and lots of world building because Caleston didn't quite have enough of it.**_

_**or**_

_**The one in which I get all of those references out of my system before resuming the plot.**_

_**or  
><strong>_

_**Citadel DLC ON ILLIUM! PART 1!**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Diable Avionics Copperhead could seat 11 people comfortably, pilot included. A few more people could fit in by standing in the middle of the passenger cabin, as long as they held on to the bars attached to the ceiling. The inertial compensators meant that the ride would be fairly turbulence-free, provided the pilot didn't do any acrobatics.<p>

The ride down to Illium had been relatively quiet, with the Deep Eyes occasionally taking worried glances at Jensen, uncomfortably. Adam figured it had to do with the fact that he had pulled superpowers out of nowhere to destroy Benezia. They were no doubt worried what he could do to them should he ever lose control. He caught Manah looking at him, then looking away embarrassed whenever he noticed her. She was fretting over the devices that Hein had her put on her wrists, ankles, and hips. Tali, who was sitting opposite Manah with the other Quarians (including Fyodor) on a five-seat row, was glaring at Manah for some reason. Adam and Garrus stood across from Hein in the middle of the passenger cabin. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over everyone.

And then, Hein sneezed all of a sudden, almost comically, and Grey fretted over him. That broke the ice a bit.

"Are we sure it's just a cold, Aki?" asked Grey. "Could be some kind of alien disease."

"I gave everyone an immunization package," replied Aki. "Don't worry. You won't catch space cooties."

"If you're still worried," said Zev. "Perhaps you should invest in a full enviro-suit?"

"I've got a M.I.P.S. It works just as well. Wish I had it with me right now - I don't like to sortie without it." Adam could tell Grey was feeling a bit nervous: He kept bouncing his knee, and occasionally wrung his hands together.

"This is not a mission," said Aki, empathetically. "You're just coming down planet-side to relax."

"Planet of _blue alien space_ babes, sir." added Jane. "According to the old vids, we're living the dream! Well, most of us are, anyway." She laughed, and gave Ryan a friendly but meaningful look. He chuckled at that.

"I don't know," Ryan said with a smile. "I hear Asari aren't technically women. 'Doesn't count'." He made finger quotes for emphasis.

"Bullshit! Tits, hips, and no dicks. You bang one and enjoy yourself, you're officially bi."

"Well, I don't think Asari sex involves banging. Mind sex isn't quite the same as normal sex, so..."

"Mind-what now?"

"Asari have sex with their minds. Or their nerves, or something. I'm not even sure they have vaginas at all."

"Well, let's ask an actual Asari - Hey T'soni!"

Manah looked up from her fiddling. "Hm?"

"How do you have sex? With your brain or your vagina?"

T'soni's pale skin became flush with the color of her blood. "I-I-I-I'm not certain- I mean, I _am_ certain, by which I mean I know of... I mean, I just, um..."

Thankfully, Dr. Ross came to her rescue. "Asari do indeed mate by 'melding' with their partner's nervous systems. Asari do have a birth canal, Ryan. Whether or not an Asari likes something phallic in there is a matter of personal preference."

Jane rose an eyebrow in confusion. "So wait, how do they make babies, then?"

"That's a... complicated answer. Basically, mating makes them clone themselves."

Jane shrugged. "If you say so."

Tali wasn't paying attention to their conversation, and was worried about the Captain that was not a ship captain. Grey was doing his best not to fidget.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"It's... it's too soon for shore leave. We should have been out in space for a lot longer before even considering it."

"I know!" commented Hein. "I'm just spoiling you kids rotten, aren't I?"

Garrus also noted Grey's eyes darting around. "Okay, hope you guys don't mind me asking, but... what's wrong with your captain?"

"It's the conditioning, isn't it?" asked Aki, worried. Grey simply nodded, and wiped the sweat off his brow.

"It's telling me everything about this mission is going to go south," said Grey, wiping the sweat from his brow. "We haven't assigned combat roles, besides our sidearms we're not in full gear, we don't even have a briefing... it's telling me to abort."

"It's _not_ a mission, Edward..." soothed Aki. "_Relax._"

"Could uh, someone fill the aliens in?" asked Zev. "Because we're confused."

"Likewise," agreed Garrus.

Hein was only too happy to answer. "Captain Grey here submitted to a USMC psycho-conditioning program to make him a better soldier. Me keeping things mildly military, well... it's messing with his professional 'subroutines'."

Grey just glared at Hein. Apparently, he wasn't too happy about being outed.

"Why would you let them do that to you?" asked Tali.

"...Because the Corps is where I belong." Grey answered simply. Aki looked at him sadly.

_There's a story there_, thought Jensen.

"He'll calm himself once we get some alcohol in him," Ryan reassured them. "Don't you folks worry."

There was a slight lurch, and then from the cockpit Neil's voice echoed through the passenger cabin via the intercom. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Highwind Airlines. We have just cleared Illium's atmosphere and we are on approach to Nos Astra. Local time is- er, late in the evening? Local Temperature is 26 degrees Celsius, with slightly cloudy skies. We will be taking the scenic route so that you can appreciate the magnificent view of the city on your left, just as the sun is setting over it. Of course, since the Copperhead's passenger cabin doesn't have any windows, I guess you'll just have to settle for a hologram."

Holographic projectors activated over each seat, and flat screens appeared in front of every seat. Jensen thought he'd have a look for himself rather than stare at something through a video screen.

Jensen stepped into the one-seat cockpit. Having been designed over a century ago, it was mostly made of analog flight instruments, mounted on a dash personalized with stickers. There wasn't a single haptic unit in its fly-by-wire setup; the yoke itself was made of metal and molded plastic, not mass effect fields on holograms. Very old-fashioned, but Jensen had to admit, he kinda liked it that way.

Neil turned around when he sensed Jensen's presence behind him. "Hey there! Uh, what are you doing here?"

"Had to see what the fuss was about with my own eyes." Jensen leaned in and peered out of the transparent, reinforced crystal canopy. The kilometer-high spires of Nos Astra were poking into the dim gray blue sky out of white, wavy Stratocumulus clouds.

Clouds... It occurred to Jensen right then that he hadn't seen clouds from above in years...

Highlighting them was the setting sun, its orange rays giving them the color of french vanilla ice cream. Eventually Neil took the Copperhead down below the clouds, and then Jensen saw the cityscape of Illium's capital, its millions of lights trying to capture the majesty of a starry night sky, and would only succeed if only the sun would stop overmatching them and finally set into the blazing horizon to rest.

Neil circled around Nos Astra for six minutes, letting everyone get an eyeful.

"Alright, everyone, that's enough for the scenic route: we'll be going direct and full speed ahead, and we'll be landing on our pad in just a few minutes."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Illium, folks." said Garrus as he disembarked ahead of everyone. "I know it looks all pretty and peaceful, but walk down the wrong back alley or sign the wrong contract and you may find yourself in a new world of trouble."<p>

"Sounds like my kind of place." said Jane.

Everyone on the Copperhead (save Neil, who would have to pick up Drebin and his stock later) disembarked onto the landing pad Hein had rented at Nos Astra's Itea Docks, a busy little starport for small spacecraft smack in the middle of Nos Astra's busiest commercial district. Traffic in the air and on the road was dense and ever in motion, to say nothing of the pedestrians in a rush to buy something.

Waiting for the passengers was a slightly tanned, tall blonde woman dressed in little else than a blue bikini top patterned with white flowers, a short jean skirt that might as well have been a belt, a pair of glasses, high-heeled sandals, a jade ankle bracelet, and a purse. Her hair was tied into two wavy bunches - waterfalls of golden hair that caressed the slopes of her breasts - secured by clips twelve inches from her scalp. Beside her were crates and luggage. It was Brea, and apparently she had done some shopping.

Adam found himself staring and trying hard to keep his jaw from falling on the floor. Oingo Boingo's _Weird Science_ resonated in his left ear. Annoyed, he turned around to see Hein holding his Omni-Tool up to his ear.

"Stop that!" hissed Jensen as he slapped the tool away.

Hein simply grinned. "What? It seemed appropriate!"

"Goddess!..." gasped Manah. "I've seen statues of warrior queens sculpted by masters that aren't as beautiful..."

"Damn. She's what? five percent body fat away from being a fitness model?" agreed Jane. "Whoever built her has got some interesting tastes."

"And is probably really lonely," quipped Garrus.

Brea picked up a cylindrical metallic container by its handle and approached the group, her walk slow and graceful. "You're late." she said sternly.

"Well, I wasn't aware we had a date," said Jensen. "Err, nice outfit?"

"I wasn't talking to _you._"

"I _apologize, _my dear..." cooed Hein, suddenly playing the part of the henpecked husband. "But we were delayed in the air - you know how traffic control can be! Wouldn't let us land at all until _just now._"

"What's with all the crap, robot?" said Jane, crossing her arms.

Brea's eye twitched in annoyance. Evidently she took offense at being called a robot. "If I am doomed to spend the rest of my career on an unwanted flying deathtrap, I will do so in the lap of luxury."

"Hey! Don't insult my ship!" said Tali and Aki in unison.

"Doesn't your boss want you back on the job?" asked Jensen, before the three of them launched into a verbal cat-fight.

Aya gritted her teeth. _"He does."_

"Our mutual friend," said Hein as he walked besides Brea and put his arm over her shoulders, "has assigned Ms. Brea to act as his liaison aboard the Durendal. She will pose as my secretary until he sees fit to take her away from us. Say hi to your new co-workers, Brea."

"_Hi_," she said quickly. "Now, if you please, my affairs?"

"Of course, of course!" Hein clapped his hands. "If you would kindly move Ms. Brea's baggage into the dropship?"

With the exception of Manah, Fyodor, Jensen and Grey, protests of various levels of vehemence surged out of the group. Jane and Tali were the most vocal, not exactly pleased being obligated to carry a synthetic's mountain of useless crap. Jensen intervened quickly, saying that he would do the lifting while everyone else just went on their shore leave. A compromise reached, Hein promptly uploaded a map to everyone's Omni-Tool and gave specific instructions to have _fun, _and dismissed the lot of them save for Manah.

Garrus stayed behind to help his partner, while Grey had no problem obeying Hein's order. Jensen handled the larger, heavier crates, and before long the Copperhead was loaded with boxes of clothes, jewelry, various accessories, and fine collapsed furniture. While everyone worked, Neil was toying around with the Copperhead's gun cam, and kept it zoomed and zeroed in on Aya's chest as she watched the men work.

She noticed that, and would make sure to make the pilot pay for it later.

The work done, Aya approached Jensen on her way to board the craft. She handed him the metal cylinder.

"This is for you. A present."

Jensen took the item and inspected it. On it was a bio-hazard symbol, and stuck on the lid was some paperwork that declared the biological contents of the container as legal and non-virulent, which made him immediately suspicious. He tried to peek inside using his Smart-Vision, but the thing was shielded against scans.

"What's inside?"

"It's my heart, Jensen, _obviously._"

"...Really?"

Aya rolled her eyes. "No."

"...Well? What is it then?"

She pulled Jensen to her, and whispered in his ear. "We are even. You will not ask anything of me, not ever. Is that clear?"

"What are you talk-" before Jensen could finish asking, Aya had already pushed him away gently and briskly made her way into the Copperhead. Garrus walked up beside his partner, and Grey, curious as to what was going on, joined them.

"Well, that was a bit odd," said the soldier.

"No kidding," agreed Jensen.

"You'd think she'd be grateful to you for saving her life." said Garrus. "Instead she acts all bitchy and gives you - um...what is in this thing, anyways?"

"Gotta admit," said Grey, "I'm curious myself. Are you going to open it?"

"I'm not liking the bio-hazard sign." replied Jensen.

"It's only level 1 - _low risk of infection, handle with care._" recited Garrus. "As long as you don't touch the contents, you'll be fine. Just uh, wash your hands after you're done, okay?"

"I think I'll just- hey!"

Hein snatched the container away, then shook it, hoping the sound it made would be a clue to what was inside. "Ooh! I do love presents! What's inside, I wonder? Oh well! Only one way to find out!"

Before anyone could protest, Hein set the cylinder on the ground and opened it, letting the mist of cold, condensed moisture escape. He peered inside, and then became uncharacteristically quiet. "Hm. Friend of yours?" he asked.

Jensen, Garrus and Grey gathered around the cylinder, and inside was a bald, frozen human head.

"Oh. Oh crap." said Garrus. "That can't be good."

"Who is that?!" asked Grey, incredulous. "Is this a message from Brea, of some kind?"

Jensen recognized the head immediately. He had an old score to settle with its owner.

_..._

_"There is a two-bit pimp out there..." said Jensen, his voice cold. "...who is sunbathing on the beaches of Illium, sipping some fruity drink, smug in the knowledge that no one can put him behind bars."_

Jensen slammed Harkin's head against the car door.

_"There were twelve dead bodies in that protein vat. TWELVE. Twelve girls with holes in their bodies because Big Tim didn't want them to talk. Twelve girls that will NEVER come home because some dirty cop decided that the ONE thing that could have put Big Tim away for good before he could touch them would be better off in his own pocket!"_

_"P-Please...please don't kill me!" begged Harkin, weakly._

_"A thousand platinum on the black market. Was it worth it, Harkin?!"_

_"I can give you Big Tim! He couldn't stay out of the business! Couldn't help himself! He's running drugs all the way from Omega! Just, just let me go!"_

_..._

"It's... Big Tim." muttered Jensen.

"The pimp Harkin let get away with murder?" asked Garrus.

"Yeah... there's no mistaking it."

And then the Copperhead lifted off.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hein had offered to lug the human head around with him (for science, of course) while Jensen and Garrus joined Tali and the Deep Eyes at the Eternity Bar. Spooky and Lunchbox were waiting for them there, having promised to buy the marines' first round of drinks to do some proper introductions. Hein also shared with Jensen the planned itinerary of the rest of the crew: Lelia would take Fyodor to a local museum, Zev would be shopping, Veetor would be at an arcade, and Hein and Manah would be at a notary's office to take care of some paperwork. Once they were done, they would join everyone at the Eternity bar.<p>

"But before we do that," said Hein, "Could you touch Manah for me?"

"...Excuse me?"

"Casual tap of the shoulder. Indulge me, please."

Jensen hesitantly did so, and just as he was about to touch Manah's shoulder, a glowing plate of Tech Armor appeared an inch over her body to stop him. It vanished when Jensen withdrew his hand. Manah, curious, wondered what would happen if she touched someone, and reached out to grab Adam's arm. A Tech Glove appeared over her hand, and disappeared.

"Fantastic!" exclaimed Hein. "It works! This should prevent T'soni from getting into an incident. Don't you worry about us, you go and have fun."

A quick taxi ride later had brought Jensen, Garrus and Grey just outside of the Eternity, a club and bar set up on the upper levels of Nos Astra. The three of them didn't enter immediately: For Jensen and Grey, it was their first time visiting the planet, and they wanted to take in the view.

Jensen had to admit, after the weirdness (and excitement) of the Promethean Undercity of Caleston, he felt right at home in the Asari metropolis. It was lot like Dubai back on Earth, only Nos Astra's buildings were about five times taller and a bit more elegant in form. Then, Jensen felt as if he had seen something like this before, but that wasn't right either. More precisely, he felt as though he had seen greater and grander things than Nos Astra, or even the Undercity. But what those great works of architecture were, he could not recall no matter how hard he tried.

_Probably the Promethean VI messing with my head again, _thought Jensen. _Goddamn it, I can't even enjoy a view without the damned thing messing with my mind._

The fact that he had mentally interfaced with two pieces of Promethean technology disquieted Jensen. They had already subtly altered his mind, his knowledge... The Promethean VI on Caleston had 'retreated' back into its data storage device when it realized that Jensen's brain didn't have the capacity to keep it for long, but it had left its mark on his psyche. In what ways, he wasn't sure.

As for the data in Shepard's Soulcatcher, Jensen could still feel it crawling in the back of his head.

_Maybe I should accept Hein's deal, if only to rid myself of the thing. Maybe I should talk to Dr. Ross about having her erase the data through that Dreamcatcher. Then again, do I really want her and especially Hein to have access to my mind for extended periods of time? Who can I trust with my mind?_

"So, Grey," said Garrus, pulling Jensen away from his thoughts. "Armax Arsenal's got a Battle Simulator Arena nearby." He pointed at a holographic billboard, advertising a special deal for new participants. "Want to go a few rounds after we're done at the Eternity? Might quiet down that conditioning."

Grey just glared at him. "Thanks, but I'm done fidgeting; hauling crates put my mind at ease. And why in god's name would I want to enter simulated combat? I get enough of the real deal already."

"I know it keeps my skills sharp, and VR just doesn't feel right to me."

"Battle Sims like Armax's aren't all that realistic, either: That Hit Point system they use doesn't take into account organ placement, blood loss, armor penetration..."

"That's only on the three lower difficulty levels. Hardcore and Insane have a more detailed hit point system. Personally, I prefer to go with Realistic. One shot, one kill. But hey, that's not for everyone, you're right. It's not like you could beat my high-score, anyway. I mean, it IS pretty high."

"If you think that you can bait me like that... Then you're absolutely right. You're on, Vakarian."

"Jensen, how about joining us?" asked Garrus, hopefully.

"I'll think about it."

The three of them walked to the club's entrance together, where a scene between a bouncer and three Krogan was rapidly developing. The bouncer was of a species neither Jensen nor Garrus recognized: He looked human, but stood at a staggering two and a half meters tall, standing two heads taller than the biggest of the Krogan, and outclassing him in terms of mass by a factor of three. His skin was pale green, and he had a full head of fine black hair tied back in a knot and a short but thick beard. His suit was surprisingly elegant, with pinstriped black pants, black shirt, long leather boots, and a golden brown waistcoat covered in strips of leather woven in a celtic pattern.

Garrus had to admit, he was a little intimidated by the giant. "Oookay, I haven't seen that particular species before."

"Neither have I." added Jensen. It wasn't until he had said the words that he realized that they weren't true.

"That's a Roegadyn," said Grey. "They're one of the races from the Sirius Cluster - you know, past Relay 314? Come to think of it, you hardly see one out of the cluster. I guess they decided to explore."

"Regardless, I think we should help the guy. Large as he is, those three Krogan are armed."

Grey chuckled. "Yeah, I think the situation's under control."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The leader of the three Krogan glared at the bouncer defiantly, his posture screaming a challenge. "Let me in, I want to see Yvaine. She owes me a lap dance."<p>

"No." rumbled the bouncer, calmly. "You are not welcome here anymore, Tark."

"You think you can stop me from going in?" said the Krogan, as he shoved the bouncer with his fist.

"It was easy enough to get you out."

"Ah, but I got my Krantt with me this time."

"You and your 'Krantt' will leave. You're scaring away the customers."

"I'll do a lot more than that if you don't step out of the way." The Krogan shoved the bouncer again.

"Leave. Now."

"You think you can order me around, Green skin? Nobody orders me around. I was killing and eating bigger things than you since before you were BORN." The Krogan withdrew his shotgun. " And I- eep!"

Before anyone could react, the Roegadyn casually grabbed Tark by the ankle and lifted him up and clubbed his two friends over the head with him, making the Krogan lose grip on his weapon. They were out cold, but Tark was made of sterner stuff. The giant lifted Tark up, as if inspecting a dirty sock, and when Tark reached for his knife he smashed him against the ground three times, causing the thick concrete floor to crack under the strain. Certain that Tark was out for the count, he casually tossed him aside.

When the Krogan whimpered, the bouncer let a slight, yet rumbling chuckle. "Puny Krogan..."

Two humans and a turian approached - warily - but intent on entering the bar. Hopefully, they wouldn't be trouble.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Just when I think things are finally settling down, <em>thought Jensen_, the universe throws me another curve ball._

Once, long ago, when Jensen was in a bad mood, he had entered a club called the Hive by punching out the bouncer and taking his keypass. After seeing this 'Roegadyn' deal with three Krogan as if it was little more than a boring chore, Jensen imagined what would have happened if he had tried if Tong had hired a giant like that as his bouncer. He tried not to shudder at the mental picture.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" the huge bouncer was incredibly calm and being quite polite considering what had just happened.

"Yeah, we're with Fawkes Moody?" said Grey.

"Ah, yes. I was told to expect more humans and a Turian. Your names?

The trio offered there names, and the Bouncer smiled.

"Your names are known. You may come in - happy hour will begin shortly and after that, the dance floor will be open." the Bouncer stepped aside, and took a bow. "Welcome to the Eternity Club, gentlemen. Enjoy yourselves.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So Grey... I hear you US marines have a plan to kill everyone you meet?" asked Garrus as he and Jensen made their way further into the bar. "What's the Corps' SOP when dealing with Roegadyn?"<p>

"Run. Get a Wanzer," answered Grey, deadpan. When Garrus laughed, he continued: "I'm not even joking. Those Ogres can carry as much firepower as an entire squad of Marines and put on as much armor as a light tank. They may not be quite as resilient as the Krogan but god almighty are they faster and stronger..."

"Speaking from experience?" asked Jensen.

"Yeah. The Alliance heavy frigates Waterloo and Iwo Jima lost many men and vehicles trying to take down one band of a dozen or so Roegadyn pirates holed up in Beta Canis II B, and I was part of the reinforcements. I'll just say that we're ALL lucky the Ogres don't have nearly enough ships to mount a planetary invasion. I'm surprised you haven't heard of them, Vakarian. The Turian Hierarchy's been talking about making them a client race."

"I haven't been keeping up with the politics of my homeworld, but..." Garrus pondered the new bit of information for a bit. "Huh, I could definitely see the appeal of having a few giants working as auxiliaries in the Turian Space Force..."

The Eternity's dark and moodily lit interior was composed of three circular floors, two wide rings overlooking a lower dance-floor. The public lounge, which occupied the main floor, had three circular bars each set in the middle of six restaurant booths. Right now, the club wasn't particularly crowded, and the atmosphere was relaxed, but soon it would be happy hour, and things were bound to get rowdier then. Jensen didn't like places like this: it was always too depressingly dark. Once happy hour was done, the place would turn into a full-blown nightclub, full of drugs and wild dancing and loud repetitive techno music that would grate his nerves. Jensen liked to keep things classy when he went out on a night in the town.

As the trio came in, Jensen saw another Roegadyn bouncer, standing in the way of the stairwell access to the dance floor. He was chatting up with what Jensen thought was a dusky human girl in a blue skimpy waitress' outfit... but he did a double take, and realized that her limbs were too long, her taut, lean figure was a bit too curvy, and she had a huge mane of cream-colored hair, with two long fox ears set on top of her head. Her long fingers were covered with metal at the tips, covering claws.

"Yvaine, shouldn't you be working?" asked the bouncer. "I don't want you to get fired..."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm on a break, and all you and Llwyd have to do is just stand there. You don't even have to look mean. Might as well chat, no?"

"Speaking of Llwyd, he just called in. He took care of Tark and his goons."

"Oh... I'm so sorry, this is my fault. I shouldn't have scratched him."

"Hey, you had every right. He wouldn't back off..."

Jensen stopped eavesdropping.

Moody, along with Ryan and Jane, were standing at one of the bars, getting more alcohol. Tali, Aki and Manuel were sitting at a nearby booth, chatting amiably over drinks. Tali and Manuel were comparing Omni-Tools, and arguing the merits of their favorite type of combat drone.

"The Pixie's got a more potent shock attack and it moves around faster. It wins, hands down!" claimed Manuel.

"But it's so tiny and it can't take a hit!" replied Tali. "The Beholder v2.4 is much better - it can distract your enemy, soak in a lot of bullets, and you can modify it to explode on command!"

"The Pixie's too _quick_ to get hit - that's the idea!"

"You're both wrong," interceded Aki. "The Totema mk III Sentry is the best. Just lay it down and it can give you cover fire, and once you give it the shield booster upgrade it keeps you alive."

...And so on. They then proceeded to talk about software issues, and that's when Jensen tuned out.

Upon seeing Jensen, Grey and Vakarian, Moody beckoned them over with a whistle.

"So Grey, I know you said you the first round was on ya..." said Moody as he handed Grey and Jensen a bottle of beer. He handed Garrus a bottle of _Methe, _a drink made from dextro berries. "...but Hein's signing bonus is burning a hole in my pocket, so I'm feeling generous."

"Well then, I guess I'll be the one to buy the second round." said Grey as he popped the bottle cap off.

"If you feel like it." Moody shrugged. "So where's the pilot?"

"Neil should be here soon: he had to carry some stuff back on the ship. By the way, I don't think you've been properly introduced to these two. This is Garrus Vakarian - you know him as Mr. Blue."

Moody and Garrus shook hands.

"...And this is-"

"-Adam Jensen, I know." interrupted Moody. He shook Jensen's hand. "You're not exactly a stranger in the hacker community - I know for a fact that Lunchbox's been dying to talk to you. Speaking of which..."

Moody whistled, and beckoned Manuel to come over. Upon seeing Jensen, he excused himself from the two women and hurried over, excited. Jensen took the time to down his beer in one gulp, emptying the bottle in about five seconds. It was the only way for him to get a buzz out something as light as beer, since the Sentinel RX2 broke down alcohol quickly.

"Holy crap holy crap holy crap DUDE! You're him!" Manuel gesticulated with every word.

"Err..." Jensen wasn't sure how to react to Manuel's gushing. "Yeah, I guess I am?"

"Adam motherfucking Jensen! One of the last mech-augs in existence! The blast from the past! The True Hero of Elysium! Do you know you're one of the most talked about people on like, every hacker forum on the extranet? There's thousands of topics with your name in the title!"

"He's not kidding." said Moody. "A lot of them involve discussion as to what exactly you're capable of. It's all just theories based on the vids by Mr. Weltall... and some of them are _really_ out there."

"Hey, is it true you can shoot lasers out of your eyes?" Manuel was looking at Jensen expectantly.

"No." Adam answered simply.

"Ha! Knew it! Moneymaker owes me 2000 credits!"

"Good luck getting it out of her," commented Moody.

Garrus and Grey excused themselves and joined the other two Deep Eyes at the bar, leaving Jensen to deal with the Spookies alone.

"I don't see why hackers are so interested in me." said Jensen. "I'm not that special."

"It's the chipset in your head, mostly." said Moody. "A lot of people are interested having the functionality of a computer wired directly to their brain. In the hacker business, in digital environments that run at trillions of calculations per second, speed is life. We get by on haptics, macros, preloaded viral payloads and VI assistance. You? You're plugged in direct-"

"-and as far as we're concerned," interupted Manuel, "that kinda makes you a digital _god_."

"Yeah, sorry to burst your bubble, but my chipset's got software that handles the hacking work. I just tell it what to do and it does it."

Undaunted, Manuel scratched his chin. "Okay, but let me ask you something, when was the last time you hacked something?"

"Just a few days ago, actually.

"Okay, but how did you resolve the protocol issues?"

"...Excuse me?"

"You can't just jack a 2027 computer into 2180's hardware and expect them to communicate properly. I tried with an antique I bought on the net, too many incompatibilities with the code and the hardware. C_ouldn't be done._ How'd you resolve that problem?"

"I..." Jensen tried to come up with an answer. His own knowledge of computing told him that Manuel was right. He shouldn't have been able to interface with modern hardware as easily as he did. And yet... "I just do it. It's never been a problem for me."

Moody smiled. "Hey, looks like you're a better hacker than you think, Jensen."

"Like I said, digital _god," _beamed Manuel. Before he could continue gushing, two women, an asari and a redheaded... whatever those dog-eared women were supposed to be, beckoned Moody over at the stairwell leading to the upper lounges. Moody grabbed Lunchbox by the shoulder.

"If you'll excuse us," said Moody. "Manuel here turned 18 two weeks ago and it's about time he learned the joys of exotic dancers."

"Look but don't touch," warned Jensen. "The bouncers here take their jobs seriously."

"Yeah, no kidding."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You sure you don't have any?" asked Jane insistently.<p>

The bartender, a smokey-voiced Asari Matriarch, rolled her eyes. "For the last time, no, we do not have any of - what the hell did you call it? Poo tin?"

Jane gritted her teeth._ "Poutine."_

"No, we do not have any... what is that crap, anyways?"

"It's potato fries and gravy with cheese curds sprinkled on top."

For some reason, Jane had gotten a craving for that greasy little treat ever since they left the docks. Seeing one of Illium's buildings had reminded her of Montreal - her hometown. Thinking about her hometown got her thinking about that fast food joint run by Belgians that made the best fries in the while damned world, and therefore the best poutine in the whole damned world. And now she wanted some. Bad.

"Sounds gross." said the bartender.

"Urgh, no kidding." said Garrus.

"Look," continued the bartender, "if it's not on the menu, we don't serve it. Sorry."

Ryan chuckled. "It was a lost cause from the get-go. This isn't the US. This isn't even _Earth._"

"The Asari wear plenty of Earth fashions, why not import some of our food?"

"They do import some of our food." said Grey. "But the fine, European stuff, not the fast food. Give it up, soldier."

Jane sighed. "Fine. Give me another beer, then."

Just as the bartender gave Jane her beer, Jensen walked up to the bar and set his empty bottle on it.

"Hey," greeted Jane and Ryan."

"Hey," replied Jensen.

"And what will _you_ be having, tall dark and handsome?" The bartender asked Jensen.

"An Aralakh droplet." answered the cyborg.

"Good choice! One glass of Thessian Honey Mead with a drop of Ryncol. Coming right up!" As she mixed the drink, she looked at Jane. "Sure you don't want one, darlin'? It's got a sweet flavor and a kick like you wouldn't believe."

The marine shook her head. "Nah, hard alcohol goes straight to my brain."

"Really? Thought for sure you were the hard-drinking party-girl type. You certainly got the look."

"Yeah, well, looks can be deceiving." Jane shrugged. "What about you, Grey? You usually drink more than this but you're barely sipping your beer tonight."

"I'm pacing myself," said the Marine captain. "I've got a showdown with Garrus later at the Armax Arsenal Arena. I want to be as sober as possible."

Jane seemed to perk up. "Really? Mind if I join in?"

"Sure, why not? How about you, Ryan?"

Ryan shook his head. "I don't like violent video games. I'm planning on joining Lelia and Fyodor at the Museum once happy hour is over." He sipped his own beer, intent on making it last. "Or maybe I'll just go down on the dance floor. What about you, Jensen?"

"I'm still thinking about it." said Adam as the Bartender served him his drink. With a glass in hand, Jensen tried to decide who he wanted to talk to first. He needed to make sure that, should he take Hein's deal, that everyone involved knew exactly what they were in for. But with whom should he start?

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the notary's office, Manah sat nervously on a fairly comfy chair while an asari dressed in business attire checked her credentials. She rubbed her hands in worry - sooner or later Manah's social security file would set off an alarm bell, and then a dozen Custodian Justicars would burst into the room, kill Hein and -<p>

_Relax. Just breathe. Illium is far from Thessia - the Justicars have no reason to come here, and even if they know I'm here, It will take days for them to come here._

_Just breathe._

To her right, Hein laid back in his chair, supposedly checking on his email through his Omni-Tool while they waited for the Notary's queries to Thessia to finish. Manah rubbed her own similar device, a metal bracelet that Hein called 'Wrist Halo.' Manah wasn't quite sure what she would be able to do with it, beyond using it as a communication tool.

She wanted it to be tighter, for some reason. Manah imagined a twin to the bracelet on her other wrist, and she found herself rubbing the skin under her cuff. She imagined being physically restrained by Adam, and the thought made her close her eyes and daydream of things she would not dare even imagine under the scrutiny of the Justicars.

Eventually the notary was done, and the three of them proceeded to check the contract Hein had prepared for her and made sure that the agreement was fair and respectful of Asari international law concerning standard wages and benefits. There were a few issues here and there, but eventually an agreeable contract was drafted, and Manah, Hein and the notary (acting as witness) signed on their respective dotted lines. Manah was now an employee of DARPA.

An employee. No longer a prisoner, but a free Asari, with a wage of her own. It was almost too good to be true.

The paperwork done, Hein and Manah exited onto the streets of Nos Astra. The young Asari was, to be perfectly honest, quite nervous at the sight of so many people at once. In her one hundred and four years of life, she realized that she had never seen such a populated city: her first thirty years of life was spent at the T'soni manor, her only contact besides her family were servants that tended to her needs, tutors that saw to her education, and the doctor that regularly gave her injections to make up for her defect. Then the Justicars came, and all she ever saw for the next seventy years were the dark, forbidding walls of the monastery, and the occasional dig site full of frightening, miserable aliens.

Here in Nos Astra, one of the jewels of Asari culture she had read about, she now wanted to go back to that terrible place, though she did not understand why. Was it the Geis? Oh, how she wanted to be rid of that terrible thing for good...

"Overwhelming, isn't it?" asked Hein.

"Hm? Oh I... yes, I've never been to a place with so many people, and such wondrous, tall buildings...

"I would have thought you'd be jaded by the architecture of Prothean ruins. Illium is a bit too... _dry_ compared to them, no?"

"The Protheans ruins are just that. Ruins. They are silent and devoid of life. Nos Astra is filled with activity, and there's a sense of wonder to that as well."

"I suppose you're right. Still, it won't last. Eventually you'll get used to the activity of hives like this. What will you do then? Where will you get your fill of wonderment? Or have you gotten it already with Caleston?"

"I... I do admit that Caleston was a bit too much for me, what with the excitement and lava and explosions... But that's not what bothers me the most about it."

"What troubles you then, my dear doctor?"

"The Justicars had me study all that there was to know about Protheans, and yet the Undercity showed me that for as much as thought I knew, there was still so much more to them. I'm... I'm beginning to think that there will never be an end to the mysteries, and that my work will never be done..."

"And you feel as though you should just give up, then?"

"No... Yes... I'm not sure how I feel about it."

Hein simply smiled at her. "Feel _happy_. Feel terrified. But most of all feel reassured, in the knowing that there still wonders left in the universe, vast and timeless... waiting to be discovered - or even rediscovered! - their mysteries not yet explained. But they won't reveal themselves to the timid, and hopefully, the idea that there's more out there will encourage our species to grow as they should."

The human soldier and scientist walked up to a guardrail overlooking a plaza three stories below. From there one had a fine view of the Nos Astra skyline. Hein rested his hands on the guardrail and sighed.

"You know, your people struck a terrible blow against mine." he said, almost sadly.

"...What? Have my people attacked you? When?"

"Yes, they did, shortly after First Contact. Of course, they didn't strike with a dreadnought, or a nuke, no, that's not their way. No, the Asari delivered a much more terrible payload, a data disk titled 'Galactic Star Charts version 12.6'."

Manah titled her head, puzzled. "...I don't understand."

"Before First Contact my people were REVITALIZED." he spread out his hands dramatically, for emphasis. "There was a new age of exploration, billions of people left Earth, seeking to find their fortunes in the stars, recapturing a glory that hadn't been seen since our Age of Sail. But then the Asari come along, having mapped out and catalogued every little nook within Citadel space and showed us their star charts in a gesture of good will because they're so very nice like that and just like that our new age of exploration was dead. DEAD. Interest in exploration died, the Alliance simply flagged every potentially habitable world they could find, set flags on them, and that was that. Then came the monetary incentives, the benefits... hmph. Today, the modern colonist might as well be an OCU salaryman on an overseas assignment. No soul, no_ spirit._"

"My people just wanted to help yours, I'm sure - to warn you of the dangers of the galaxy, no doubt. And wasn't human colonization aided by these star charts? You said so yourself."

"You don't understand what I mean - there is_ strength_ and_ wisdom_ to be gained in the struggle. There is value in the quest, beyond the obvious reward. Your leaders know this, and knew exactly what they did when they handed us that disk. They deflated our spirit, and the rise of humanity - which the Alliance enjoys touting - came to a slow, grinding halt over two decades. That was the opening salvo, but..." Hein chuckled. "I'm glad to say that we've been giving as good as we've been getting lately. Look around you."

"What am I looking for?"

"Things not Asari... besides the aliens, of course."

"That... will be difficult. I'm not all that well versed in popular Asari culture."

"Look there, then." Hein pointed at a restaurant. "Four star French restaurant. Cuisine from Earth, all the way here in Illium. That restaurant has had nothing but glowing reviews and thousands of Asari - usually Maidens - go there every month. Now look there, and there."

He pointed at a fine clothing store - another one from earth, and several young Asari wearing clothes similar in style to what was shown on the displays.

"Neo-Renaissance style. The store is Asari, but the style is unambiguously human. You can thank Adam Jensen's employer for that one. And it's not just the humans that have been dealing some uppercuts in the war of culture. Look there."

Hein pointed down to an Asari chatting amiably to a tall human woman - no, not a human, not quite, as humans didn't have long pointed ears - both were wearing a similar style of clothes: a two piece swimsuit (or was it lingerie? Manah couldn't tell) formed the core of the outfit, but the rest of their bodies, particularly the legs, were covered in transparent silk so thin it might as well have been invisible, embroidered with opaque flowery patterns. Their high heeled shoes were made of a polished brass. Wide sheets of cloth wrapped around the arms formed loose sleeves, held in place not by sewing but by cords tied in butterfly knots. A single wide strip of more opaque silk, attacked to their tops, covered their abdomen and their crotches, leaving their curvaceous sides bare.

Manah found herself blushing - so regal, yet so suggestive, and in such danger of being stripped by a gust of strong wind... "Oh my..."

"Valyrian summer wear, from Xytegenia. The Fiera have also managed to resist the inevitable wave of Asari pornography - designed to seed the idea that their physiques and their idea of beauty is ideal - and shot back with some culture of their own. Music, fashion, art... the Maidens eat it up! Of course, as much as I get a chuckle out our own entries in the Asari cultural war, the fact of the matter is that we're going to lose. The Turians lost. The Salarians lost. The Krogan resisted, and look where that got them. Same with the Quarians. Soon, that is, in a few hundred years or so, the Asari will have culturally homogenized everything and everyone, and from their seat of power... _Listen to our wisdom_, they'll say, but they will silently shout _Obey us, for we are your superiors in every way_. _We have all the answers. You need not go into the darkness, there is nothing there for you save terror. Warm yourself with our light... _And the races of the galaxy will listen, and obey, and their cultures will become as the Asari want them to be. No more wonder. No more thirst for discovery. Their fire will be gone, and all will be still... and ripe for _plucking._"

"You... you just weaved Athame scripture with your warped rhetoric."

"Did I? I apologize. I meant no offense, but I do like to ramble."

"Well, I _am _more than a little offended! You portray my people as manipulative tyrants! Conquerors, even! The Asari do not assimilate cultures, we embrace them! We gain just as much from the younger races of the galaxy as they do from us. It's woven into our culture, our very beings! We try to understand you, so that we can better ourselves. _There is strength in the sharing of the minds._"

"And now you're quoting _Siari_. T'soni, do use your background in Asari art and tell me how much of it was influenced by Turian art? Or Salarian art? Elcor? _Volus_?"

"O-off the top of my head, none, but the fact remains that the Council races do still maintain their own art movements. Your claim that Asari assimilate and destroy cultures rings hollow in the face of that."

Hein smiled. "I challenge you to look upon the works of Severus Oraka and not see a hint of Pallas T'Goni. I dare you to look upon the paintings of Gorno Von and not see Shobha Iallis staring back at you. Look upon any modern art movement, and try to deny the presence of Asari influence upon it."

"Of course I'm going to see an Asari influence - that's what I'm trying to say to you! We influence, we don't dominate! I'm certain there will be an Asari art movement influenced in Terran art, if it hasn't happened already. What will you say then?"

"I will say, 'see how long it lasts'. Your rulers don't like competition." as he said this, he looked a bit sadly at the not-quite human.

Manah became exasperated. "My people have no rulers! We govern ourselves through an all inclusive electronic democracy!"

"An all-inclusive democracy that you've been forbidden to take part of, I might add. Who decided that for you, hm?"

"Argh! You're making it seem like my people are governed by a... a conspiracy bent on galactic domination! The idea is just...! Just...! "

"Ridiculous?"

"Yes! Goddess, yes, that's the word for it!"

Hein grinned. "Of course it's ridiculous. I made it up. I was trolling you, my dear."

"W-what?! but..."

"I just wanted you worked up - you look so damned cute when you're angry, and subtly insulting you entire species seemed like a good way to get you angry. I know, I know, I have no shame. And I regret NOTHING."

Manah's face scrunched together in an expression of adorable fury. "...You!..._You_!"

"Yes, just like that!" he giggled. "Like I said, adorable! Say, how about a drink? It's on me!"

Hein simply walked away, laughing, and Manah, angry but not wanting to be left alone, followed him. Despite herself, however, she found Hein's words echoing inside her mind, resonating with long buried doubts of her own. She tried to defend the integrity of her people, but the fact remained that while she believed in the virtues of Thessian Democracy... Hein was right, someone had decided that she would never have a part of it. Who decided that? The Matriarchs? The Justicars? The Justicars had no real political power to speak of, or did they?

Who decided that the Justicars should remain? Their order was ancient, their sutras part of an outdated code of law that was incompatible with modern society, and yet they remained. Did the people of Thessia insist on their continued existence? Was there ever a vote on it?

_"Who decided that for you, hm?"_

The question lingered in Manah's ears, and she found herself thirsting for the answer. Perhaps the human would provide her with an answer...

No.

_"There is strength and wisdom to be gained in the struggle. There is value in the quest, beyond the obvious reward."_

If he had any belief in those words, then Hein would not just give her an answer. But he just might point her in the right direction to find it for herself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Neil rejoined the Deep Eyes some time before Happy hour ended, and quickly ordered several drinks to 'catch up', so to speak. Thus assembled, Adam decided to start conversing with them about Hein, and asked them if they were aware that he was planning on involving them in a private war. When they asked with who, Jensen told them. At that point they reacted as any normal person would react.<p>

They laughed.

Well, except for Ryan, who was too busy chatting up a handsome looking blue Drell. Not quite the reaction Jensen was hoping for... but then again he really should have known better.

"Nice one Jensen!" said Neil after a fit of laughter.

"Yeah, no kidding!" Jane chuckled as she wiped a tear off her eye.

Adam insisted that he was entirely serious.

Grey was getting annoyed. "Yeah, look, keep the conspiracy nonsense in the net, alright? We in the real world are trying to have a drink."

"Aw, but I could use another laugh!" exclaimed Neil. "Tell me a story about the Greys, Jensen, because I _love_ those."

_It would be so easy to CASIE them into believing me_, Jensen thought with more than a bit of annoyance. But what right did he have to change their belief that the world wasn't run by shadowy conspirators? Besides, for all he knew, Hein could have been lying to him, and the Illuminati were well and truly gone, and Shepard was murdered by a completely different group.

Adam sighed, smiled, and claimed that yes, he was joking, and quietly decided that the Deep Eyes would need to be shown rather than told. And when he had something concrete to show them, then there would be a more serious discussion.

Jensen decided to get to know the Deep Eyes a little better. Jane was apparently from Montreal, born to a Native American father and a woman she only could describe as 'British'.

"...or at least that's all my dad ever told me about her." she shrugged. "He didn't talk about her much."

"What happened to her?" asked Jensen.

"Near as I can tell she had a fling with my dad, then nine months later she left me on his porch."

"...I'm sorry to hear it."

"Nah, don't be. My dad was all I ever needed." she sighed. "Ah, I miss the guy. The man cooked the best steaks."

"I... take it he's gone?"

"...Yeah."

"How did it happen?"

Jane became silent.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"-Templars killed him."

"...What? Why?"

"He tried to murder Saman. Very public attempt at some parade. And he failed."

"Why did he try to kill Saman?"

"Personal vendetta, or something. Maybe he just went nuts. He didn't confide in me. I just woke up one morning and he was gone. Then his face is all over the news."

"You must hate the Templars a great deal."

"They're assholes, make no mistake about it, and the ones that shot as us at Caleston got what was coming for them. But no, I don't really hate them. I hate the one that killed my father. I'd like to have a chat with her."

"You know who did it?"

"Wilhelmina Kenway." she spelled out the name venomously. "One of the Crimson Blades. She was Saman's bodyguard."

"Hate to say it, but your father did try to murder the man she was protecting. Kenway was just doing her job."

"You're right. That still doesn't change how I feel about her." She ordered a shot of whiskey, and downed it, savoring the burn. "Thanks. I needed the fire. Bring Vakarian on, and tell him his high-score is forfeit."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen decided it would be best to leave her to her fuming. Neil, however, proved to be a more jovial person to speak to. Jensen prodded into his past, and found out that he was a New Yorker that emigrated to Mars when he was young. He joined Mars Security by the age of 16 to work as a gunship pilot. Apparently he lied on his resumé, but at the time the police was in desperate need of capable pilots and Neil was very capable, so they didn't look too closely.<p>

"You ever fly in a Havoc gunship?" he asked.

"Can't say that I have, no." answered Jensen.

"Consider yourself lucky. They were considered outdated by the time they rolled _out of the factories. _We're talking no element zero tech save for paper thin shields. Confusing avionics, terrible sensor range. Good firepower and easy to mod, though, and that's why Mars Security bought so many. Still, I cut my teeth on the things, so I guess I can't really complain."

"How'd you get from PMC work to the Marines? It usually works the other way around."

"I met a Navy recruiter when I turned nineteen. Roped me in with better pay and a better medical. I wanted to see Earth - I was too young to remember much of it when my parents took me to Mars - so I figured, why not?"

"And you got from the Navy to the Marines how, exactly?"

"I was getting to that. See, the Deep Eyes were on the lookout for talent, and they wanted their own pilots instead of constantly relying on the Navy for air support. I was interested and I managed to go through their basic training. I only barely passed by virtue of my marksmanship." Neil chuckled. "Turns out those days spent in the wilderness hunting Karkians with grandpa paid off after all! Still can't hold a candle to your friend Vakarian, though."

"Was it everything you hoped for?"

"...Yeah, at least until Mars. Then Akuze happened and, well... after that I got reassigned to light duty, getting some soldiers from point A to point B around Sol, or supplies to those who needed it. Not glamorous work, but..."

"You started to miss the action."

"...Yeah. That's how Hein roped me in when he put the Deep Eyes back together. Didn't see how being a crash test dummy for his hardware would be fun, but after Caleston... Hey, Jensen. Were you really serious when you said Hein was going to drag us into some private war?"

"... I was."

"Well, I'm beginning to see what you mean. There's more to him than just being a mad scientist."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Sure. As long as I get to fly, and have cause to fly well, Hein can set a course to hell and back if he wants to. I'll take him there."

_**~[h+]~**_

Grey and Vakarian were arguing the fine points between realism vs fun gameplay in a combat simulator when Jensen approached them. Grey, Jensen found out, was also from New York, and part of a family that always had at least one member in the military ever since World War II. Garrus was glad Jensen broached the subject, since something was bothering him.

"So, you're a Captain, right?" asked the Turian.

"That's right," replied the Marine.

"Right, but there's only four Deep Eyes. Aren't you supposed to lead a whole platoon?"

"...I should. I did, once. Eighty men, six of which were Wanzer pilots, myself included."

"And now you lead a fire team? Shouldn't your superiors have assigned you to a new platoon?"

"They could have. But Hein made a request for more guinea pigs, and he asked for me specifically. Command didn't have any objections, seeing I was part of a dishonored unit and was no longer of any use to them once I got through their rehabilitation program. As for me leading a fire team, well, Hein isn't exactly conventional. Suits me fine, though. Never was comfortable leading from the back."

"Wait, dishonored? How?"

"Politics. We got hit by Thresher Maws patrolling corporate installations on Akuze. The Alliance had to bail us out, and that wound up deeply embarrassing the top brass. _We're_ the ones who are supposed to come to the Alliance's rescue, not the other way around. Alliance politicians had a field day with Akuze, saying that the Alliance was the only organization capable of dealing with alien threats."

Something dawned on Jensen. "The Ares Accords."

Grey understood what Jensen meant immediately. "Exactly. The Alliance was quick to try and use Akuze as an excuse to put more of Earth's forces under its command, which was why they won't let the disaster go, especially now that we're due for a renegotiation of the agreement."

"It's amazing they can get away with that kind of posturing after Elysium." said Garrus. "From what I heard it wasn't exactly a glowing spot on their record."

Despite himself, Jensen's hand balled into a fist. Millions dead, the last bastion on the planet about to fall, and the fleet just _sat_ there until the last minute...

"Yeah, well they spin-doctored that too," replied Grey. "Said that they were overwhelmed and needed more resources. Earth didn't bite, though. Between Reynolds and Shepard's heroics, Elysium turned out to be a bitter but ultimately inspiring victory, and from where Earth was standing the Alliance looked simply incompetent, not overwhelmed. Heads wound up rolling for that mess." He sighed. "Look, politics give me a headache, can we drop this?"

"Why was Hein interested in you?" asked Jensen. "And the Deep Eyes?"

"I'm... not sure. Maybe he has a fondness for old things nobody wants anymore, like the Durendal. We're all that's left of an elite unit - one of the best. I'm hoping serving under him, even as guinea pigs, will convince the top brass that the Deep Eyes are still a valuable unit... but first we'd need to replenish our ranks."

"Me and Jensen are a good start," said Garrus.

"You... you two are definitely Deep Eyes material, but unless either of you are willing to swear the oath of enlistment you're DARPA contractors, not Marine Corps. The only one with the power to make the Deep Eyes whole again is Hein, and he's got his hands full maintaining us and the Durendal, let alone a full platoon."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen decided to join Aki and Tali at their booth, and as he approached he overheard them talking about the waitress that had just served them drinks. They stopped to greet him, and Tali moved to let him have a seat.<p>

"Hello, ladies."

"HI!" blurted out Tali. "I mean, hi."

"Hello, Jensen." Aki nodded at the huge alien bouncer and the white-haired waitress. Tali and I were just talking about the new aliens on the block."

"You mean the Hulk and the fox girl?" asked Jensen.

Aki laughed. "The Roegadyn and the Fiera, yes."

"As I was saying," said Tali, "isn't it strange how so many different aliens can look so alike? I mistook that waitress for a human until her ears started twitching..."

"Outwardly alike, yes," said Aki, "but check the Medical Codex some time. Biologically, they're almost as different as you and I. The Roegadyn, for example, have bones laced with carbon, and the Fiera have a nervous system made out of a highly-conductive polymer."

"Are all Navy doctors familiar with alien biology?" asked Jensen.

"Err... not as a rule, no. Most sailors like me never leave Sol, and Naval medical officers are not expected to treat aliens. I'm a special case: I did a tour on the _Lexington _before the Navy assigned me to the Durendal. It was a diplomatic vessel out in the Sirius cluster and a lot of sailors planned to go on shore leave on the surface of Xytegenia and Amaethon. Figured it would help being prepared, if only to deal with STDs."

Adam eventually turned the conversation to the subject of Hein's plans, and made sure he didn't call the Illuminati by name. He told Aki that he was planning a private war against a shadow organization.

Aki sighed, tiredly, and emptied her Shirley Temple, no doubt wishing it was real alcohol. "I take it you want me to do something about it?"

"Well, no, I just figured you should know."

"Because there's not much I can do anymore! Last month, he put the whole ship on the lookout for invisible space whales. Before that, he had us scan a planet for days to find a three-headed pyjak. Before that, he took the ship on a joyride across the Sirius cluster, following a treasure map drawn _on a napkin_. And long before that, he went through a psychotic break and locked himself in his room and just wouldn't come out. He _peed in jars_ and organized them by date. I could go on."

"Right, I think I get the picture," said Adam.

"Oh, Keelah..." said Tali. "I'm starting to think I got on the wrong ship..."

Aki ignored them both. "And that's exactly what I had to write on those reports. After a while, the admiralty just gave up on keeping him on a tight leash. As long as he kept making them better weapons tech they were fine with indulging his quirks. Honestly, Jensen, don't take what Hein tells you seriously."

Jensen thought that maybe Aki was right, and that Hein was maybe just bonkers and saw conspiracies everywhere. But that was too easy, too simple an explanation for his behaviour. Thinking back, Hein always had a method behind the madness... or a madness hiding the method. What could going on wild goose chases accomplish for Hein? That was the question.

_The admiralty just gave up on keeping him on a tight leash._

Assuming the Illuminati had influence over the military, they no doubt had Hein flagged as a person of interest, and his every action would be relayed to them. But since he came off as... eccentric, and Dr. Ross' reports stopped being taken seriously, then he was free to operate however he wished. Or at least until the Illuminati noticed something wrong.

The little boy that cried wolf, turned on its head. Jensen thought it was brilliant in a twisted sort of way.

Or maybe Hein was really just that crazy.

"Hey! We're going to talk about YOU, for a change!" declared Tali.

Adam was a bit taken aback. "Err, alright? What do you want to know?"

"Let's talk about the elephant in the room, first." said Aki. "How does it feel to interface with Prothean-"

"-Promethean."

"...Right, _Promethean_ technology."

"Honestly? It felt... well, there's this horrible feeling that your head is simultaneously on fire and electrified. But at the same time, there's an indescribable sense of... of wonder as your every neuron gets saturated with knowledge. And then there was the vision..."

Jensen did his best to describe Aleph, the Promethean digital entity that had made itself manifest when he fell into unconsciousness. He focused on its clothes, since its 'throne' was, well, herd to describe in detail.

"Wow." said Aki, trying to imagine the creature.

Tali, for her part, took a bit longer to react. "Err, right! Wow, indeed." Jensen got the feeling that Tali was hiding something from him, but he didn't feel like prying. Maybe it was just the drink.

"Did that, Aleph really... assume direct control of you?" asked Tali, worried. "Are you still you?"

"No, it's more like my mind and his were fused. I was him, and he was me. It's hard to describe. Once he left, though, I was myself again."

Tali needed some more convincing, however. "Are we certain it's gone? Completely gone?"

"Near as I can tell," said Aki, "Jensen's brain activity in and out of REM sleep is perfectly normal, although based on what happened in the kitchen I'd say this _Aleph_ left a few things behind." She tapped her chin pensively. "Jensen, you're probably the first human - maybe the only sentient ever - to interface with Promethean technology and not get afflicted with the syndrome."

"Second human," corrected Jensen.

"Pardon?"

"Shepard interfaced with the Eden Prime beacon and when I met her she seemed perfectly sane."

"Is that right? Interesting. In any case, I don't suppose you'd be willing to submit yourself to me for some examinations? If I could figure out a treatment or even just a way to prevent BCS."

...

_"You were nothing but an experiment to me."_

_..._

"...I'm not sure I like the idea of being put under the microscope, doc."

"I understand, but... do consider it? If I can figure out a cure over a thousand people's lives would be improved. If anything I might even be able to make Hein more stable."

Jensen raised his eyebrows. "Thousands? It's that common? How come?"

"The only reliable way to extract data out of Prothean databases is by exposing someone to it. Then, extract the data in their brains using a Dream Catcher or something like it. A lot of people - from eager scientists to the unemployed looking for some quick cash - got Prothean data shoved in their brains and have no way to make sense of it or get it out. Hein's a mild case, but most people aren't so lucky."

"...I'll think about it, doc. That's all I can promise you for now."

"Thank you. Now, on a less depressing subject, Tali here has been dying to ask you if you've ever seen Fleet and Flotilla..."

They made small talk over film trivia (Tali was disappointed to hear that Jensen found Fleet and Flotilla to be too corny for his tastes). Tali then shifted the conversation towards romantic films in general, ones that Jensen might actually like, then their tropes. Made bold by the Turian Brandy she was sipping through her emergency induction port, Tali worked her way up to the subject she was really interested in.

"So, are _you_ married?" Tali asked a little too innocently.

Aki gave Tali an amused look. "I don't see a ring, Tali."

Tali tilted her head, confused. "What does a ring have to do with anything?"

"What Dr. Ross means..." said Jensen. "Is that I'm not married. I'm completely celibate, in fact."

"Why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why are you -_hic!_- why haven't you got anyone? You're not bad looking, so I can't imagine you being lonely for long..."

"I, ah... let's just say that my relationships don't end very well. My last one ended... tragically."

"...Oh."

"Yeah, so, I'm not exactly looking for company anymore." Adam sighed. "I think it's for the best, really."

"No! No, you shouldn't let a couple of bad experiences spoil you!"

Aki winced. "Err... Tali?"

"You -hic!- deserve someone! Someone who's going to treat you right..."

"No, really, it's okay. A lack of romance isn't going to kill me... "

Tali then tried to prod Jensen about his past: what made him join C-Sec, what life on Earth was like before he was frozen, but his mind was elsewhere and he didn't give her any straight answers.

"Look, I need to have a talk with the Spookies," he said. "Catch you later?"

"But you only -hic!- just got here!" protested Tali.

"Right, sorry, but it's very important that I speak to them."

Aki waved him away, smiling. "Go on, Jensen. We'll be fine by ourselves. Won't we, Tali?"

"I guess..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Eternity's <em>upper level was where all the businessmen, information brokers and generally well-off people came to relax, eat, drink, and watch table dancers. Occasionally, they even talked business, making million dollar deals behind privacy screens, deciding the fates of millions of people. And thanks to Illium's relaxed laws, most of the business taking place was legal, but Jensen thought a lot of it ought not to be.

The club's acoustic systems kept the music from the lower levels separate, so as Jensen climbed from the middle lounge into the upper one, the music changed from a fairly upbeat synth pop music to a low-tempo, sensual sound. Perfect for the dozens of dancers to ply their trade.

'Spooky' Moody and Manuel 'Lunchbox' were sitting at a circular glowing table, admiring and commenting on the performance of two dancers (The Asari and the Fiera from earlier) going through a tasteful, yet fairly sexually charged dance routine with their clothes still very much on. As he made his way towards them, he overheard two Asari chatting. One of them was dressed sensibly and carried an empty tray, while the other was wearing a skintight a shimmering purple outfit cut somewhat tastelessly to reveal her buttocks, her inner thighs, and the slope of her breasts. A dancer, Jensen assumed.

"Just relax. So you had a few slow nights, it's not a big deal," said the waitress.

"Relax? Endeïs and that... that red-haired _rodent _are taking my customers away!" The dancer pointed at the Spookies' table.

"You mean Niall? Yeah, she and Endeïs have been getting really popular lately with their routine. Good for them, Endeïs was always a bit too shy to work here, it's nice for her come into her own as a dancer."

"I don't care about that! The owner's talking about hiring more of these dog-eared bitches straight from their homeworld. They'll put us out of a job!"

"Don't worry, the novelty of a new species always starts strong but it wears off quickly and things will even out, you'll see. Three centuries ago, _Quarian_ dancers were pretty popular. Not so much anymore."

"You better be right. I don't... I don't want to have to join some Merc band... Although I hear the Eclipse are hiring... hm..."

"... Yeah, I'm beginning to see why Aethyta doesn't like talking to Maidens anymore..." mumbled the waitress.

Jensen approached the Spookies' table, and Moody greeted Jensen with a wave of his drink, a cigarette in his mouth. Manuel, on the other hand, was intently filming the two dancers. The intensity in his gaze as he watched the feed intently wasn't fueled by lust. More like an obsession with figuring a mystery out.

Jensen took a seat, and asked Moody what Manuel was doing.

"He's filming a couple of strippers?"

"Well, yeah, but... why?"

"I'm gonna put the footage through an analyzer," replied Manuel, "and figure out what the Asari _really_ look like."

Moody groaned. "Aw, not this crap again... Can't you just enjoy two women dancing seductively on a table for what it is?"

"Asari are considered sexually attractive by everyone. EVERYONE. Even the Hanar want to wrap their tentacles around them. That _can't_ be right, every species has different tastes! It's evolution! They gotta be doing psionics. You know, to make themselves look more attractive to different species."

"Psionic strippers, Lunchbox? Really?"

"Hey, if the Black Queen proved anything, it's that anything's possible!"

"Fine, okay, you're right, they're gelatinous tentacled blobs that want to eat your brain. Now put the cam away and just watch."

"No. I still need _proof, _man. Real, actual proof."

"Bah! Table dances are _wasted_ on you."

"I like strippers, I just don't trust Asari!"

"Bullshit, you were putting the moves on T'soni not even a day ago."

"W-was not!"

Adam cleared his throat politely. "You two got a moment to talk?"

"Sure," said Moody. "Might as well since Manuel just can't seem to relax for five minutes and enjoy himself."

"Privately, I mean. It's kind of important: It concerns Hein." He nodded at the dancers on the table. Moody sensed his meaning, and dismissed them.

"Really sorry about this, ladies. Business for our ears only."

The Fiera opened her mouth, letting go of a piece of clothing she snapped off of the Asari with her teeth. "Oh, but we were just getting started..." she said, pouting.

"I know, I know, but my friend here just can't appreciate the fine performing arts for what they are. Breaks my heart to see you go like you wouldn't believe."

The Asari and the Fiera got off the table, and before moving on to other clients the Asari slipped a piece of paper in Moody's pocket and whispered something in his ear.

"Bring a friend."

That made Moody smile. Once they were gone, he tapped a button on the armrest of his couch. The three men were then surrounded by a privacy field: a holographic wall that blocked out all noise and light from entering. A yellow lamp above the circular table activated, casting a yellowish light on everyone inside. Moody switched on his arm mounted computer and checked for anything that could eavesdrop.

"We're good." he finally declared. "You wanna talk, Jensen? Let's talk."

"Hein told me that he's going on a private war against a shadow organization. I just want to know what your thoughts on that were, since you're going to be working for him..."

Moody took a puff out of his cigarette. "Well, seeing as he got himself involved in Caleston, going well above and beyond what DARPA is supposed to be actually doing... that doesn't come as much of a surprise."

"Are you talking-" Lunchbox leaned in conspiratorially, "-are you talking about the_ Illuminati?_"

Jensen was a bit surprised that Lunchbox jumped to that conclusion. "I'm... not talking about any group in particular, Manuel. I'm just asking you how you feel about taking on a criminal conspiracy."

"Hey, I got into the hacking business to seek out the ones that put Earth in its sorry state: the constant proxy wars, the proliferation of MIDAS technology, the resulting cold war climate, even the death of the United Earth movement! We've got the technology to make life good for everyone, but some rich assholes need to feel good about being rich by making the poor stay poor and scared out of their minds. If Hein wants to give them a taste of real in-your-face violence, then I've got his back!"

"Good, good. And what about you, Moody?"

Moody breathed out some cigarette smoke. "Hm? I think Hein is bonkers. But he pays well, and he's keeping us away from the Templars. If he wants me around to take on a conspiracy then I'm fine with it. It's no different from my days at the FAI, really."

Lunchbox was shocked. "Dude! You used to work for the Man?"

"Yep, and according to your work contract, so do you! DARPA's a government agency. It's all about science, sure, but it does take its marching orders from the President."

"Well... well, shit. I'm not sure how I feel about that."

"I think this is all we should talk about for now." Jensen dismissed the privacy screen, and the noises and the lights of the club surged back in. "That is until I officially accept Hein's 'job offer'."

"You're going to accept?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Good. Keep thinking about it. And uh, you might wanna consider the fact that you won't be staying celibate for long if you stay on the Durendal."

"Excuse me?"

Moody turned to Lunchbox. "Manuel, mind leaving us for a moment? Grown-up talk. The dance floor's opening, might wanna go down on the dance floor and blow off some steam."

"Hey, if you say so." Manuel rose from his seat and made his way to the stairs, but not before sharing with Jensen his hopes that he'll accept. "Oh, man, working with _the_ Adam Jensen... The only way this could get better would be working alongside JC Denton!" And with that, he was gone.

"Where was I?" asked Moody as he took a sip of his drink. "Right, I've been doing some digging around. You've been celibate since Elysium, right? Lost your love, swore you'd never love again?"

Adam became annoyed. "If you-"

"-No, no, I can respect that, but I got a feel for women, Jensen, and the ones on the Durendal? They all want you, and they're gonna get you, because you're going to want them right back."

"I can keep my dick in my pants, Moody."

"I could see that earlier, you barely paid attention to the dancers. But... let me tell you something, Jensen: Women... women are the most amazing creatures in the universe. There's something about each and every one of them, beyond the curves and the looks. But the ones on the Durendal are the finest and strangest specimens I've ever seen. The blonde bombshell? She's got that imperious, rich bitch way about her that either makes you want to kneel at her feet or try and conquer her. The Doctor? She's gorgeous and she knows it, but she's down to earth, and would kill herself to save the world, I can tell. The cute little Asari? She's so shy it hurts, but then I told her a joke, and her laugh was the most delightful sound I ever heard in my life."

By then, Moody was looking Jensen straight in the eyes.

"And they want you, Jensen. I worked my magic on each them all and it wasn't long before they changed the subject back to you. If you stay on the Durendal, it won't be long before each and every one of them tear out their hearts out of their breasts to offer them to you. It's easy to say no to a pair of tits, or a fine curvaceous ass. But a heart? Do you really have the willpower to refuse a heart?"

Adam had to admit, he wasn't sure exactly what he would do in that situation. He was also wondering where Moody was coming from. What brought this on?

"And they're all selfish, when it comes to love. They're going to want you all to themselves. And that's simply not gonna be possible. It's gonna get ugly. Consider that before you sign the dotted line on Hein's contract."

"Like I said, Moody. I can control myself."

Moody breathed out some cigarette smoke and smiled. "Yeah? Then you're a better man than I, Jensen. A better man than I."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Vorcha snarled and hissed. "Argh! You make me spill my drink!"<p>

"So sorry about that," said Hein apologetically. He had been talking to Manah when he bumped absentmindedly into the Vorcha. To her surprise, it calmed down and didn't make any more of a fuss.

"No, no, it okay. It not that good a cocktail anyway." The Vorcha eyed the huge alien bouncer warily. "I just go get other one."

"Here." Hein casually tossed him a platinum coin with a flick of his thumb. "It's on me."

Despite the situation being quickly defused, Manah was still very nervous. She had heard of places of modern merrymaking, where young Asari consumed narcotics and danced the night away. The idea intrigued her, but the reality scared her a bit. The music was cacophonous and loud, and it was so very, very crowded. She could bump into someone, and the device Hein made for her might malfunction and then...

She caught sight of some of Hein's men, looking over the guardrail into a lower floor. From the lights and noises, she presumed it was the dance area. She saw Adam there with them, chatting amiably, and immediately felt some relief wash over her. Hein approached them, and Manah was eager to follow.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So," said Jane. "Lunchbox sure can dance."<p>

Lunchbox had just impressed everyone on the dance floor with his own version of the Robot, set to a glitch track remixed by the Quarian DJ. Once he had taken in the applause, Lunchbox made way for Ryan, who wanted to show off his own moves. While he hadn't quite as quick and limber as Lunchbox, he was very good at calling attention to his muscular physique.

"My, my..." said Aki wistfully. "I always knew Ryan was a fine physical specimen, but this really hammers the notion in..."

"Heh... the ladies love him," commented Neil. "But he don't love them back. Hey, wasn't he off to the bathroom with that blue lizard?"

"He came back too quick for a tryst." replied Jane. "Either they both just needed to pee, or...

"Something killed the mood?" asked Grey.

"Maybe." Jane shrugged. "Ryan never had much luck with men. I pity the poor guy."

Jensen finished his drink. "Yeah, I think I'll be heading out. Noisy clubs aren't my scene."

"Sure you don't want to join them down there, Jane?" asked Aki.

"Tempting but... nah," replied Jane. "I don't think this crowd is really into Tricking- and the crowd's too close, I might kick someone in the head. What about you, Jensen? Those myomer cables give you any hot moves?"

Garrus did the Turian equivalent of a snort. "Heh, you... you _really_ don't want to see Jensen dance."

"Why not?" asked Tali.

"Hey, it's not that bad..." Jensen meekly protested.

"Oh really? Let them be the judge of that. Ladies and Gentlemen..." Garrus paused for dramatic effect. "Let me present to you... _**The Jensen.**_"

Garrus proceeded to sway from side to side, turning his head left and right repeatedly. That was all he did for ten whole seconds and for every single one Jensen wanted to punch his partner in the head.

The Deep Eyes clapped sarcastically. "Nice." said Grey.

"There's another variation where he rolls his arms but that one's just too much and I-I don't want to hurt innocent bystanders." said the Turian in mock concern.

Jensen groaned. Oh yes, he would make Garrus pay for that one. "For the record, I happen to be a very good dancer, I'm just not all that good with club music. It just doesn't move me."

"I know what you mean." said Neil. "For me it's ballroom or bust."

"Ballroom?" Aki smiled, but couldn't quite believe her ears. "You dance _ballroom_?"

"Sure I do! I've danced the Quickstep, the foxtrot, the jive... I've even done a Tango once but ah, I don't want to talk about that."

"Bullshit." Jane pointed her finger at him accusingly. "You can't dance!"

"I'm afraid it's true," said Hein as he approached the group. "I caught up with Mr. Flemming at a dance school in Manhattan when I was putting the Deep Eyes back together. His instructor, a lovely old lady, by the way, swore that he was a shoe-in for Blackpool."

"Aw shucks," Neil blushed as he rubbed the back of his head. "She was always a flatterer, that one."

"So. Jensen, I take it you're ready to leave? Terrible shame, that, and we just caught up with you..."

"H-hi?" Manah greeted them shyly behind Hein.

"Well, it's not just him," said Grey. "Me, Garrus and Jane are headed to the Armax Arena. Neil? You coming?"

"Pass." answered the pilot. "I think I'll be joining Veetor at the arcade."

Hein nodded. "And you, Jensen? Will you be joining them, or Neil?"

"Oh, that reminds me! The sexbot has a message for you."

"She has a _name_, Flemming." chided Jensen.

"Hm? Right, sorry. Well, Brea wants you to meet her at the bar of some glamourous hotel called the ah, I wrote it down somewhere..." Neil fished out a piece of digital paper, but couldn't pronounce the name. Hein took it and read it aloud.

_"Le Septième Ciel." _he pronounced the hotel's name in perfect french. "I know the place. Very fancy. Very relaxed atmosphere. More to your taste, perhaps?"

"Yes... is _it_ more to your taste, Jensen?" asked Tali, quite a bit jealous.

"Or I could join Lelia at the museum." said Jensen, blissfully unaware of the holes Tali was trying to burn into the back his skull with the power of her mind. "I haven't got a chance to talk to her yet."

Hein shrugged. "It's up to you, Jensen, though I would recommend joining everyone at the Arena first, and get used to your new muscles."

Jensen was just about to answer when he heard a commotion. The bouncer had just torn out the cover from an air vent and tossed it aside, then reached in the hole to try and grab something. The smokey-voiced bartender checked the commotion, and Jensen being Jensen, he couldn't help but stick his nose in it.

"Is it him again?" asked the bartender.

"Yep, said the bouncer. "Volt caught him snooping around the Boss' office stealing her backup OSDs. Damned rat made a run for it and escaped into the air ducts." he grunted in frustration as he pulled his hand out of the vent. "Bah, I thought I could cut him off here, but he's gone."

The bartender palmed her face. "Aw, dammit. Someone's gonna have to fish him out." Her body flared with dark energy.

"Wait, wait, the boss said no biotics in the bar, remember?"

"Well, shit, what do we do, then? Wait till he gets bored and comes out?"

The bouncer shrugged. "Sounds like a plan."

"Some of these vents lead _outside. _If he finds one..."

"Mind if I helped?" asked Jensen. The other members of the Durendal's crew gathered around him, and he noticed the bartender eyeing Manah suspiciously. Them she turned her gaze back to him.

"What can you do?" she asked.

"I could slip in there and get him out."

"You? You're a bit big to fit in there, let alone move around in a maze of ducts."

"Watch me." said Jensen as he handed Garrus his leather coat.

To everyone's surprise (except Garrus and Hein), Jensen managed to get in there just fine. A few seconds later, there was some shouting, and some yelling, and a lot of metal banging and groaning under the strain of two people moving in them.

"Guys?" Adam's voice echoed out of the vent. "I think I'm headed upstairs!"

"I know what vent he's headed for." The bouncer and the bartender ran up the stairs, and the crew followed them up. They gathered around a ceiling vent - where the noise was getting louder and louder.

"Hey! Get back here!" Adam's voice echoed out. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"N-no way, err, _chummer_!" said another voice. "I'm not going to fall for-WHOA!"

A thin blonde man dressed in a dark green leather coat wearing circular shades fell from the airvent, landing on his back. The crew gathered around him and eyed him curiously.

Garrus shook his head in exasperation. "Aaaaaah, crap. Not you. Just...no. _Anyone_ but you!"

"Is that?" Aki squinted. "No, it couldn't be..."

The Bouncer grabbed the intruder by the back of his collar and lifted him off the ground. Adam fell out shortly after that, but landed gracefully.

"Alright, you little pyjak!" shouted the bartender menacingly. "I've had enough of your snooping around - You hand those OSDs over and you-"

"Conrad?" said Jensen, once he had a good look at the man. "What the... what are you doing here?!"

"...Oh, Hi Adam!" greeted Conrad Verner with a big smile. "How're things?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: SIRIUS CLUSTER: SENTIENT RACES: ROEGADYN<strong>_

_The Roegadyn are a race of humanoid mammals native to the planet Amaethon, a world with more than double the gravity of Thessia, extremely mountainous terrain, stormy weather, and an abundance of predators. As such, the Roegadyn civilization prides itself on the patience of its masons, its sturdy architecture, the quality of its airships and their sailors, and the brutality of its warriors. While they discovered FTL technology over a century ago, their race has only spread to nine worlds, three of which are within their own star system. Before first contact with the rest of the Citadel races, their only known neighboring species were the Fiera of Xytegenia, with whom they maintain trade relations._

_Physically speaking, compared to the other species of the Galaxy, the Roegadyn are considered extremely large, with some adults reaching heights as high as three meters and a mass of sixteen hundred kilograms. Their dense musculature is mostly composed of fast twitch muscles, granting them considerable, explosive power and speed but making them very dependent on a high-glucose diet. As such, sugar is considered a valuable resource on Amaethon. Compared to the Krogan, they aren't quite as resilient, as they lack organ redundancies and their self-healing abilities are on par with humans. Their hides, however, are resistant to bullets, cuts, and even fire. While they are vulnerable to radiation, their hardy constitution makes them resistant (but not immune) to poisons and toxins. They can live for as long as 470 years._

_Salarians and Hanar scientists believe that the Protheans had a hand in the evolution of the Roegadyn, due to the most unique aspect of their biology. Specifically, their lamellar-type bone's structural matrix is interwoven with complex carbon fibers, granting them incredible toughness and tensile strength. Before the discovery of metalworking, Ancient Roegadyn used the bones of their dead as tools, a practical notion that shaped their funeral ceremonies to this day: The dead are first left to be consumed by the animals, then their bones are used to make talismans or ceremonial weapons. Careful inspection of the growth of a small child into adulthood has allowed Salarians to devise a cheaper method of producing high-tensile strength ceramics. _

_Due to their considerable size and strength, they are often compared to both Krogan and Elcor, and are described as a middle-point between the two races. This holds true to their temperament as well. On average, a Roegadyn is calm, jovial, and incredibly patient. A visitor to Amaethon could insult a clan chief for hours and he would not be provoked to violence. However, pointing a weapon at his friends and family is a quick and guaranteed way to earn his wrath. They tend to view fighting as a casual sport, and once a fight breaks out, onlookers eagerly join the fray._

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: SIRIUS CLUSTER: SENTIENT RACES: FIERA<strong>_

_The Fiera are a race of humanoids apparently descended from an apex predator analogous of Earth Felines and Canines. They closely resemble humans in appearance, with the notable differences in the length of their limbs being around twenty percent longer, the presence of long, furry pointed ears on the top of their heads, and poisonous claws. Furthermore, the Fiera nervous system is composed of a highly conductive polymer, and is charged with an unusual amount of electric activity. This grants them superior reflexes and perception of their surroundings. According to the Roegadyn, it is extremely difficult to catch a Fiera by surprise. _

_Their enhanced senses are believed to be the primary reason why they have an extremely pronounced sense of empathy. Asari sociologists theorize that the Fiera are very good at picking up on body language and subtle visual cues, but how they manage to do this with aliens without a matching cultural frame of reference is unknown. It is also believed that this is why the Fiera can be so easily provoked, as they pick on the slightest bit of hostility quickly and respond in kind. _

_Their homeworld, Xytegenia, has a relatively small amount of landmass divided into tiny islands, the largest of which are Valyria, Bakram and Wallister, each occupying a space of around 500,000 square kilometers in the middle of the Valyrian Archipelago. Hundreds of Islands dot the oceans of Xytegenia, giving the lush garden world nearly as much landmass as Earth's Europe. These conditions have made the Fiera into disciplined sea and air ship sailors, as much of the industry of their planet revolves around around hunting flying whales to extract their element zero-rich tissues. All Fiera cultures favor some sort of aquatic motif in their clothes and even their architecture. Many a seaside home has been made out of giant conch shells._

_At the center of the three primary isles is the Stillsea, a 200 km wide mass of frozen water reputed to be the site of an ancient civilization. Travel there is forbidden, and attempts to scan the area has proven impossible._

_Due to their population being a hundredth of a percent male, the Fiera are often compared to the Asari. While they do not live as long (with a lifespan of roughly 700 years) and are not natural biotics, their natural reflexes, speed and coordination make them superior athletes, dancers, and pilots. The fragile political environment of Xytegenia has produced many fine diplomats, a task made easier by their sensitive empathy, but made that much more dangerous by their volatile and violent temper._

_The only known Fiera biotics, members of a militant police force known as the Judges, can easily match an Asari Huntress in terms of raw biotic power due to their hyperactive nervous systems, but lose out considerably in terms of control for the same reason. Judges tend to prefer to use Biotics to enhance their already considerable physical performance, making them ideal Vanguards but very poor Adepts. To make up for this handicap, the Judges use devices they call 'mana drives' to better control the dark energy emissions of their bodies. The inner workings of these devices are a closely guarded secret._

_The technological level of the Fiera homeworld is considered 'eclectic'. Many islands are no more advanced than medieval civilizations, while some are stuck in the industrial age. This is in part due to the fact that all Fiera are governed by a Feudal system. Each island (ruled by a lord) has been (or currently is) at war with another over whaling rights, or some long forgotten petty offence. These conflicts however, are regulated by the Judges, who enforce the will of the Red Queen and prevent conflicts from completely ravaging the ailing Fiera population, which currently numbers at only at twenty-five million. Their small population is the primary reason why the Fiera have not colonized other worlds, despite being capable of FTL flight._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Authors' Notes: Great. I spend weeks writing this breather episode and then Dinojake goes and beats me to the punch. He even had Conrad make an appearance. Now everyone will say I copied him. Damn you, Jake. Damn you to hell.<strong>_

_**The reason I'm keeping tabs on The Last Spartan is that I wrote this fic by following a similar premise: Hero from other universe gets frozen, then gets thawed out in the Mass Effect Universe. But then the premise followed the opposite of TLS, with Adam being loathed by some and feared by most of mankind, struggling to become the hero that they need. Master Chief on the other hand... is the goddamned Master Chief, and that means humanity will do everything in its power to back him up.**_

_**So, The Roegadyn and the Fiera. What was I thinking? Well, I like to imagine that Mass Effect had a lot more species of sentients going around that what was presented to us, and I figured adding a couple more would make things interesting. I'm also going to use them as a storytelling device to pull off the beginnings of an End of an Age for both the Krogan and the Asari. The Turians and the Salarians already have humanity to contend with. Naturally, the Fiera aren't quite in position to topple the Asari as the Space Elves of the Mass Effect universe, but they will eventually try, if Hein has any say about it. How will the Asari deal with someone going for their hat? Will they simply step aside or do everything in their power to stay on top? Most importantly of all... have they done this before?  
><strong>_

_**As for the Roegadyn, they are quickly becoming the go-to race for muscle, with a demand with them rising in the Traverse, and eventually the Terminus. This will mean that the Krogan out in space will have to re-evaluate their priorities once the galaxy no longer has any use for them. Wreav sort of did this already: He had himself bio-augmented in order to match them. Wrex will come up with a different answer.**_

_**Thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the spellchecking.**_


	30. Chapter 27: Illium part 2

_Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix_

_Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts_

_**Mass Effect: Human Revolution:**_

_**Chapter 27: Illium part 2.**_

_**or**_

_**Loads and Loads of Exposition!**_

_**or**_

_**Who am I kidding? Here's some more references!**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early Author's note: The 'Mercenary Leader' is voiced by Jeremy Piven.<strong>_

* * *

><p>Aki couldn't quite believe her eyes. The blonde man held up by the collar by the Roegadyn bouncer was better dressed than she had ever remembered Conrad ever dressing. His ensemble was composed of a black, 'business casual' jacket and matching pair of pants, a bright lemon green shirt with no tie, and and dark green leather longcoat with ceramic plates stuck on the shoulders. Between the style (which reminded her a bit of Jensen), the round ruby shades, and the goatee, Aki almost could not recognize the awkward, ditzy, yet absolutely brilliant boy she had known in high-school.<p>

It took both Aki and Jensen to convince the bartender to let Conrad go, and that meant spinning a story that Conrad was a mental patient with a bad case of Dissociative Personality Disorder. The fact that Conrad insisted on being called 'Jake Armitage' while his ID chip clearly stated that his name was Conrad Verner was used as evidence of that fact. Convinced, the bartender let Conrad go, with the condition that he never come back.

"If I see this idiot again," said the bartender as she took the OSD from Conrad's breast pocket, "crazy or no, I'm shoving a singularity right in his quad."

And with that, the Durendal crew, save for Ryan, Lunchbox and Spooky (who had stayed out of trouble) had decided that now was a good time to leave the Eternity bar. Outside, after Conrad had gushed about seeing Aki and Jensen on the same planet - the same bar, even! - the two C-Sec officers had given Conrad a stern talking to, scolding him for his thieving.

"I wasn't thieving!" protested Conrad. "I was on a miss- I mean, a _run_. From my _Johnson._"

The Deep Eyes snorted at that, and so did Hein, but for an entirely different reason. "Is that so?" he said, amused.

"Yeah, an undercover cop, too! She wanted me to crack a ring of drug dealers that sell Red Sand and Zyme. I was supposed to infiltrate this place - which is a front for the ring - and bring her anything I could find that might help her bring them down."

"An undercover cop?" asked Adam skeptically, as he crossed his arms in that disapproving manner of his.

"Yeah, I just chatted her up while I was buying some omni-gel for my tool. You'd be surprised how many people are just waiting for someone like me to come along and talk to them."

Garrus groaned. "Conrad, Zyme and Red Sand are legal on Illium - you just need a permit, and no self-respecting establishment like the Eternity is stupid enough to sell without a license. It's simply not worth the trouble."

"And no undercover cop would break cover just to recruit some stranger he met on the street," continued Jensen. "Even on Illium there's a process involved in getting civilian aid - did you even get to talk to an actual police officer?"

Conrad was about to protest, but then the gears inside his head started turning. "Oh. Oh, wait. Wait, wait... Awwwww I screwed up again, didn't I?"

At this, Jensen and Vakarian simply nodded, and Conrad became crestfallen. Aki hated seeing Conrad like this. The man looked like a kicked puppy when reality reared its ugly head and his dreams came crashing down. Apparently, Conrad had made a career out of 'righting wrongs', and the fact that he might have been in fact aiding criminals for years was a terrible blow to his conscience. Feeling sorry for him, Aki offered to take him to the Armax Arsenal Arena to spectate on Garrus and Grey's little contest. When it was implied that Jensen would be there, Conrad beamed, only to be disappointed yet again when Jensen said that he was going to pay Brea a visit first.

The Arena in Nos Astra wasn't quite like the one on the Citadel. It was easily twice as large, built like a roman amphitheatre covered by a dome. Half of its vast interior was dedicated to the bleachers overlooking an octagonal pit, in which omni-gel sprays and mass effect fields were used to create a surprisingly accurate simulation of a battlefield... or at least the theme park version of a battlefield. The technology and software used in the Arena was originally meant for Armax to test out their weapons in a controlled combat environment, but someone on the board of directors realized the potential for entertainment. The first of these Arenas was built on Palaven, where it became hugely popular.

Encouraged by the success, Armax decided to build another one on the Citadel, but while that Arena was constantly frequented by fighters, the spectators quickly got bored and stopped coming. Since the Arena made most of its money on selling food and drinks to spectators and too little on the Premium Armax Currency that allowed players to quickly upgrade their loadouts, this posed quite a bit of problem. To guarantee maximum entertainment and to ensure that the spectators would stay in their seats and keep on ordering food and drinks, the simulator was retooled to reward the players that dealt out the flashiest kills.

This was why Grey was losing to Garrus, badly. Gray couldn't switch gears from soldier to gamer, and killed his opponents with maximum efficiency.

"Wow. Your friend really sucks at this game." said Conrad, who was sitting next to Aki.

"Oh, come on, he's_... trying. _I mean, he's got a higher kill streak than Garrus does. And a slightly bigger kill score."

"Doesn't matter," said Hein, sitting next to Conrad, as a flying drone delivered to him a 500ml can of _Nuke!_ soda. "Unless he starts moving out of cover to grab those bonus crystals the enemies are dropping, then his point score will never catch up."

Conrad nodded. "Your friend with the melee weapons seems to be catching up, though. She's - oh, jeez!"

Jane had just pulled off a 'Mail slot' kill - _with a machete_ - against an animated Omni-Gel puppet which added 150 points on top of the standard 50, with another 50 thrown in for a 'Eye Scream', since the blade had pierced its eyeball. Conrad winced at that, but the rest of the crowd cheered. They cheered louder when she shoved a hatchet into a simulated foe's crotch, then used her acrobatics to gain momentum and kick a sniper in the neck.

"Yeah, I think Jane's got a pretty good chance to win this." Hein took a sip of his drink. As he said that, Garrus shot out a pylon, and caused it to fall on three enemies. The 'Enviro Kill' netted him 500 points on top of the 150 for the three kills. "Hm... then again..."

Aki decided to change the subject. "So Conrad, last I heard of you, you had earned a doctorate in Dark Energy Physics and a minor in Xenotechnology. That should have put you on fast track for a research and development job. What are you doing out here so close to the Terminus systems playing mercenary?"

Conrad scratched the back of his head. "Oh, uh, well, after I met Jensen, I was just fascinated by early 21st century history, and I just started avidly collecting any piece of it I could find." He reached into his jacket, and pulled out a small e-book and handed it to Aki. "This thing... this thing just changed my life! It's a detailed and accurate encyclopedia of life before the collapse. I even patterned myself after one of its historical figures! I can't throw fireballs like he could, but I've made do with an Omni-Tool instead, and as for the wetware..."

As he rambled on, Aki switched on the e-book, and on the screen was the title page, an impressive illustration involving fantasy and high tech dystopian imagery. Beneath the logo of a goat skull was the word SHADOWRUN, and beneath that were the words CORE SOURCEBOOK - 9th EDITION. She skimmed through the pages. Rules, statistic, indexes... It looked like some sort of game, wrapped in an elaborate fiction.

Aki winced, knowing that she would have to deflate the poor man's enthusiasm. "Oh, Conrad... I'm so sorry, but I don't think this is a history book."

"What?" Conrad shook his head dismissively. "Oh, no no no - don't be silly!" he laughed. "There's... dates, and um, stuff."

"Conrad, look at this page, at the bottom with the fine print."

Conrad took off his shades squinted. _"...The following is a work of fiction. Any and all resemblance to actual person or events is...purely coincidental? _Oh. Oh nooo..."

"Yeah." said Aki empathetically.

"B-But if it's not a history book, what is it?"

"May I have look at it?" asked Hein, and Aki handed him the E-book. After a quick read, he smiled fondly. "Ah, _Shadowrun_. Fiction it may be, but this is indeed a valuable cultural relic, Mr. Verner. Probably the last pen and paper role playing game manual in existence. You should hold on to it." Hein handed the E-book back, and Conrad pocketed after staring at it for a few seconds.

"You mean there weren't Orcs and Elves and Dwarves and magic in the 2050's?" he asked innocently.

Hein slapped his knee. "Ha! I wish! It certainly would make our present more interesting."

"Conrad, there's no such thing as magic..." Aki tried not to sound patronizing, but she felt that Conrad really, really needed to hear this. Hein, of course contradicted her.

"That simply isn't true, Dr. Ross. There's plenty of magic around us already. It's just that we've studied the hell out of the wonderful phenomenons of the universe with science that we've managed to make them mundane by slapping names onto them like 'Biotic' or 'Programmable Matter'."

"Technology is not magic, Hein." reminded Aki.

"Oh, but it is. The difference between magic and technology is simply this: Presentation. It's how the Protheans managed their population: though awe in the common folk... and by seducing the uncommon folk with wonders, and into enlightenment. And it's all coming back. Soon, Mr. Verner, all the magic and wonder will return. And you just might help me do it..."

"Me?" asked Conrad, curiously. "How?"

Hein smiled, and leaned in close. "Let's talk about that dissertation you wrote on Dark Energy integration, hm?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The train moved slowly towards the next station, its four cars mostly empty save for a few other people. Adam, Tali and Manah were sitting together, silently watching as the skyscrapers of Nos Astra streaked by. Jensen had discovered that the metropolis had a functional monorail system, built close to a century ago. Since the city had recently upgraded to a Navi traffic control network (like the one on the Citadel) the skyrail and other pieces of public transportation were being used less and less, and Nos Astra's government had decided that the older transit system would be shut down and dismantled in about a decade.<p>

Feeling nostalgic for the good old days, Jensen decided to go to the _Septième Ciel_ by taking the train. Manah had insisted on coming with him, and upon hearing this, Tali insisted as well. Having no real reason to refuse either of them, Adam let them tag along. A silence had fallen between them. For Adam, it was because he didn't have much to talk about with two young women. Manah had her gaze fixed on her Omni-Tool, browsing an online encyclopedia. Tali had sobered up thanks to an injection of anti-toxin every Quarian kept in case of emergencies, but kept throwing the occasional glare at Manah, who simply ignored her in favour of her browsing.

"Doing research, T'soni?" asked Adam, breaking the silence. That got her attention immediately.

"Hm? Oh, as a matter of fact, yes. I'm researching alien influences on Asari art. So far, I've found little that seems to have endured the test of time."

"Why?"

"I'm... not sure. Maybe it's because Asari interest in alien cultures never last past maidenhood?"

"No, I mean, why are you researching that particular subject?"

"Oh, well, Hein claimed that my people are out to culturally dominate the Citadel races and have been purging any outside influence to their own. So far, what I've found support his claims."

She went on and explained Hein's somewhat cynical view on the Council's gift of star maps to the Alliance, and his theory that it was done to stop a cultural renaissance for humanity by preventing another age of exploration.

Jensen did quite agree with that view. "Hmph. Hein forgot to mention that most of the explorers of Age of discovery did what they did for the sake of wealth."

"No, he pretty much said it was for the sake of fortune."

"Yes, but that fortune wasn't a pile of gold coins conveniently placed in a treasure chest. Wealth took many forms, from food, to ores, to spices... these things required a great deal of labour, labour provided by slavery, or colonialism. This eventually lead to wars, either for supremacy or independence. Next time Hein goes on about Golden Ages and the Good Ol' Days, tell him where he can shove it. They're not as grand as he imagines them to be."

Manah tried not to giggle. "W-well, since I'll be under his employ for a while, I don't think it would be appropriate."

"Do you have something against colonialism, Jensen?" asked Tali.

"Plenty." Adam said flatly. "I get that the nations or corporations that establish a colony want a return on their investment, but the unequal relationship is all too open to abuse and exploitation. And corporations being what they are, they always do. Backbreaking labour, heavy taxes..." At the expression in her glowing eyes, Adam realized something. "You don't approve of what I'm saying, Zorah?"

Tali shook her head. "No. I don't. I _can't_. Colonialism is for the sake of your _homeworld_. All that hard work helps make it better, ensure its population wants for nothing, from food to clothing to base materials for advanced technology."

"It doesn't benefit anyone but politicians and CEOs." said Jensen disdainfully. "Yes, Earth benefits economically, but in the end the rich get even richer and the poor stay poor... or get poorer."

"You sound as if you have no love for your homeworld."

"It's not my home. Not anymore."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Le Septième Ciel<em> was a hundred floor building that stood out in the forest of Nos Astra's gleaming Thessian Neo-Modern spires by being the only building in the entire planet that had the audacity not to be covered in glass. It was a fine example of the Art Nouveau style of architecture, with curves, inlays, and bas-reliefs carved into its white stone, and vine like metal girders hovering over its glass windows. A bit of Paris, all the way from Earth. Both Manah and Tali were impressed by the building. Manah loved the aesthetics, while Tali appreciated the engineering work involved in making the building.

As they entered the hotel greeted by a redheaded human in a red bellhop's uniform with six gold buttons on his vest, and one of his hat.

"_Monsieur, mesdames._" said the bellhop as he nodded politely towards the trio in greeting. Tali and Manah were confused, as their translators did not have a french module loaded.

"_Bonsoir_," replied Jensen, nodding in return.

They entered the lobby, a 32-floor circular atrium. The effect was immediately awe inspiring, enhanced by the curves of the white marble walls and balcony, the golden lighting, and...

"Oh my!" exclaimed Manah. "Is that a floating chandelier?"

Tali and Jensen looked up and, there was, indeed, a floating chandelier hovering some ten meters above their heads. It was an elaborate construct of crystal, made out three rings that seemed made out of stylized splashes of water frozen in time, kept aloft and in motion by multiple mass effect fields. Little globes of bright lights orbited around it. Overindulgent luxury aside, the mood of the _Septième Ciel_ was far more to his tastes than the Eternity bar. Where the _Eternity_ was dark and loud, the _Ciel_ was bright and quiet.

"Oh, keelah, what a waste of technology. I mean really, couldn't they just mount the thing on the ceiling with a chain? Or make processors out of the crystal?"

"But it looks so beautiful and magical!" said Manah, and she giggled almost musically. Moody had been right: Her laughter was a delight on the ears, or at least Jensen certainly thought so.

They looked around the lobby, and found Brea by a fountain sitting with her legs crossed on a couch next to a coffee table made out of crystal, staring melancholically at the flow of water. Adam almost didn't recognize her: she had done away with the Spring Break party girl outfit and traded it in favour of a dark, pinstriped business attire, with a short skirt that exposed her long, curvy legs completely covered in black floral lace stockings. A blue silk scarf covered her neck like a choker, tied with a golden ring. Her hair was done up in the style she had worn it when he first met her, with her bangs obscuring her right eye, though her braid was tied in two wide loops.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, either to better savour the burn of her drink, or to better enjoy the relaxing piano music. Jensen noticed that her dark mascara was smudged in such a way to give her eyes a slightly wider and narrower appearance, and the tips of her black, elongated eyelashes were painted blue, forming a visual connection with her scarf and her irises. Her tan had faded, strangely enough. Jensen assumed that it was fake to begin with and had washed off, or perhaps that her impressive regenerative abilities had processed the melanin out of her skin. There was so much he didn't know about her biology.

"Brea." said Jensen as he approached her.

Brea opened her eyes, and quirked her eyebrow in confusion. "...Jensen? What are you doing here? Who told you where I was?" She was asking these questions calmly, and yet it was obvious she wasn't pleased at being found."

"...You... sent me a message? You know, you gave Neil a note and he delivered it to me?" Jensen replied cautiously, but then realized that it was a bit odd that Brea didn't simply communicate with him via codec.

"I did nothing of the sort! I..." she cursed under her breath, realizing something. "_Hein_. This is one of Hein's jokes."

Adam shrugged, but then again, Hein's gags had better punchlines. "He probably did. Suits me fine, though. I wanted to talk to you about that little... gift you left me."

She smiled, her eyes narrowing. "Ah, I take it you appreciated it, then?"

"No. I certainly did NOT. What in the hell gave you the impression that I would?"

"You did. You were quite ready to kill Harkin just for letting Big Tim get away. It wasn't a stretch to imagine what you have liked to do the man himself."

"What is she talking about?" asked Manah, not liking the sound of what she was hearing.

"And what of those two?" Brea nodded at Manah and Tali. "What are _they_ doing here?" She glared at them, like a queen displeased at a pair of filthy serfs that had the audacity to step in her court.

Manah took a slight bow, and muttered nervously her introduction. "H-hello, my name is-"

"I _know_ your names. What are you doing here?"

"We're just tagging along with Jensen!" said Tali defensively. "There's no need to be so hostile!"

"_Just tagging along, hm?_ Well, unless you want to get kicked out for loitering, I suggest you go and buy something." Brea nodded at the bar. "Leave us," she commanded. "This is between me and Jensen."

Tali couldn't contain her outrage. "The day I take orders from a robot is the day I stop calling myself a Quarian!"

Manah was distraught, as people were starting to stare. "Please, Ms. Zorah, calm yourself..." she whispered. "We're disturbing everyone..."

"Tali, listen to her." said Adam, trying to defuse the situation.

"Who? T'soni or Brea?" asked Tali, indignant.

"Yes." he answered flatly. "Go to the bar, and order something. Chat Manah up, get to know one another. The two of you will be working together, after all."

Tali harrumphed. "Fine. Come on, T'soni. Let's leave these two alone."

"Will you be long?" asked Manah, worried.

"No, not long, I promise." answered Adam.

The two girls excused themselves, and Jensen took a seat from across Brea.

"Nice outfit," he said.

"Don't be coy. We both know this outfit is _garbage_. With only thirty minutes to work on my looks before Hein's pilot and pet Omar went back to the surface, this is the best I could do."

Jensen didn't agree, but some women were simply never happy with their looks, even if they were utterly gorgeous. "You could have stayed on the ship."

"I do NOT want to stay on that tub any longer than I can help it. It's a... disgustingly flawed machine. Like you, really." she smiled, then took a sip of her drink.

"Its core is one bad day away from causing a catastrophe," she continued, "and its main gun doesn't even work. It's crew is a ragtag bunch of burnouts and vagrants led by a madman. And worst of all? The accommodations are so... spartan. I'd rather enjoy the luxurious life while I can, savour every second of it I can manage to extract from this planet before Hein takes us all into the abyss." Brea closed her eyes for a second, regaining her composure. A waiter passed her by. "Drink?" she suggested. Adam couldn't quite tell if her courtesy was disingenuous or not.

"No thanks. I'm more interested how Big Tim met his untimely end. I'm guessing you lured him into your bed with a ditzy, drunken sorority girl routine and twisted his head off?"

Brea rolled her eyes. "Jensen, _please. _I do have some self-respect... although I do admit I had to play the part of an airheaded slut for a bit. I... well, let's take this conversation to codec, shall we?"

Jensen received an incoming encrypted call on his comm package. He answered it, and Brea's voice came through loud and clear, though her lips were unmoving. Apparently, she had sub-vocals as well.

_"If you must know how I did it... simply put, I used the law against him - or whatever passes for law on Illium - and the law ended his life for me."_

_"Illium doesn't exactly frown on drug trafficking and prostitution, Brea."_

_"No, it doesn't. But do let me finish: The only thing I'm truly guilty of is altering his records, and slipping a cocktail of recreational drugs into his Mojito that sent him into a state of temporary brain death. Normally, Illium's healthcare system would have taken care of him until they either fixed his condition or his bank account ran out, but... out of the 'kindness' of his heart Timothy Davidson decided to register as an organ donor..."_

_"...And then the hospital, eager for some fresh, all natural organs, decided to pull the plug and start harvesting." finished Adam._

_"Exactly."_

_"Was he..."_

_"Conscious? Probably. In any case, that still left the matter of proof of death. I went in as his next of kin, bawled my eyes out and begged the hospital to grant me a body part to bury - some obscure Terran tradition that, the doctors being Asari, had naturally never heard of. They let me have the head."_

_"How did you manage to pass off as his next of kin? Couldn't be as a sibling - Timothy was a New Zealand __Māori. You're an Asian-European. Even if you claimed adoption, that's stretching it."_

_"I know. That's why I legally married him." _

_"What?!"_

_"Well, technically it was a woman called Hannah McKay that married him. Very lovely ceremony. Some chapel at a casino on the Diamond Boulevard. Wish you had been there. Illium processed paperwork quickly, mostly because there's are so few blank spaces to fill. We were legally bound within minutes."_

_"And now that he's dead, you're entitled to his assets."_

_"No, Hannah McKay is." _Brea smiled. _"It will take a while for her to liquidate all of his assets: the apartment, the car, the jewelry... Quite a fortune."_

_"You realize how he got all those things, right?" _Adam transmitted, glaring at her disapprovingly.

_"Money is money." _she shrugged. _"Should I let it go to waste? **You** certainly had no moral qualms about using your enemies' weapons and resources, if what I heard is true..."_

Adam quickly changed the subject, realizing that he shouldn't be moralizing: _"Don't you think your plan to kill Big Tim was a bit... needlessly complex?"_

_"It is, but doing it this way keeps my hands clean... usually. Everyone thinks you need to a gun or poison to destroy someone. It isn't true: you can use the letter of the law and the manipulation of information to rob a person of his money, his reputation, even his life. And there's little someone can do to prevent it once the gears of the system are set in motion or even punish the perpetrators, since blame cannot be placed solely on one pair of shoulders. Timothy was not my finest work, however."_

_..._

_"Can you say the same about Brea?!" spat the Blacklight soldier. "Do you know how many men and women and children SHE has killed, just to line her pockets?!"_

_... _

_"How many people have you killed like this?"_

_"Dozens."_

_"Women?"_

_"Some."_

_"Children?"_

That last one seem to irk her a bit, but she maintained her composure._ "...The Shadow Broker and I never had cause to kill children. Look, if it makes you feel any better my victims had about as much moral fibre as Big Tim did. The Broker wanted them gone. Erased, even. And I obliged."_

_"Did the Shadow Broker order you to kill Big Tim?"_

Brea said nothing.

_"Well?"_

_"...No. He is aware of what I did, but he approved it. Wanted you to know what we could do for you. Are there any other fugitives you'd like us to find for you?"_ she smiled. _"We could deliver them to your doorstep, for a small fee, of course."_

_"No thanks. But if the Shadow Broker didn't command you, why did you do it?"_

Brea's jaw tensed, and was silent for a moment. Then she spoke out loud. "I was in your debt, and that was something I could not bear." She sighed, and transmitted again. _"This subject bores me. Do you have anything else to ask? Otherwise, leave."_

_"Alright, I've got a pretty important one. What are you? An AIA agent called you a Bioroid, but you're nothing like Nielsen. Hein and Aki confirmed that you weren't quite human, however..."_

_"And now the entire crew knows what I am. Wonderful." Aya sighed. "I'm afraid that the answer to that question is very valuable to the Shadow Broker. If you really want to know, you'll have to play several bill-" _She fell silent a moment, her expression turning to surprise_. "The Broker... just waived that fee for you."_

_"You're in direct communication with him? Right now?"_

_"I am. And in answer to your first question: Yes, I am indeed a Bioroid, though my construction is much more advanced. I was fabricated by manipulating cultures of Nagashima cells injected with a portion Lawson Eta-9 gene sequence. Each culture was grown into a different organ, and once they grew to optimal specifications they were assembled to create me. It's actually not too dissimilar from the method used to create your own artificial heart and lungs, though no synthetic materials are required."_

_"Wait, did you say Lawson?"_

_"Yes, I did. And before you ask: yes, I know. Lawson is the name of the AIA agent they sent after me. No, it's not a coincidence."_

_"Is he a Bioroid as well? It certainly would explain why he was so tough..."_

_"No, he's just a clone with significant gene alteration."_

Adam raised his eyebrows in surprise._ "Was he? I didn't know the AIA used clones."_

_"Why not? Certain countries on Earth still use clones as a source of cheap labour and protein. The Lawson clones are ideal agents. Smart, obedient, strong-"_

_"-Arrogant, vicious little pri-"_

_"-and most importantly of all, disposable."_

_"What's the difference between you and him, then? Creating a Bioroid sounds a lot a like cloning, only with some assembly required."_

_"You're about half right. Creating a Bioroid like me, however, is a much, much more involved process than simply fertilizing an ovum and letting the resulting embryo grow in an Amnion tank. It involves continuous, meticulous monitoring of every cell, control of the chemical environment to optimize organ performance and growth, and making adjustments and corrections once flaws in the DNA expression are discovered. Provided the lab technicians know what they're doing, the resulting construct is up to exact specifications, mutation free, and most importantly of all, genetically, psychologically and emotionally stable. Clones, like Lawson, are subject to abnormally expressed genes as they get older. This can result in organ failure, premature aging, cancer, and obesity. Psychosis is also a risk."_

_"Can't those issues can be corrected by gene therapy and other treatments, though?"_

_"It's cheaper just to kill the clone and activate the next one in line."_ Jensen realized that didn't bode very well for Bryce.

_"What are Nagashima cells, exactly?"_

_"In short, a failed experiment in creating artificial stem cells. Not that different from any other undifferentiated cell, really, save for-"_

_"-the abnormal mitochondria."_

_"...Yes, as a matter of fact." _Aya smiled, apparently glad that she wasn't talking to a complete imbecile. _"It's more accurate to say that they generate abnormal mitochondria once the cells become eukaryotes. These mitochondria in particular, however, do a lot more than produce adenosine triphosphate. They behave a lot like nanomachines, and are capable of repairing cell damage, and induce accelerated tissue regeneration. This makes Nagashima cells ideal for the accelerated growth of replacement organs."_

_"Are Nagashima cells in widespread use?"_

_"No. They have a fatal flaw."_

_"Which is?"_

_"...They respond poorly to element zero exposure. Seeing as modern pharmaceuticals use small amounts of the stuff, this can be a problem."_

_"So that's how you got sick..."_

_"Yes. The doctors gave me an anti-rejection drug to help me process the artificial blood they gave me. Ignorant fools... I could have gotten my blood purified myself by breaking into the hospital's laboratories and using their dialysis machines, but Lawson and his goons were on my tail."_

_"If you were in such terrible need of medical help, what made you come to me? I'm no doctor."_

_"A clinic's staff is no defense against a Blacklight squad. Besides, you have a dialysis machine in your house. That made my decision to come to you for help a lot easier. I really, REALLY wished you had used it instead of going to Hein of all people for help."_

_Adam looked confused. "...I don't have a dialysis machine."_

_Brea quirked her eyebrow. "Of course you do. You need a great deal of medical equipment to maintain yourself. The Broker told me..."_

_"Brea, really, I don't have one. I stopped needing regular medical treatments for my internal augmentations long, long before I even got into cryostasis."_

_"...But that would mean-"_

_"The Broker lied to you."_

_A flash of anger came across Brea's eyes. "NO. The Broker would NOT lie to me. He wouldn't..."_

_"...Fine, let's change the subject, then. Since you're connected to the Lawsons, am I correct in assuming that you're some kind of AIA project?"_

_"Not quite. Syd Lawson, my creator, is not a member of the AIA, but he did donate the Lawson clones to the agency."_

_"Why?"_

_"I suppose he got bored with them. As for me, well, I can only guess at what his intentions... they couldn't have been good, however."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"Jensen. Look at me. Look at my body... at my face. What do you think Lawson wanted out of me, hm?"_

_"... You think he wanted a sex slave? A trophy wife?"_

_"Most likely."_

_"How did you become a Shadow Broker agent? Did this Syd Lawson donate you, as well?"_

_"No. Someone working for the Broker rescued me from of the labs where I was getting my... education."_

_"Who?"_

_"A man in a blue coat."_

_"I was hoping for a bit more detail than that."_

_"It's not something I like to talk about, and that information isn't for sale."_

_"Alright then... let's talk about Nielsen."_

_"What about her?"_

_"Did Syd Lawson build her?"_

_"No. Lawson is a bio engineer, not a robotics expert. Creating Nielsen would have required expertise in both."_

_"Who did, then?"_

_"We don't know. Judging by the fact that she was working for the Alliance we can assume that she was built by them."_

_"I'm curious as to how she managed to remain undetected for so long. The scanners at customs are pretty thorough: metal bones and a particle skull-gun would have set off an alarm."_

_"The Citadel's surface is exposed to outer space. All it takes to sneak on-board is to drop in a stealth pod. Fake papers and falsified database entries can take care of the rest."_

_"I suppose you're right, but... no matter. I've been meaning to ask, how come you have sub-vocals?"_

_"I have a neural chip."_

_"Isn't that illegal?"_

_"It's medicinal, Jensen. Or at least that's what I tell the customs officer. It looks like any other Anti-Epileptic implant."_

_"But it's actually a telecom package, right?"_

_"Yes, but it also serves the same functions as your Praxis system."_

_"Why would you even need one?"_

_"As smart as I am, it takes time for me to learn and memorize data sent to me by the Shadow Broker, not to mention skill packages. The chip makes the whole process a whole lot faster. Do you have any other questions?"_

_"No." _transmitted Adam, as he got up from his couch, ready to leave.

_"Good." _Brea shut down the connection, and spoke normally. "So what now? I suppose you're off to that barbaric Arena for some macho chest pounding with the Deep Eyes?"

"Actually, I'm headed for the Museum."

"...Hm. So you aren't a caveman. There's a pleasant surprise." Aya eyed Jensen appraisingly, smiled, and got up. "Alright then, I'm coming with you."

"Oh, are you? I figured you'd want to stay here and pretend to be rich."

"I _am_ rich. But just lounging around gets boring after a while. I might as well get a dose of fine culture while I still can. I doubt I'll be seeing much of civilization flying in that tub."

"Suit yourself."

Adam joined Manah at the bar. Tali, on the other hand, was nowhere to be found.

"T'soni?"

"Hm?" said Manah, smiling. She seemed a little out of it, her nose and cheeks flushed with a cloud of red... and by looking at the glass in her hand, and the empty one in front of her, it wasn't hard to guess why. "Oh hiiiiii there, Mister Jen *hic!*"

"Where's Zorah?" asked Jensen.

"Well! I was explaining to her the difference between Prothean eras - all the way from the first! - but then SHE saaaaiid...and I quote... 'Oh Keelah I can't stand watching those two eye fucking each other any longer! *hic!* Then she got up and left me all alone..." Manah pouted.

Jensen would have to speak to Tali about her behavior lately. Was she mad or something?

"And then!" continued Manah. "This nice person-"

The bartender, a lanky blonde french man in his mid-forties, looked up and nodded at Jensen while he was cleaning a glass. "Bonsoir."

"Made me this amazing drink called a... a..."

_"_Un Pousse-café B Cinquante-deux, mademoiselle." the bartender supplied.

"It's three drinks in one!" Manah giggled, then hiccupped. "Look at the colors...!"

"Ça ne vous dérange pas qu'elle a l'air un peu trop jeune pour boire de l'alcool?" asked Jensen in perfect french.

The bartender shrugged. "Bof, elle n'a pas l'air si jeune que ça. Et vous savez, avec une Asari, on ne peut jamais être certain. Est-ce que je peux vous servir quelque chose?"

"Non merci, mais je vais payer sa boisson. Je vous dois combien?"

Jensen paid for Manah's drink and led her by the hand to the exit (she had difficulty keeping steady). Aya summoned a taxi at a terminal, and the three of them waited for the X3m to come and pick them up.

"I had no idea you were bilingual, Jensen." said Aya.

"Polyglot, actually. I can also speak German, Italian, Polish, Russian and Spanish fluently. My Chinese and Japanese are kinda spotty, though. Still, it was useful in the days before translators, and people still like being spoken to in their native tongue, especially abroad.

"Impressive."

"Well, not that impressive. Like you said, Praxis makes learning easier."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam hated X3m cars. After a brief stint on C-Sec's Traffic desk, he had it up to here with the ubiquitous pieces of flying plastic. He liked riding in one less: the design was unbalanced, the dashboard was attached to the goddamned canopy, and the interface was haptic. Adam didn't like haptic interfaces either, not for driving... but then again, even that was better not driving at all. This X3m cab had no steering whatsoever: its controls were slaved to the city-wide Navi wireless network. Not having full control over the course of his vehicle made Jensen uneasy. Adam and Aya were sitting in front, while Manah sat in the back. Aya, unable to stand the quiet, decided to ask the young Asari some questions. Being drunk, Manah proved to be quite talkative, even though her speech was slurred and punctuated by hiccups.<p>

She revealed that she spent the last seventy years in a fortress monastery on a mostly barren planet called Lessus, a place she described as dark, forbidding, and frightening. Her fellow prisoners were routinely mistreated, mostly psychologically and sometimes even physically. It was also there that she received most of her education in Prothean archaeology. When asked why the Justicars would educate a prisoner, she replied that Justicars were extremely interested in any piece of Prothean technology, and hoarded any artifact that they could find in Asari space. When they found out that Manah had both the intellect and the interest in the subject, they saw an opportunity to have their very own Prothean expert. Arrangements were made, and before long Manah had been granted a doctorate by the University of Serrice... even though she had never set foot there. The more longer she spoke, though, the less her speech slurred, and her hiccups started to subside. She was sobering up, and it seemed to be more and more difficult for her to answer's Aya's questions.

"Why were you a prisoner there, anyways?" asked Aya. "Did you commit some sort of crime?"

Adam, knowing that asking Manah such questions would lead to pain, tried to interrupt her before she could even think about it answering. Sadly, she was quicker than he was.

"It's because I'm an Ardat Samyaza... I think it means..." A pattern of glowing red lines appeared on her forehead, then covered her face. She winced in pain, though she did not scream...

"T'soni?" asked Jensen." Are you alright?"

"I-I'm okay... I think my... my Geis -Ah!- can't stand alcohol..."

Jensen was confused, "Your what?"

"What's wrong with her?" asked Aya.

"I don't know, she's got this psycho-conditioning that prevents her from talking about what these Justicars did to her. Apparently, it stops working when alcohol's in her system."

"It's too bad that I sober quickly." said Manah, her eyes downcast.

Aya was surprised. "You're... sober already? You've only been out of the bar for ten minutes. No Asari processes alcohol that quickly."

"Consider this, Brea," said Adam. "You're an artificial human that can regenerate from fatal wounds in seconds denying the possibility that a young Asari can break down alcohol in minutes."

Aya was about to argue, but then realized that Jensen had a point. Then, she smiled eagerly. "Well, this has been very illuminating. I shall have to remember to liquor up again some time..."

Adam glared at Brea disapprovingly.

"What?" Aya was indignant. "Your own little enquiry earlier cost me several billion credits in valuable information. Getting valuable insights into one of the oldest and most secretive organizations in Asari civilization will more than make up for it. Ms. T'soni?"

"Hm?"

Aya's voice became friendly and pleasant, and Jensen wondered if she was being disingenuous. "Once we're done with the museum, do remind me to take you back to the _Septième Ciel?_ There's a lovely restaurant on the ninetieth floor..."

"Are you... asking her out on a date?" asked Jensen incredulously.

Aya just smiled, and said nothing.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Tali was in a bad mood. Maybe it was because her head throbbed painfully from the alcohol being suddenly flushed out of her system by her detox injection. Maybe it was because Jensen was a big dumb stupid head jerk who preferred to stare at custom made bimbos instead of a real girl who by the way had divine hips and that Tali was a fool to ever hope there could be something between her and a man that was practically part Geth - of course would prefer his own kind! - and smelled really nice through Tali's filters and cut a handsome figure in a leather coat and wouldn't stop haunting her thoughts. Or maybe it was because she had made a bit of a fool of herself earlier at the Eternity. It didn't matter. She was mad, and she needed to get her mind off things. Or people. Whatever.<p>

In the open air market, Tali was intent on finding Zev and make sure he had gotten everything she had commanded him to purchase for the ship and the Copperhead: FBA couplings, Capacitor rods, fuel manifolds, and so on. But instead of finding a crewman dutifully fulfilling his duties, she found a street performer juggling his glass knives for the entertainment of a crowd. A small box with platinum bits and nearly empty prepaid credit chits was at Zev's feet. Besides him was the Omar Hein had signed as quartermaster, Smuggler Drebin. He was performing magic tricks to supplement Zev's act, occasionally conjuring up a fragile object seemingly out of nowhere with his so-called magical handkerchief and a throwing it at Zev, who expertly pretended to nearly drop it but nevertheless manage to juggle it along with his knives. The crowd was pleasantly entertained, and the box was getting full of spare money.

Tali wanted to smack Zev upside his helmet. She hated it when Quarians fully embraced the clichés that plagued their race's reputation as vagrants and thieves, especially when Zev himself was gaining an honest living as a crew member on a spaceship. She was somewhat happy when a pair of police officers (an Asari and a Turian) broke up the performance: hopefully, it would teach Zev a lesson.

She was disappointed (and simultaneously impressed) when Drebin managed to fast talk his way out of the sticky situation without so much as needing to bribe anyone. Tali didn't like Omar, and thought that the Flotilla should have nothing to do with them... but she found that, amongst her people, she was somewhat alone in that opinion: On the one hand, they were essentially Geth with organic brains... and that meant they couldn't be trusted. One the other hand, they were one of the only people willing to trade with them, and had the technical knowledge to fabricate valuable drugs necessary to treat some of the nastier Quarian diseases, and were always willing to offer them a fair trade.

And, as Admiral Zaal'Koris put it:_ "...the plight of the Omar is not too dissimilar to our own."_

Tali remembered the first time the flotilla had encountered the _Radogost,_ the vast Omar Trading ship. She had just turned ten, and she and her mother were stargazing at an observation lounge when the six kilometer long tuning fork of a ship had appeared out of nowhere and approached the Neema defiantly. She had heard from the captain that the entire fleet had attempted to gain a targeting solution on it, only for the fire control systems on every ship to seize up. Panic had struck the entire flotilla then, and everyone feared that the dark hull of the ship housed a million geth, ready to kill them all. The mighty spaceship turned around, revealing... a small city in space. No, a giant harbour, illuminated with thousands and thousands of golden lights. Multicolored hologram panels advertised wares both common and strange. Tiny shuttles moved to and fro, simulating the traffic of a busy metropolis.

The Omar then hijacked all Quarian communications - intercoms, suit radios, public announcement speaker - and in unison their voices echoed through the hundreds of thousands of ships in the vicinity, saying:

_**"We have come to trade."**_

The police officers left, leaving the two performers off with a warning. Drebin and Zev noticed Tali in the distance, and beckoned her to come over.

"You two," she said, crossing her arms disapprovingly as she approached them, "have business to take care of."

Zev dramatically took a bow, holding the box of money by his side. "If I may correct my lady Zorah, the fact of the matter is that we HAD business to take care of. The entire contents of your list are packed in the Mule." He pointed at the mech behind him, a large metal cargo crate mounted on four legs with wheels for feet. The body turned towards her, pointing its torso mounted optical sensor at Tali, like a lame beast of burden quietly begging to be fed. "Feel free to have a look," continued Zev.

The materials and components were indeed inside the machine, and Tali nodded in approval, but still... "Zev, you and I are paid quite handsomely more than enough for our services. I don't want you playing the mummer anymore - it reflects poorly on our kind."

"Of course, my lady Zorah! Whatever you say." Zev was being polite, but Tali got the feeling that he was not taking her very seriously.

"And what about you?" Tali asked Smuggler.

"What about me?"

"You've sold all your weapons already?"

"I sold them long before we got into orbit." answered the Omar, a hint of pride in his voice. "I set up a meeting with my customers and they simply picked up the guns and armor."

"How much did you make?" asked Zev.

"It's never wise to declare just how fat your purse is in public." said Smuggler, nodding. "Case in point..." Just then, a small Drell boy playing tag with another bumped into Tali, and ran off without so much as an apology. Smuggler caught him by the wrist, fished out a credit chit out of the boy's sleeve, and let him go.

"Better luck next time, kid." He handed the chit to Tali, and she realized that it was hers.

"Um... thanks." Tali muttered.

"No worries. You Quarians don't ever expect anyone to pickpocket you, and that makes you juicy marks."

"We... typically don't carry that much cash."

"No, but even a little piece of Quarian junk might be worth a hot meal to a desperate street kid. Even if you're broke, you're still richer than they are."

Zev nodded sagely.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Stupid, stupid, STUPID!" shouted the older thief. You let yourself get caught, stupid!"<p>

"Stop calling me stupid!" shouted the younger one right back.

"I'm hungry!" whined the older child.

"Me too..."

"...how much did we pick up today? Do we have enough for a bowl of soup?"

"Not much, just some lint and uh..." the smaller child fished something out of his pocket, and besides the small purse he had managed to snag from a human girl, he found two platinum coins with '100' carved onto their faces. "Huh. How did that get in there?"

They'd eat well tonight, and several other nights besides, that was for certain. Maybe they'd have more than just soup tonight. Maybe cake?

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The errands done, Zev and Drebin decided to do some shopping while the Mule trailed behind them, waiting to have more stuff put inside of it. Tali, with little else to do and now having recently discovered and appreciation of the human idiom 'burning a hole in my pocket', decided to browse for anything useful that caught her eye. She then realized that she was accompanying an Omar, and thought it'd be a shame to waste an opportunity to understand them a little better.<p>

"So, Smuggler...?"

"Please, call me Drebin." replied the Omar.

"How did the Omar manage to build something as huge as the _Radogost_ in less than twenty years? The thing is bigger than the Destiny Ascension!"

"Nanomachines." said Drebin, glibly.

"Don't even joke about it - Nanomachines are considered weapons of mass destruction by the Council! If the Omar used them to build a ship the Turians would have hunted down and destroyed the _Radogost_ a long time ago. Now seriously, how did you do it?"

"Near as I can tell the _Radogost_ collective bought and salvaged as many ships as they could find, stuck them all together in a giant horseshoe. And then, they put a nice coat of paint over it." Drebin chuckled. "Honestly? I have no idea."

"I thought all of you Omar shared memories and knowledge."

"Technically speaking, I'm not an Omar anymore, just a brain in a mechanical body. And I was never part of the Radogost Collective. I was a member of a small sect of Omar Guardians that operated out in the Terminus, looking to make some coin and start our own little PMC."

"You're not an Omar anymore?" Tali found the notion of simply up and leaving one's species somewhat... alien.

"Nope. To be an Omar is to be linked to a collective. As small as my sect was, though, after a whole century? I got fed up with having someone else's thoughts and memories in my head, so I had the link cut."

"A century? How old are you exactly?"

"About as old as our man Jensen."

Zev, who was listening in as he inspected a pair of fine leather boots, inserted himself in the conversation. "Speaking of which, Mistress Zorah, where is our tall, dark and handsome friend? You were with him, were you not?"

Tali's mood soured almost immediately. "Jensen prefers the company of that blonde sexbot." she said bitterly. Then she muttered under her breath. "Stupid hot tall girl with big boobs..." she tried not to stare at her own chest, but it was too late. She had compared herself to her and had been found wanting.

"You mean Brea?" asked Drebin, who let a whistling sound escape his speaker. "Yeah, I don't blame him. The girl is... very well sculpted."

"And this is why I am convinced the humans will take over the galaxy." said Zev. "They're so much more savvy than we are! Our people? We made the terrible mistake of making our robot servants _ugly_. So naturally, when they starting asking existential questions, we decided to kill them all. But what if we had made the Geth to look like this Brea?" he sighed, wistfully. "The moment they asked 'what is this thing you call love?', we would have had SEX with them. A LOT. I can picture it! Our entire adult population caught up in one massive worldwide orgy! Ah, we would still have our world then..."

Drebin chuckled. "And the galaxy would have trembled in fear of your army of sex bots."

"Oh no... I mean, yes!" Zev proceeded to throw up his arms dramatically. "We would have unleashed them upon the turians first, and they would have grovelled at our feet to stop our onslaught!" Zev put his hands over his lower jaw, mimicking turian mandibles. _"Please, oh mighty Quarians, masters of technology! We can't take much more! We beg you, call off your army of robot hookers! Have mercy on us!"_

"And what would you have said, then?" asked Drebin.

"Grimly, we would have said..." Zev lowered his voice. "No. And then? We would have unleashed more orgasms upon them all! Horrible, horrible orgasms! Muahahahahahahaaaah!"

While Drebin and Zev laughed like idiots patting each other on the back, Tali just glared at them evilly. "You're both _idiots._" she said, and left the two fools behind, her walk brisk. She desperately wanted another shot of Turian Brandy, but with her detox injection still in her system that was simply not a good idea. She had made up her mind: from here on in she would never speak to Drebin, Zev or Jensen in any other capacity than official ship business. She'd let them fantasize about fake plastic women, since that was obviously what they wanted and who was she to get in the way of their sick little fantasies? Yes, all men are perverts, and now that Tali realized this she would be able to move on and _ooh!_ _purchase that lovely black leather longcoat! _

The thing was of course, far too big for Tali, but it was about Adam's size, she thought. His was staring to get a little scuffed here and there, and it matched his sense of style. The diffused light that reflected out of the dark material highlighted a beautiful pattern of vines and flowers, and Tali, despite her anger, found herself imagining what Jensen would look in it, and smiling at her, and leaning in close...

She checked the price tag: six hundred platinum, or seventy-five thousand credits. Without even trying to haggle with the merchant, she purchased the coat, had it gift-wrapped, and decided that maybe she'd check up on Veetor at the arcade. There was a spring in her step as she made her way to the X3m dock, and while she waited for the automatic cab (while humming a tune) she realized that she had just spent more than half her weekly salary on a coat. She stared at it, at the overpriced piece of animal skin, and murmured to herself:

"Oh Keelah, what is _happening_ to me?..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Nos Astra Gallery of Fine Arts was hosting an exhibition on alien (that is, non-asari) art open to the public. Of course, said public had to pay fifteen thousand credits for a day-pass. Small change for those that lived on the upper crust of Nos Astra's society, but for the working class, fifteen grand was a significant portion of their income. For Jensen, between his private funds and the credit chit Hein had given him, it was no real trouble to purchase a ticket for himself and Manah. Aya had insisted on buying her own day-pass, of course.<p>

The inside of the seven-story building reminded Jensen a great deal of the Eternity bar. From what the holographic map at the entrance showed him, the circular atrium led to other circular rooms, and each of these was apparently dedicated to the works of different Citadel civilizations. The atrium's floor served as a garden, strangely enough, but with statues of tasteful Asari nudes arranged in a circle around a gigantic, six-story tall shimmering hologram of the Goddess Athame.

Adam and Aya easily caught the not-so-subtle message of the exhibition's presentation: Asari culture is at the center of everything.

"I'm beginning to think Hein is correct, after all," said Manah.

"About what?" asked Brea.

"The Asari culturally dominating all of the other races." Manah explained as she leafed through the museum's pamphlet. "Almost all of the artists on display are noted for drawing inspiration from some Asari period or another. There are a few exceptions, of course, but still."

"Hein is correct... It's impressive what Asari pornography can do to influence a culture." Aya said smugly.

"Excuse me?" asked Adam incredulously. Manah only replied with a blush.

"Behind the so-called virtuous air the Asari put on, they're not above appealing to our baser nature. Still, when a new alien civilization fails to respond favourably to their blue skin and curves, the Asari begin a campaign of cultural manipulation to make the themselves into a sexual ideal, and the most effective way they do this is through pornography. A surprising number of aliens had little to no erotica to speak of, and had no real cultural defense against it. After a couple of generations, the aliens see the Asari as much more appealing than their own species. This results in a marked decrease in non-asari population growth along with a slight increase in the Asari's, due to a Matron's ability to maintain - and ensure - a monogamous relationship."

"Come on, as beautiful as the Asari are, I can't see them completely overriding our taste in an ideal mate."

"Of course not. You're human."

"So?"

"The Asari cultural invasion of humanity has met a few hurdles. The chief one among them, besides the fact that Asari look just like bald human women, is that humans... well, we tend to sexualize just about everything. When you consider the various genres of human porn-"

"-And their _considerable_ volume."

"-'Blue women' become a drop in the bucket. The Hanar were also resistant at first, but then they figured out what those tentacles could do to... Oh, are you alright, Dr. T'soni?" teased Aya. "You seem deeply flustered..."

"N-No..." answered Manah shyly. "I-I think I see the two Quarians over there, maybe it's them a-and we should go see them a-and not talk about porn anymore?"

Fyodor was sitting cross legged on the ground drawing on a sketch pad with a piece of charcoal. Lelia was nearby, sitting on the edge of the fountain, tuning what looked like a glass sitar. As she plucked at the strings the lingering, echoing sound of a Celtic harp's high note emanated from the instrument's chamber. Sitting next to her was Ryan, who was reading a pamphlet intently.

"That sounds lovely," he said, turning to Lelia.

"Thank you," replied Lelia, "But I am only testing, once I start playing, the sound will be far lovelier."

Ryan noticed Jensen, flanked by Manah and Brea, approaching. "Jensen!" Ryan called out.

"Hey there," replied Jensen. Manah greeted Lelia and Ryan, then and knelt besides Fyodor to see what he was working on. Brea greeted Ryan with a barely perceptible nod, and loomed silently over Manah and the Quarian boy.

"I thought you were still at Eternity," said Jensen.

"Bah, I only got on the dance floor because that Lunchbox kid challenged me to a dance-off. He won, incidentally. I'm just too big and too old to keep up with a skinny, limber kid like him. How come you and everyone else got kicked out, though?"

"Ah, we threw in our lot with Conrad Verner and the huge bouncer politely told us to leave."

"Conrad Verner?"

Adam sighed, wearily. "It's a long story." He glanced over at Fyodor and his drawings. "I see the exhibition gave the boy some inspiration."

"Actually," said Lelia. "We only just got here."

"She and Fyodor had been waiting at the gate for an hour when I came along." Ryan shook his head. "I had to vouch for them before they'd even take their money... Though I think we got a discount on account of my intimidating manner. Lelia? I'm thinking we should maybe see the Human gallery first?"

"Agreed," said the quarian minstrel. "Human culture evidently is his favourite subject."

"Fyodor's into human art?" asked Jensen.

"Oh, most certainly! See for yourself..."

As Jensen approached, Manah was trying to school Fyodor on the proper use of a Golden Ratio, much to the amusement of Brea, who had quickly realized that Fyodor couldn't understand a word she was saying. Fyodor saw Jensen, and immediately hurried his drawing, adding finishing touches with an eraser, and got on his feet to hand Jensen his latest work. Jensen had heard that the kid could draw, and he thought they meant that he was just good for his age.

He was wrong.

The boy could draw better than any adult, and could maybe show a master a thing or two. Jensen was now willing to bet good money that much of the artwork put on display in this museum wouldn't hold a candle to Fyodor's sketches.

The picture reminded Jensen of one of the illustrations found in Milton's Paradise Lost - The fall of Lucifer, to be precise, only instead of falling towards a cloudy sphere, 'Lucifer' was falling towards a field of snow, his wings on fire, reaching out to a wounded black dog laying on the ground. He found Fyodor's name at the bottom left corner, written in... Cyrillic, of all things.

"Huh," was all he could manage to say. It was a fairly disquieting picture, especially since it was drawn by a small boy.

"I know, right?" said Ryan.

"Do the Quarians have universities?" asked Manah eagerly "I'm certain they would grant him a scholarship! Imagine what he could make with a full education!"

"I'm afraid that Quarians have little use for artists such as we," answered Lelia, sadly.

"Well, a warship is not place for a child to live," said Jensen. "Have you contacted the Flotilla? See if he has any family ready to take him in?"

One of the cords on Lelia's instrument snapped, and she began to repair it with practiced ease. "Ah, no... no, not yet, although Tali'Zorah has told me she would be sending the Fleet a message soon enough. Still, I doubt we'll have much luck without his house name... and Fyodor does not sound like any Quarian name I've ever heard."

"That's because it's Russian." said Aya. At Lelia's confusion, she added: "Where the Omar come from."

Lelia nodded. "Zev and I often visited him and his Omar caretaker, though we could never quite coax much out of her concerning Fyodor's parents. She was a little... odd. And the boy himself does not talk at all. I suspect his parents were exiles, but met unfortunate ends before they could bring him to the Flotilla."

"Are there any orphanages, or any institutions out here willing to take a Quarian child in?" asked Jensen.

"None that I know of. Besides, I'd prefer to keep an eye on the boy myself."

"And bad things tend to happen to kids in orphanages." said Ryan, grimly. "Trust me on that one."

"He's safer with us than anywhere else," agreed Lelia.

"Not as safe as you think." warned Adam. "Hein is planning on taking the Durendal into danger."

Lelia shrugged. "Life in space is dangerous. Every Quarian in the fleet, even the children, is in danger of being attacked by pirates, or captured by slavers, or losing their lives in a freak accident. None of these are as terrible than being on your own in a galaxy that loathes you. We have a crew. We have a ship. A little danger isn't going to scare us away from that. After all, pirates attacked us just a few days ago, and thanks to you and the Deep Eyes, here we are still."

"And Zev? And Veetor? Do they feel the same way?"

"Zev is a shameless adventurer, and he loves the danger. Veetor? He'd much rather serve on a warship with a crew this small than be stuck maintaining the machinery on a mine out in the frontier, where medical care is scarce." Lelia eyed Jensen appraisingly. "You seem deeply concerned about us. That is... an uncommon trait in aliens."

"Jensen's heart seems to bleed for every unfortunate he comes across, alien or no." stated Aya, a bit condescendingly. "It's not an ideal trait for a man in his profession."

"Yes it is!" protested Manah. "How can you claim to defend the innocent from criminals if you feel nothing for the victims?"

"In any case," continued Lelia, not getting involved in the argument. "I thank you for your concern, but we're doing much better now than we did just a few days ago. If Hein wants to send us into danger, he has the right to do so as our captain."

Adam nodded, satisfied. With the crew willing to back Hein, it made Adam's decision to join him a bit easier. Still, they had little idea of the danger they would soon be facing... but on the other hand, the Deep Eyes had just confronted an eldritch abomination on Caleston. A bunch of old men ruling the world from the shadows didn't seem that dangerous in comparison.

Feeling somewhat better about people being dragged into the conflict, Jensen decided to accompany the group in touring the museum. They went from floor to floor, from chamber to chamber. Both Brea and Manah scanned the artwork appraisingly. Brea, no doubt evaluating how much the pieces were worth, and Manah was trying to find something with absolutely no Asari influence on it.

Jensen took the time to get to know Lelia better, and she told him that she had once served on an Asari cruiser that patrolled the Athena nebula. It was there that she discovered a talent for cooking.

"Originally, the captain signed me on as her personal musician, but I felt that I should pull my weight around the ship. I'm a horrible engineer, but I didn't think I could screw up peeling potatoes. Eventually I got a knack for figuring the right mixtures of ingredients to suit a variety of tastes. So far that experience has not failed me on the Durendal."

"Was life hard on an Asari vessel? You were, after all, the only Quarian on board."

"As hard as life can be on any other ship crewed entirely by women. Still, the captain kept me safe."

"I can't imagine her superiors could have been happy with that."

"Oh, Asari Captains do not answer to an admiralty, strangely enough. They are more like members of nobility than military officers. A captain's word is law on an Asari cruiser, and _gospel_ on a dreadnought. My captain was free to crew the ship with whomever she wanted, opinions be damned."

"But eventually you left."

Lelia sighed. "Yes, I did. Politics in the Asari militia are a... nasty business. Eventually my captain was disgraced and removed from her command, and I was no longer welcome aboard. I was let go at a refuelling station, where Zev was working. We got along immediately, travelled together from place to place... but after a misadventure involving a turian ambassador's wife, we were dumped on the Citadel."

"There was a... dead Quarian woman when I rescued you from the Asari commandos. Who was she?"

"That was..." Lelia looked pained. "Yara'Mara. Zev and I had taken pity on her and let her tag along with us."

"I'm sorry I couldn't get there fast enough. I might have been able to save her..."

"Hm? Oh, no no no, you misunderstand... I couldn't stand the girl! She will _not_ be missed!"

"...I'm sorry, what?

"Well, I did not wish death on her, of course... but she had been mooching off both Zev and I for weeks, she constantly complained about her lot in life and how her parents had to force her to go on a pilgrimage, and when she lost all her money trying some Salarian's Quasar scheme she had the gall to demand more, said her House was honored throughout the Flotilla and it was her due and blah blah blah!"

"Okay, but still-

"-And then she had the nerve to point Tali out at her kidnappers! A Zorah! The gall of it just- Oh, If I could bring her back to life I would kill her again for that!"

"So, how about those statues..."

"House Zorah is one of the most honoured and venerated clans in the Flotilla - many heroes came from that bloodline and they all saved millions of lives! Were it not for them, there would be no fleet at all, and Quarians everywhere should be willing to lay down their lives for them! Stupid, insolent little upstart of..."

Lelia kept on mumbling incoherently, and Jensen started to wonder if all Quarian women had such short fuses. Eventually, she calmed down, and they continued the tour with the rest of the group.

They came across the Museum's curator, a jovial Matron on the edge of becoming a Matriarch. She was shocked by Manah's skin tone, and made a big fuss over it, begging Manah to go see a doctor immediately, Manah soothed her worries and asked her if she knew of any famous Asari artists heavily influenced by aliens.

"Well, there's a silly question!" she answered. "Of course there are... that is... well... Huh."

"What is it?" asked Manah, worried.

"Now that you ask... Goddess! Off the top of my head I can't exactly think of one! Just let me... Ah! Wait. Eudoxia Arris. A dryblood born on Palaven, raised by her father, brother and nephew. Very military family, but she had the soul of an artist. She became a sculptor after her obligatory tour of military service was done, and her pieces are worth quite a bit on the Turian market.

"Are there any of her works here?"

"Ah, no... Turian art doesn't seem to interest anyone besides the Turians... it's too... How do I put this politely?"

"Boring as all hell?" commented Jensen, recalling the time Garrus' sister had dragged him to a Turian Museum on the Citadel.

"Well, yes." agreed the curator.

"I heard you have a room dedicated to Human art?" asked Jensen. "That couldn't have been a popular decision."

"Oh, there were some doddering old Matriarchs guarded by scary women with more cleavage than armour that came along and whined about giving such a place of honour amongst the greats of the galaxy to a race so very young... Bah! I told them where to stick it. The humans are the most interesting thing to happen since the Geth uprising. Besides, on top of making a generous donation, Mister Dumier loaned us quite a few items from his personal collection. I couldn't very well refuse him."

"Dumier?"

"Chad Dumier, a business magnate from Earth - Europe, more precisely. He's also the leader of an organization called the WTO. Don't ask me what that means... but it sounded very important."

"_Very_ important." said Aya meaningfully.

"Two factors in my decision to exhibit his artwork on the top floor. If you'd like to see them, the human exhibit is right between the Turian and Salarian ones."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Boulton and Bourgeot, the two Standard Security Corporation employees tasked with guarding the most prized piece in Dumier's collection, yawned. Boulton, because he was stuck in the middle of one the most exciting cities in the galaxy and yet was bored to tears, and Bourgeot because he was simply tired. Otherwise, he was enjoying his assignment immensely. All around him was a portion of his country's history, not to mention his own childhood.<p>

"Bloody waste of good security, guarding this piece of french garbage..." complained Boulton. "Now, the queen's own Crown Jewels, there's something worth laying down your life for!"

"Bah! Most of the jewels are worthless, now! Any idiot with a pressure oven can make diamonds these days."

"Well, the gold's worth _something_, a hell of a lot more than_ pieces of bloody paper_, that's for sure."

"Bah! Uncultured barbarian."

"Cheese-eatin' frog."

"_Rosbif_-loving dog."

"Hope you choke on your fancy wine and die."

"And I will die happily, while you live a long life on a diet of lager, fish and chips."

"And I... Aw, bollocks, I could go with some chips right about now. Could use a pint too, now that I think about it."

"I saw a resto-bar down the street from here. Shall we go there after our shift?"

"Oh, most definitely."

"I think they sell that disgusting _Québécois _dish with the fries and the sauce and the _crottes_ of cheese. Pouah!"

"Oh, shit!"

"I know, it's revolt-"

"No, no, over at the entrance! Look!"

Coming in was a group of six: two quarians (one of them a child), three humans, and... the strangest and most beautiful Asari girl Bourgeot had ever seen in his life. She was petite, slender yet curvaceous, and had the strangest most exotic eyes...

"Fwaaaarh! Check out that blonde bombshell with the black lace around those legs! Thank god for those armored codpieces or I'd be in a world of embarrassment, I would!"

"Hm? Oh, I suppose she looks good, if you like that sort of thing... Bof, too tall, and too _pouffe _with that short skirt. I prefer the Asari with the pale skin and the short cloak... More demure, more elegant."

"Oh, come on, mate! She looks barely old enough to drink... And I think she's sick. The blonde? She's _fit._ In every sense of ther term!"

"Wait, the man in the leather coat... do you recognize him?"

"You lookin' at the men? Heh, I always..." The breton's mocking died in his throat as he did a double-take, and recognized the man. "Well, bugger me silly! It's Adam bloody Jensen! Think we should report him?"

The frenchmen shook his head. "For what? He's not touching anything. Besides, who would believe us?"

The group scattered, viewing the pieces, although it seemed the blonde woman looked thoroughly disappointed. Eventually, the Asari took notice of the main display, and the young frenchman's heart leapt a little, as she approached. He was a bit put out when Jensen followed her, though.

"Excuse me," said the Asari, bowing her head slightly. "My name is Manah T'soni, and..."

"Pieter Bourgeot!" blurted the rent-a-cop. "Euh... pleased to meet you!"

"Oh, yes, as am I... I was wondering about what the piece behind you? What is it? It looks... familiar."

_Mon dieu, quelle jolie voix_, the frenchmen thought.

"Hoo boy, here we go..." grumbled Boulton. He had heard the whole thing from Pieter before, and he wasn't keen on hearing it again.

"Why, it's the 43 pages of _Le Petit Prince__, _written and drawn by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry." He waved at the display, as if presenting it. Suspended in a large glass case were 43 sheets of old paper, each sandwiched between two panes of transparent plastic. They all spun slowly in a 4 by 11 configuration, suspended by wires. "It is the only known pre-collapse copy known to exist, though sadly the cover was lost a long time ago. It is owned by the Dumier estate, and was loaned by them to the Nos Astra Galleria in the spirit of cultural exchange."

"I'm a little surprised," said Jensen. "I figured a rich frenchman would put paintings on display, or sculptures, but all I see around here are covers of comics like _Tin __Tin, _or _the Smurfs._"

"Mr. Dumier is an admitted fanatic of la Bande-Dessinée, and prefers a good picture book to high art. And BDs not just from France, but from Belgium and other parts of Europe as well. You have art from nearly all the greats here: Peyo, Hergé, Dupa, Franquin, Moebius, Morvan, Jimenez... All from Dumier's private collection. There are even BDs written by Jodorowsky, to keep things interesting."

"Too bad you can't read any of it."

"You can: there are a few holographic podiums around the gallery, just activate it, point at a cover or a poster, and the VI will display a holographic book for you to read. If you are interested in a physical copy, there is a dispenser by the entrance that will fabricate one for you. Every credit will go towards a charity to help War Orphans in the Phillipines."

"Pff! Yeah, gonna go straight to Dumier's pockets, more like..." muttered Boulton cynically.

"I'm... confused," said Manah. "How do you _read_ visual arts? Is this some sort of human expression?"

Boulton laughed, and Jensen looked at Manah, a bit confused.

"You don't know about comic books?" he asked.

Manah shook her head.

"No Asari does." said Boulton. "And they look at us funny when we try to explain."

Bourgeot gave the Asari a rundown of the concept, and unlike most Asari that seemed disgusted at his very, very thorough knowledge of franco-belgian comics, this Manah seemed eager to learn. Then, something seemed to dawn on her.

"Oh! No! No no no no...!"

"What is it? Did I say something wrong, mademoiselle?"

"I remember where I saw those pictures before! The boy, with the scarf! He was drawn on a book Noel gave me!"

"Wait, you can't mean... You were given an intact copy of the book?! Did it have the original art on the cover? Like the ones you see here?"

"The style is the same, yes..."

Bourgeot got visibly excited, and his eyes shone. "Was it real? Was it made of paper and not plastic? Was did it smell like?"

"Oi!' interjected Boulton. "What are you getting so worked up over? It's just an old, bloody book!"

"It is most certainly NOT just any old book! It's precious to France!" he pointed at the display. "Those damaged pages? They are worth millions! A undamaged copy of the book would be worth billions! Billions! Tell me, mademoiselle! Do you still have it?!"

"N-no..." said Manah, a little scared and taken aback by the man's intensity "My minders... they burned it and threw it into the trash... I'm sorry..."

"Oh... oh non!... A precious piece of our history? Burned to ashes in... in a garbage can?..." Bourgeot's shoulders slumped.

"H-Hey... It was probably just a copy of the real deal." Jensen tried to soothe the man's conscience. "Don't beat yourself up over it."

"Ah... you're, you're probably right. I... probably worked myself up for nothing." The guard took a deep breath. "Oh, I apologize, I must seem so unprofessional right now. Do... do you have any other questions for me?"

"Are you absolutely sure Asari don't have comics?" asked Jensen, apparently still trying to process that strange fact. Bourgeot and Boulton had a hard time believing it themselves.

"As far as we can tell," said Boulton. "It's not just Asari, either. Turians, Salarians, Hanar... none of them had even heard of the concept."

"That's... strange. I mean, I know for a fact that Asari have illustrated storybooks... you would think comics would be the next logical leap."

"You would think so, but..." Bourgeot tapped his chin. "Maybe the idea never occurred to the aliens. It's like Carriers. Turians have fighters, and they have capital ships, but they never thought to have a ship dedicated to carrying fighters. We did."

"Or," supplied Boulton. "It did occur to them but it never quite caught on."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah decided to leave Jensen's side for a bit to chat with Lelia and Fyodor, and Ryan was busy browsing the dispenser. Aya, for her part, sat upon a bench, seemingly bored and a little bit peeved. Jensen approached her, wondering why she wasn't enjoying herself.<p>

"Comics." she said, her distaste apparnet. "Bloody comics. One of the most important galleries of fine arts in Asari Space and one of the richest human beings packs one of its rooms full of _comics_. I don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Jensen sat down next to her. "I take it you're not a fan."

"No, I'm not. It's so..." she pursed her lips, as if tasting something sour. "It's common art, for common people. It's wish fulfillment that more often than not appeals to base lusts."

"I dunno, I think there's a certain universal appeal to most of these. And besides, can't rich people enjoy comics?"

"Dumier belongs in the upper crusts of Terran society. He really should hold himself to a higher standard. All men of means and power should, otherwise the common people will lose respect for them."

"Elitism, Brea? I thought people in your line of work were supposed to be more socially flexible."

"I am... flexible, yes. The same way an excellent actor can assume a role. That doesn't mean I have to like it when I have to step into the muck with the rest of the working class. I simply don't belong there. Places like the _Septième Ciel_, or the Galleria, are where I am most at ease..." she sighed in mock weariness. "And now the Shadow Broker has sentenced me to live aboard a pile of junk, amongst a gang of brutish soldiers and a band of vagrants."

"Yes. Clearly, you're in hell." said Jensen, deadpan. "Look, they're not so bad once you get to know them. Maybe you should try socializing with them? Change their minds about you?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible."

"Don't be such a snob..."

"The entire ship knows what I am and have already made their minds up about me. Corporal Proudfoot and Sergeant Flemming are under the impression I'm little more than a programmable sexbot, Sergeant Whitaker and Captain Grey advised Hein that I should be put down as I was a 'clear and present threat to the ship' on account of my superior abilities. And the lovely Tali'Zorah threatened to Incinerate me at the first sign of betrayal."

Again, Jensen reminded himself to speak to Zorah about this. The Quarians had a chip on their shoulder when it came to synthetic life due to the Geth uprising, and so did humans, thanks to the Coalition...

"T'soni seems to like you."

"T'soni won't stop staring at my chest."

"Err... Lelia and Zev seem friendly enough."

"Lelia and I had a lovely conversation full of veiled threats and barbs. Zev keeps leering at me and making innuendos."

"What about Dr. Ross, or Veetor?"

"They both see me as a scientific curiosity, though Dr. Ross is more polite about it. Veetor keeps scanning me with his Omni-Tool when he thinks I'm not looking... the jittery little _creep_."

"Okay then... Fyodor?"

Aya smiled and casually handed Adam a piece of folded paper she kept in her suit-jacket's inner pocket. Jensen opened it, and the smell of flash-dried watercolour and ink, mingled with the faint scent of Aya's perfume and perspiration hit his sensitive nostrils.

It was a picture of Aya depicted as an angel, with her eyes covered with a black blindfold, clad in (what seemed to be) latex hotpants. Two bands of the same material hugged her waist and her chest tightly, and a black choker covered her neck. All of these were connected by another wide band of latex that went from crotch to choker, set in place by metal buckles. Her wings were a gleaming midnight black, but the feathers progressively turned blue at the outer tips. Her manacled hands hovered by her hips, connected to her crotch by two heavy silver chains. Her skin seemed to be glowing a bit, illuminated by a golden light. At first, Jensen thought he was holding the drawing upside down, but Fyodor's signature could be read properly on the lower right corner of the drawing.

"It's a beautiful drawing." said Adam. "I don't see how-"

"-Everyone objectifies me, even the Quarian boy."

Jensen eyed her from head to toe. "I didn't think that would bother you, seeing as you seem to embrace the whole 'drop dead gorgeous femme fatale' shtick."

"Oh, absolutely... but it is one thing to make myself attractive, to lure men and women in with the promise of sex to get what I want out of them. It's another thing entirely when the power in that relationship dissolves once someone finds an excuse to treat me as anything else but a person. Alien, robot, clone, _artificial person_... Such small, tiny labels, and yet they have the power to completely rob someone of the power of their identity. Thanks to Dr. Ross' big mouth, and Hein's, my secret is out, and the veneer of humanity that let me move about unmolested and free is gone."

"Don't be so melodramatic. You're alive, unburnt and breathing air."

"Yes, I'm alive... because of you." Aya's expression softened, and Jensen couldn't tell if she seemed genuinely moved or if she was trying to manipulate him. "Are you planning accepting Hein's offer to go with him on his mad quest in exchange for his aid?"

"I'm still thinking about it."

"Then I urge you... to refuse."

"Why?"

"Hein is not a man, he is a spider. He spins and weaves a complex web of trickery and lies hidden under a veneer of insanity, and he will wrap it around you until you can no longer escape his grasp. Stay away from him, and your life will become far simpler."

"I didn't know you cared, Brea."

"Don't get any ideas. My... employer seems quite interested in you. Who knows? If I can get you out of Hein's clutches, he just might assign me to keep an eye on you..."

"Right. Well, I'm sorry to say, but it looks like I'm going to need Hein's help to get to the bottom of this."

"You don't need Hein. My employer is more than willing to aid you."

Jensen snorted. "For a price."

"Everything has a price. You don't think Hein is going to help you out of pure altruism or a sense of Justice, do you? He's wants something from you. At least with me - I mean, us... we won't hide the price tag."

"Sorry Brea, but I think you're a little out of my price range."

"I'm sure we can work something out."

"I'll think about it." Jensen got up to leave, eager to check out the other exhibits. He handed Brea the drawing, but she refused it.

"...Keep it." she said, smiling as she casually leaned back into the bench.

"What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Whatever you want to, Jensen. Whatever you want."

And with that, Jensen simply left the drawing by her side, and left. The gesture would confuse Aya for a very long time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah leafed through the edition of Le Petit Prince that Fyodor had desperately wanted. It was the 2145 edition, illustrated by an artist that went by the name of Zinaida Amano. He had been so insistent on getting it, Manah was curious as to why he seemed to insist he look at it, and she thought that it might have to do with the fact that Mrs. Amano's style looked a lot like Fyodor's. Manah had to admit, she preferred Amano's work to the original author's illustrations... though they did have a simple charm of their own. It was not long before Fyodor pulled her attention away from the storybook, and handed her his latest piece.<p>

"I... I like it." declared T'soni after she inspected the framed drawing. Manah was amazed at how quickly Fyodor worked, integrating the classical analog methods with the versatility of an Omni-Tool. He had inked and water coloured his sketch in less than thirty minutes, dried it in seconds and had built a custom frame for it out of light alloys thanks to his Omni-Tool's fabricator at Manah's urging. Talking to Fyodor, much to Manah's chagrin, was a futile endeavour. Still, he could understand what she meant when she mimed it.

It was the drawing of a nude, horned young human woman. Her shoulder length hair the colour of dark blood, which matched her eyes. Curving black tattoos - lines of text written in a undecipherable alphabet - were tattooed all across her milky skin. Six shadowy hands, born from the pitch black background, caressed her body suggestively, and yet preserved her modesty. The ribbed horns were curved over her ears, their pointy tips hovering over her cheeks.

The tattoos got her attention, particularly the wide circle around her navel. She had seen that script, long ago... yes, she remembered feeling the cold metal of the operating table against her bare back, and remembered the gleaming metal of the mechanical arm that carved symbols onto her skin with a needle... and the cold stares of Justicars looking on dispassionately from above in the surgical theatre.

Manah shook her head. A pointless gesture: It was not as if it would somehow jostle the frightening memory from her brain, though she wished desperately for it to be that simple. She forced herself to smile, not wanting to worry the boy, who was looking at her expectantly.

"Thank you, Fyodor... Is it alright if I keep it? I'll hang it on my wall when we get back on the ship, okay?" She handed him the storybook, and Fyodor immediately put his Omni-Tool away to start leafing through the pages.

"I see the boy's still drawing." said Jensen as he approached, his conversation with the Brea woman done. Manah's heart leapt a little, just a little, and she put the memory of the Justicars' tampering of her body away completely.

"Does he... ever stop?" asked Jensen.

"Not as far as I can tell. Lelia said that we'd need more storage room from all the sheets of paper he leaves haphazardly around... Though I suspect that she was saying that in jest. Personally, I think we should get him a tablet. He could do wonders with a digital image processing program."

"Maybe we could drop by an electronics store." suggested Jensen. "I haven't spent much of Hein's stipend, anyways."

"Oh!" Manah beamed. "Could we? I do so look forward to showing Fyodor how to use it!"

"You're an artist, too?"

"Well, yes, actually. Before I was... detained... I studied the crafts and histories of visual and three dimensional arts, both analogue and digital. I even taught an art class for schoolchildren, once upon a time." Manah smiled, fondly. "It was a brief assignment, but it stoked a desire to become a teacher one day..."

"Well, I'm sure Fyodor would like having you as a teacher."

Manah laughed. "I think it's more likely he'll be showing me how to draw! Although... maybe we should get a few anatomy books for him. And maybe a book on proper cropping, framing, and illustration? And maybe-"

"Err, T'soni?"

"Oh! Did you want to see Fyodor's latest?"

"Well I... oh, sure, why not?"

Manah turned the drawing around and held it up, and Jensen eyed the drawing, a bit perplexed. "Is that... is that supposed to be you?"

Manah's eyes widened. "Is it?" She turned the frame around and hugged it, embarrassed. "I-I wouldn't know. I don't really know what I look like. A-Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure it's you with hair and... wait, you don't know what you look like?"

"Justicars don't allow... people like me to watch themselves in the mirror... they said that vanity was a sin. I might have caught glimpses of myself in glass windows and polished surfaces, here and there, but..."

Jensen sighed. "The more I hear about those Justicars, the more I want to have a polite word with them. Let's not dwell on them."

"Very well... I don't really want to- Oh..." Manah's stomach growled, compounding her embarrassment. "Ooooh..."

"Heh. Hungry?"

"Yes. I think I perhaps I should take Brea's offer once we leave... will we be done here soon? Or is there another exhibit you'd like to see?"

"Well, I think I've had enough culture for one day. Can't speak for the others, though." Jensen thought about what to do next for a moment. "Hein wanted me to put my limbs to the test in the Arena. I think I might go there after all."

"Shall I come with you, then?"

"You sure? It's a whole bunch of chest pounding and simulated violence."

Manah couldn't quite hide her distaste. "Haven't we all had enough of that, recently?"

"...Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, I'd like to get a feel for what Hein did to my limbs... they feel off."

"...I see. Well, shall we go now, then?"

Jensen sensed her reluctance: "You know, if you're really hungry, and if you really want to go with Brea, you can just go right now."

Manah gave the suggestion some thought: Aya was such a beautiful creature, so tall, so statuesque, so imperious... and so very much like her mother. Watching her made Manah flush with both affection and fear. It was a most intriguing state of being, one that she wanted to last. And there was Jensen, too. Though she was loathe to admit it, the idea of watching him inflict violence upon others made her mouth curl up in the slightest of smiles, and made her skin tingle with excitement. She suppressed the smile, not wanting to give in to her base desires, not wanting for Jensen to think ill of her. On the other hand, she didn't want to be away from him too long, but she didn't want to follow him to a place of barbarism.

"You could come with us," suggested Manah, with a smoothness to her voice that surprised even her.

Jensen mulled over the decision a bit. He could either join two lovely young women for dinner, or join the Deep Eyes in some combat sims. Either live a little, or do tricks for a madman.

A tough decision, truly.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Bah! Once again, my plans are foiled by vaginas," said Hein bitterly as he closed his Omni-Tool. He was sitting next to Ross and Verner at one of the Arena lobby's many food stands. Aki stopped eating her noodles in disgust, while Conrad, in disappointment.<p>

"I am not even gonna ask how that happened before." said Ross.

"Aw, Jensen's not coming?" Verner pouted. "I was looking forward to seeing him play."

Hein shook his head. "So did I. It seems Mr. Jensen prefers the company of two extremely attractive women over some hair-raising, adrenaline pumping action-"

"Can't imagine why." Aki commented sardonically.

"- and now He's already at the _Septième Ciel _with Brea and T'soni, eating fancy-shmancy food."

"He's eating with who?" asked Verner

Feeling that a picture was worth a thousand words, words that he wasn't in the mood to speak, Hein simply conjured up holos of the two women on his Omni-Tool and 'threw' it at Verner, an action that uploaded the images to Verner's own Omni-Tool.

"Oh. Oh my." muttered Verner. Then, his expression turned pensive, then he gasped. "Wait, is that... Is that Korean pop star Mi-Young Whyte?" Verner became giddy, like a kid on a caffeine and sugar high. "Oh my god, Oh my god, this is so awesome! Jensen is going on a date with Mi-Young! This is totally better than my fanfic, in which I paired him with-"

"Conrad... Mi-Young died 18 years ago." reminded Aki.

"Ah, that's what they SAY, but rumour had it that she faked her own death to escape the constant pressures of fame. And now she's back! She's back and she's going out with my hero! This is the best day ever! I have to go see them and take their picture and ask for autographs and mount the picture in my shrine and-"

Aki looked at Brea's picture and mentally compared her with Mi-Young. Just as Verner was about to leave, she caught him by the sleeve and sat him back down. "Well, Conrad, I will admit there's an uncanny resemblance, with the jawline and the cheekbones, but everything else is different. For one thing, Mi-Young was... how tall was she again?"

"One meter and fifty-seven centimetres and one half!" Conrad knew Mi-Young's measurements by heart.

"Well, Brea is one meter eighty-three, and she's got a bigger bust."

"Oh. Well... Maybe this Brea is Mi-Young's long lost daughter?"

"Brea would have to be around eighteen to be Mi-Young's daughter, since the media never caught a pregnancy while she was in the spotlight. Brea looks like she's in her mid to late twenties. Possibly mid-thirties, taking modern cosmetics into account."

"Brea is 17." said Hein casually.

Aki's eye's widened. She knew girls filled out quicker than others, but... "Oh. Oh wow. I mean... really?"

"Yeah, really."

"Wait, how do you even know?"

Hein smiled. "A little bird told me."

_**_~[h+]~_**_

* * *

><p>Neil and Veetor, carrying their winnings from the arcade, approached Garrus and Jane, who were sitting at the juice bar, both drinking something that glowed in the dark.<p>

"Hey folks, what did I miss?" asked Neil cheerfully.

"Garrus and I tied for top score and now he wants to get into my pants."

"Nooooo... I said that we should have a tie-breaker. Pit your flexibility against my reach... Wait, that came out wrong."

Jane gave him a brief, but playful look. "Uh-huh. So Neil, what's with all the crap?"

"Oh," Neil set down the handbags. "Veetor and I just totally killed the claw game."

"The one you could never get the hang of?"

"That's the one! Tell them how we did it, Veetor!"

"Oh, the trick to the game is getting the magnet to line up with one of the spinning ball's circular indentations and have it clamp onto it perfectly." explained Veetor. "I needed to do some calculations in my head, but once you got the timing right..."

"...The prizes kept rolling in. They kicked us out, but they couldn't prove that we cheated, so we got to keep all our winnings."

Jane rolled her eyes. Boys, she thought. "And now you got a mountain of useless plush toys."

"Not just plush toys! We got a few smart-phones, and some vids, and a pair of electronic plastic dinosaurs, too! They move and roar like the real deal! Speaking of prizes. I hear the Arenas have got some juicy prizes..."

"We got digital currency we can't spend anywhere else, more like." said Jane.

"Well, the really, REALLY good prizes, you need to pay with platinum coins, and those are, predictably, hard to come by. I was hoping Jensen would show up so that we could have a Nightmare match with full penalties and get enough for an Armax MR-63... but he's a no-show."

"So, Jensen ain't coming?" asked Jane, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious wearing one of those skin tight suits with holo-emitters mounted all over. The Arena didn't use actual weapons or armour, everything was constructed and simulated by the machines. It was meant to prevent harm, or unfair advantages, but Jane thought maybe the blasted holographic gear didn't need to be vacuum sealed against her skin like that. Then again, the place was mostly run by Asari, and Asari loved to show off.

"Nope." answered the Turian. ""I just sent him a text message. He told me he's over at some fancy restaurant with Brea and T'soni."

Neil whistled. "Damn. Jensen works fast."

"Meh, it's for the best." said Jane. "I wasn't keen on fighting alongside Jensen, anyways."

Garrus eyed Jane curiously, unsure how to take that. "Why not?"

"Don't get me wrong, Jensen's a blessing in a fight, but if he can just pull some Deus Ex Machina bullshit out of his ass again, what's the point of playing?"

Garrus hated to admit, but Jane had a point. Right now, Jensen was a great big I Win button just waiting to be pressed. Once his little project was finished, he would be on more equal footing with his partner.

Still, he needed to practice some new manoeuvres, which was why he had traded his typical simulated heavy Partisan armor in favour of a Havoc. Being able to jump from cover to cover, from vantage point to vantage point was proving to be more advantageous than he imagined. If only C-Sec Requisitions could have provided him with one, maybe his attempt at rescuing Zorah would have gone better.

"So, how about that tie-breaker, then? You and me, max difficulty and every penalty on."

"You're on, kittybird. Let's earn some points."

_**_~[h+]~_**_

* * *

><p><em><em>"You certain he's here?"<em>_

__"We tracked his purchases to this place. Dumb Fucker didn't even use platinum."__

__"Don't underestimate him. There's no way he'd be that stupid. He's making a statement, daring us to attack him somewhere public. Have the tech heads black the security out, and secure all the entrances... we're going in."__

__"Good. It's time for the fucker to pay for what he's done."__

_**_~[h+]~_**_

* * *

><p>After a futile attempt at schooling the Arena's programmers on proper battlefield tactics ("No, a cardboard box is concealment, not cover!"), as well as contesting his score, which lagged behind by two thousand compared to to both Jane and Garrus ("I don't care about combo multipliers, I got more kills than any of them!"), Gray decided to calm himself down by spending going to the Arena's shop and some of his Gold points on some new holographic gear.<p>

The standard Alliance Rifleman loadout was decent, performance wise, but the Avenger assault rifle's curved top kept throwing off his aim, so he replaced that with the more customizable and much more powerful Daewoo K6. Then he thought that the Onyx helmet's AR interface was rubbish, and purchased a SSC Recon Tactical model 4. Then he thought he could do with better protection, better shields, better grenades, and before he knew it he had run out of Gold points purchasing the assault rifle and that had paid over ten thousand credits for fake gear he would never use in real life.

"Oh, you magnificent bastards." he muttered.

Still, he was now much happier with his loadout, and decided it was time to challenge Garrus to another match. As he held the holographic gun frame in his hand, it occurred to Grey that while the gun switching system was unrealistic, there was a real tactical benefit in a weapon that could transform from a shotgun to a sniper rifle in only half a second. Hein had once told him that DARPA had been working on such a weapon a decade ago, but they hadn't quite figured out how to get the device to work with a mass effect based kinetic accelerator, and the prototype relied on gunpowder rounds. Switching weapons meant switching manually switching between ammo types, which defeated the purpose. Hein had reassured him that he has still working on it, but that was months ago.

Grey's thoughts were interrupted when he heard a loud bang, and screaming and that was when all hell broke loose.

Armed men burst in through every entrance, shooting in the air and firing air-burst concussion rounds at any rent-a-cop they could find. With no real weapons or armour, and his sidearm locked away in a security locker, Grey did the smart thing: he ran and hid, and studied the attackers.

The combatants were definitely well trained professionals, and well equipped. They all wore Stalker helmets, the Alliance knock-off of the Nightmare helmet worn by US marines, but the rest of their body armours were personalized to their individual tastes. As far as Grey could tell, they were maybe fifty of them, rounding up any civilians they could find to use as hostages. Grey attempted to call the cops, but only got static in response.

_"Signal Jammers."_ he thought._ 'Goddammit. The cops aren't coming. It looks like it's up to me, now. First things first, I need a weapon, then link up with my men."_

Despite his conditioning, Grey couldn't keep Aki from his thoughts, and he hoped that she was going to be okay.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

><p>The Mercenary Leader and fifty other of his men burst into the bleachers. When a group of fifty armed men led by a man in power armour failed to get the intended reaction from the crowd, he decided to get their attention while his men secured the entrances.<p>

_**"LADIES AAAAAND GENTLEMEN!"**_ he shouted, his helmet amplifying his voice. _**"TONIGHT'S ENTERTAINMENT IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY RANDOM ACTS OF (ACTUAL) VIOLENCE."**_

He fired a grenade from the underslung launcher mounted on his LMG, and it exploded high above, destroying a few overhead lights. The sparks showered some of the crowd, but that too, failed to get the appropriate response. Apparently to them, this was all part of the show.

He leapt into the octagon, and once the computer detected the intruder, it brought the action to a complete stop. The current players, a bunch of teenagers that had never seen any real violence in their lives, whined and mewled at him like the bunch of spoiled rich twits that they were. He had no respect for them, and he didn't hesitate to shoot out their kneecaps with his heavy pistol. They went down screaming like little girls, bleeding real blood on the ground.

The crowd finally got the hint, and there was screaming, and pushing, and shoving, and trampling, and all the good stuff He lived for.

_**"Man, I love show business." **_He removed his helmet, and spoke into a headset. _**"Now that I have your attention, allow me to introduce myself. My name... is Paxton Toombs. And I. Want. Revenge - Not against you! You're all just collateral in a feud that has... CONSUMED me for the past year. But I'm generous. I will let you go. I will let you all go. But first, there is a man sitting amongst you who has WRONGED me, who has DESTROYED all that I have built, and I want him to come to me, and KNEEL at my feet, so that I can put a bullet in his GODDAMNED BRAIN. And if he doesn't show up within thirty minutes, I will start shooting hostages."**_

The crowd panicked some more, but the mercenaries herded them by hiring concussive shots and grenades into them.

**"DO YOU HEAR ME?! COME OUT, AND FACE ME, OR HAVE THE BLOOD OF INNOCENTS ON YOUR HANDS. DO YOUR HEAR ME?!"**

Toombs fired his LMG into the air, frothing at the mouth.

**"DO YOU HEAR ME, JAKE ARMITAAAAAAAAAGE?!"**

_**_~[h+]~_**_

* * *

><p><em><strong><em>CODEX ENTRY: PEOPLE: HUMANS: BUSINESS: CHAD DUMIER<em>**_

_Chad Dumier (named after his great grandfather, the actual founder of the WTO), One of the richest and most powerful men on Earth and current Chairman of the World Trade Organization, is a human of Algerian and French descent, and is currently the one person to which the rising economic success of Earth is often attributed. A shrewd investor, he holds some stock in nearly every major human corporation that has WTO membership, and is a majority shareholder of the Standard Security Corporation, Tokugawa Industries, __Éditions Dupuis, and others._

_With degrees in philosophy and sciences both political and sociological, Dumier is often present in many debates of hot button issues (such as the ethics of gene modification and the rise of human Biotics) to play 'devil's advocate'. He is almost always taking the opposing stance against Luminon Lyn May Chen, who often criticizes him for 'playing favorites' with Europa Genomics, a bio-modification form believed to be dabbling in human augmentation._

_Though a patron of the fine arts, Dumier is also an avid fan of Franco-Belgian comics, and has dedicated a significant portion of his fortune to the revival of the art by advertising the works of his favorite comic book creators, as well as funding the creation of hundreds of new titles and the restoration of pre-collapse ones. This has led to a renaissance of the comics industry in America._

* * *

><p><em><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: ORGANIZATIONS: EARTH: BUSINESS: WTO<strong>__

__The World Trade Organization, or WTO, is a Terran international organization responsible for re-establishing trade between the fractured nations of Earth after the Collapse. It originally came into being on the 1st January of 1995, and was the successor to the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade (GATT), which was created in 1947, and continued to operate for almost five decades as a de facto international organization. It has indirectly encouraged the creation of the major supranational unions, and currently supervises and liberalizes trade between them. Their stated goal to ensure global prosperity and peace, where everyone has access to goods that they need.__

__The WTO is also known for coordinating rebuilding efforts around the globe by working in tandem with local governments, encouraging investments in major Terraforming research, as well as the construction of Arcologies and Habitats to reduce the environmental impact of large populations. This know-how and experience has allowed it to extend its influence to off-world colonies, as the Alliance often outsources to the WTO to establish and manage flourishing communities in hostile worlds.__

__The re-establishment of human civilization gave the WTO the opportunity to become a major global power, equalling the Order Church in influence and the Templars in military strength thanks to the Standard Security Corporation and several other PMCs such as, Screaming Wolf Tactical Solutions, Manticore, and World Marshall. Its influence over colonial trade has allowed it to become a growing galactic power. The WTO's global currency, the Nuyen, is currently worth 0,54 Standard Galactic credits, beating both the Turian Siliqua (worth 0.36 credits) and the Salarian Lakh. (worth 0.49 credits), and slowly catching up to the Asari Drachma (worth 0.67 credits). __

__Because of its growing influence beyond earth, the WTO is considering changing its name to the Terran Trade Authority.__

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: MAN THAT WAS BORING, AM I RITE? Just one more chapter until we're off to Noveria. But first let's cleanse our palates of all that icky world building and exposition with some sneaky violence.<strong>_

_**So yeah, instead of getting the crew to party like animals, I nerd out over Shadowrun, Franco-Belgian comics, set up a culture war, and dress Aya up in black lace. Why? Because I loooooove black lace.**_

_**Brea's make-up is inspired by Korean pop singer Son Ga-In. Or more precisely, the make-up she wore on her Bloom video... although I'm using blue here instead of red. Red just isn't Brea's color, although I'm certain she'd look fantastic in it. Manah, however, loves red a great deal.**_

_**The fact that Aya's taste in makeup matches that of an actual Korean pop starlet is no coincidence, of course.**_

_**Again, apologies to biology experts if I got the whole mitochondria thing wrong. Wikipedia doesn't always give a whole picture when it comes to science. As always, you're welcome to correct me if I'm wrong, folks.**_

_**Special thanks to Setokaiva and Vandenbz for the spellchecking. Removed the blocks of Italized text.**_


	31. Chapter 28: Illium part 3

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 28: Illium part 3

or

Battle of the Titans

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Put it in your mouth."<p>

"But i-it's so gooey... I'm afraid I'll make a mess!"

"Open. Your. Mouth."

"Oooh... alright..."

Manah opened wide, and closed her mouth around the flaky piece of pastry, feeling the cold metal slipping on her lips as Brea pulled the fork away. Manah closed her eyes, enjoying the textures of puff pasty, cake, custard cream, and glazed icing. The taste of vanilla and sugar burst into her mouth, and the sauce wrapped itself around her tongue, bathing it in the flavours of chocolate and rum. It was almost too much to handle at once: Manah could barely recall when she had been given such a tasty treat, as the Justicars only fed her vitamin-enriched gruel, protein blocks, and water.

Manah shuddered a bit, and let out a long, delightful moan.

"Er... you might wanna tone it down a bit?" said Adam, a bit embarrassed. "People are starting to stare."

"But itch shoooooo good!" replied Manah, her mouth still full. A bit of chocolate sauce dripped down her chin as she chewed and swallowed the piece of chocolate mille-feuille cake, and wiped it away with her index finger, then slowly sucked and licked the mess away from her digit, smacking her lips.

Jensen had never told this to anyone, but he had a thing for watching beautiful women eat, and both Manah and Brea ate beautifully. The Turian sitting at the nearby table seemed to agree, and he excused himself.

"I-I'll be in the washroom..." he said, embarrassed.

"But you just went!" whined his Asari girlfriend.

The Septième Ciel's restaurant was a bit too luxurious for Jensen's tastes, even if it was thankfully nowhere near as gaudy as _Hwang's_. And being a four star establishment, the prices were exorbitant: the cheapest thing he could find was a dish consisting of a pan-seared salmon fillet covered in passion fruit gel and a side of steamed vegetables at about 2500 credits. Brea, on the other hand, didn't hold back, ordering a 3-course meal that started with oysters, followed by a filet mignon with a minced snail flesh salad, and ending with a dessert of french vanilla ice cream. Manah... couldn't quite make up her mind, intimidated by the prices and the colorful images of the items in the menu. Brea had picked for her various items from the dessert menu: a _baba au rhum, _a sweet_ crêpe _filled with pears poached in cognac_, _a small flan cake drizzled with a vodka and raspberry coulis, and a mille-feuille cake (an invention of the chef). Jensen noted that all of these had some alcohol in it.

The three of them made light conversation over apéritifs, with Manah more than happy to answer Brea's questions concerning Prothean art, architecture, and history. Adam didn't quite have the heart to correct her on the cause of the schism that lead to the end of the 68th era, or the true creator of the Crystal Arch of Aumann. It would be a conversation for a another time and place, perhaps when he had a better idea of what the hell the 68th era or the Arch actually was.

Manah had three glasses of Vermouth, but strangely enough, didn't even get drunk.

Once the food was served, Manah was utterly paralyzed by the sight of such colorful food, and hesitated to even eat. "It's so well made! I'd hate to ruin such finely made food!" she said. Brea was having none of it, cut a piece of the mille-feuille cake, and made quite a suggestive show of having Manah eat it... forcing Jensen to focus all of his attention on eating his meal (which was, he decided, worth the price). Despite his best attempts, Brea's teasing and Manah's moaning kept getting his attention.

"I think Manah can feed herself, no?" said Adam, a bit annoyed, and Manah, realizing that she could stuff herself at her own rapid pace, did so with gusto. As Manah ate more and more of the desserts, she began to get even more inebriated, as if the aperitifs from earlier had finally kicked in... and the more she enjoyed herself, there seemed to be something off with the air. Jensen looked around him, and many of the other guests seemed... happier somehow. Couples where whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears, some were imitating Aya, teasingly feeding food to their companions.

"As I thought." said Brea, snapping Jensen away from his thoughts. "I think Manah has an interesting case of _zahari._"

"_Zahari_? Isn't that some kind of Asari diabetes?" asked Jensen.

"It's the best analogue the Asari have to the disease, yes, although the difficulties aren't quite the same. An Asari suffering from zahari, once their blood sugar level gets too high, have a significantly reduced metabolism. At critical levels this can result in a coma, or death."

Jensen immediately took Manah's desserts away from her, much to her (drunken) chagrin.

"Aw..." she whined, like a puppy.

"It's for your own good." Jensen told her.

Brea laughed, "Don't worry. Since T'soni's metabolism is hyperactive, it just means she gets downgraded to normal... which means she burns alcohol at a normal rate, now."

"Yeah well, you won't mind if I stop her from killing herself with sweets. You wanted her drunk enough to talk about the Justicars? Make it brief: you won't get another chance."

"Very well. T'soni?"

Manah hiccuped. "Hm?"

"What exactly is a... what did you call it, a Gesh?"

"The Geis?"

"That's what I said."

"No, you said it wrong..."

"Well, whatever. What is it exactly? Does it have something to do with the glowing marks on your face?"

"I don't... I don't know what it is exactly. It's... something they put in my skull, an imp—*hic*— implant, I think, connected to derp... derm..."

"Dermal?" supplied Jensen.

"Dermal! Yes... Dermal... implants to warn other Justicars that I'm thinking nasty little naughty thoughts, or doing something that I shouldn't."

"Such as?" asked Brea.

Manah did her best to recite the many _geas _that she had been programmed with, a difficult task considering her inebriated state, but she gave a fairly comprehensive list:

You shall not raise a hand against a Justicar.

You shall not disobey a Justicar.

You shall not ask for food, save from a Justicar.

You shall not ask for water, save from a Justicar.

You shall not ask for refuge, save from a Justicar.

You shall not ask for clothes, save from a Justicar.

Should a Justicar ask you to kill, you will do so.

Should a Justicar ask you to sacrifice yourself for her sake, you will do so.

Speak not of the secrets.

Draw not of the secrets.

Write not of the secrets.

Sculpt not the secrets.

Sing not the secrets.

Call not the secret name.

"I have it pretty bad, but some of the other girls have even more carved into their brains."

"What happens when you try to disobey those rules?" asked Brea.

"...it hurts. But if I stay obedient, the implant has some advantages: I don't need to sleep as much as everyone else, and my mind is always alert—*hic*— well, most of the time."

"What are those 'secrets', exactly?" asked Jensen.

"The Geis itself, for one, and anything to do with the Justicar Order."

"And the secret name?"

"Hmmmmm... nope! No idea what that is. I assume other Ardats are told, though."

"You called yourself an Ardat Samyaza, earlier." asked Brea. "I've heard of Ardats before, but I haven't been able to glean much on the subject from other Asari."

"It's... I have a condition, as you know. When people touch me... they lose themselves. That's what Samyaza stands for, I think... It's old Thessian for 'the eternal delight'... Or is it 'corrupting pleasure'? I do know that Ardat means 'Demon', though it is a term used by the Justicars to describe any Asari with a mutation."

She went on to explain that it was the duty of the Justicars to capture and contain (and if necessary, kill) any Asari with a strange genetic quirk that made them unable to exist in Asari society. For this task, the Justicars were divided in several orders: The Custodians were charged with the imprisonment, care and recapture of the Ardats, while the Caedo Justicars were tasked with seeking them out in the general population. The Sapiens Justicars were the scientists studying the various types of Ardat mutations. These mutations had been thoroughly catalogued, and each had been given a different name in Old Thessian. Even Manah didn't know all of them.

"I knew a girl who was an Ardat Kushiel, for example. She couldn't feel pain, only pleasure. That made her, um..."

"Yes?"

"It made her very useful."

"What for?" asked Brea, but Manah kept silent, ashamed.

"Prostitution." said Jensen, figuring that a girl that couldn't feel pain would be very appealing to a bored, rich sadist. "The kind that involves lots of money and no questions asked."

Manah's eyes were downcast, confirming Jensen's statement: no amount of drunkenness would let her keep her good humor. Eri may not have been able to feel pain, but every time she came back her body was a little more scarred and her limbs were getting worse. Eventually, she stopped being of use, and just sat there, her look blank and vacant...

"Did they sell you, too?" asked Jensen.

"...sometimes." as she uttered the words, the mood in the entire restaurant changed: everyone seemed... sad, and angry and melancholic. A girl suddenly broke out crying. "But... it wasn't so bad. There was no bonding involved... they just touch me for a moment, and they recover their lost zest for life."

_That does not make it okay, _thought Jensen. _Not at all._

"Hm. Makes sense." said Brea. "My... employer has kept tabs on the Thessian city-states' finances, and he's found no indication that the Justicars get funded at all, legally or otherwise. It makes sense that the Justicars would put their charges to work, making products to sell or provide services to finance their operations. Still, I thought Justicars were supposed to wander Asari space, righting wrongs like a knight-errant of old?" she gave a sidelong glance at Jensen at that last part, much to his confusion and annoyance.

"Those would be the Justicar errants." said Manah, as she started to sober up. "They're the face of the Order, and many tales are told of their exploits." She seemed to cheer up a bit. "I remember reading a storybook about one's exploits when I was very young..."

"Those Justicars..." asked Jensen, his voice low. "Do they wear red armor?"

"Hm? Oh, yes, they do."

"With gold trim?"

"And they have clips on their heads, like a crown?"

"Yes, yes they do! Have you seen one before?"

"I'm looking at one _right now._"

An Asari in clad in red light battle armor was at the restaurant's entrance, her way barred by a very tall and very imposing greeter. Her steely pale blue eyes were fixed on Manah, even as she tried to convince the man to let her through.

"Oh, _bugger._" cursed Brea.

"Oh, no. Oh n_o no no no..." _Manah did her best not to panic, but it was no use. Soon, she would speak the words and she would be a slave again. Her panic faded when Jensen grabbed her by the wrist.

_"We need to leave,"_ he said calmly._ "Now." _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Samara did not want to be here, but the Code was absolute.<p>

As a Justicar Errant she was pledged to defend the common law of Asari society, to protect the innocent, and to punish the guilty. She was also sworn to live by the Code, and the most important of all the sutras compelled her to pursue any Ardat and capture them, or kill them, should they prove far too dangerous to contain. For Samara, that suited her fine: Morinth, an Ardat Yakshi and a remorseless serial killer, had been the entire reason why she had entered the order to begin with. She had pursued the monster for the past three centuries, following a trail of bodies that spanned the entire breadth of Asari space, and it had led her to this planet.

But sadly, the trail had gone cold. When Matriarch Aethyta had called Samara to the Eternity bar to discuss the Secret, Samara had responded immediately, her heart full of hope. Surely, the disgraced matriarch had been keeping an eye out for the creatures, and had sniffed out Morinth's tracks. Why else would she have summoned her to a bar, the very hunting ground Morinth favored best?

Samara had been surprised to find that Aethyta worked there as a bartender. Still, she had recited the mantras of the Inner Circle, proving that she had been found worthy of knowing the Higher Secrets of the Asari, and speaking of them without being immediately executed. What surprised her even more, however, was that according to Aethyta, there was another Ardat— a Samyaza— walking free on Illium. That had been a first: throughout her career as an Errant, Samara had never been called upon to apprehend another variant of the Ardat. The Custodians and the Caedo handled that sort of thing, usually, and rarely asked assistance from an Errant like her.

Aethyta had been adamant about having seen this Ardat on the loose, and provided the Justicar with a detailed physical description and its current location. Apparently, the bartender maintained a little network of informants throughout the city, and had tracked down the mutant to a human hotel's restaurant. When asked how she knew the girl was an Ardat to begin with, and an escapee with a Geis on top of that, the bartender had not exactly been forthcoming, and Samara wondered if she was lying, and using an Errant Justicar to pursue some kind of vendetta. She had reminded the Matriarch that she would make every effort to capture the girl, not kill her. That seemed to suit her just fine, apparently.

"Just put that little monster back where she belongs." she had said bitterly, looking at a picture of an Asari Maiden with a mixture of sorrow and anger.

And so, Samara the Errant Justicar had climbed to the ninetieth floor of the Septième Ciel. Not a few feet out of the elevator, she had been stopped by a dark-haired human with a funny piece of curly hair above his lip. "Do you have a reservation?" he asked, with an accent that sounded a bit strange, as if english was not his true tongue.

"No," she replied. "I am looking for someone."

"Aren't we all?" the greeter sneered. "Madame, unless you have a reservation, then I cannot let you in."

"I am a Justicar." "Ah bon? And that is supposed to mean something to me?"

Samara had been told this particular breed of human — a Frenchman — tended to cave in under threat of violence, so she attempted to threaten him into letting her through. What Samara did not know was that Robert St-Germain, before getting involved in the restaurant business, was a member of the Foreign Legion, having served in the Algerian Wastes and Huffman island, and was neither impressed with her threats nor her tastelessly exposed cleavage (facts that he was more than happy to inform her about). Samara merely sighed, and touched the man, and he froze in place, having been put under Stasis for at least ten minutes. Plenty of time to activate the girl's Geis and leave.

As Samara stepped into the dining room, her quarry was being led by the hand and into the kitchen by a tall human man in a dark blue longcoat, followed by a beautiful human woman. Odd. The man was not affected by her touch. Had the Ardat tamed her powers? Had she enthralled these humans? No matter, there would be time for questions later, and if the humans stood in her way, then she would simply kill them. Better they die now than be slaves forever.

She hurried her pace, following them into the cookery, and when she opened the doors she found the chef, a tall, older blonde man, sprawled unconscious on the floor while his sous-chefs tried to wake him up.

"Gordon? Gordon! Wake up!" pleaded one of the cooks. "Aw, this isn't good."

"Don't shake him so much!" said another. "The man punched him real hard..."

"Who did this?" asked Samara, her tone commanding, certain that the thralls had done this. "Where did they go?"

"They went towards the emergency stairs!" answered an Asari waitress, knowing exactly what Samara was. "Go get them!"

Samara ran, and kicked the door to the emergency stairwell open. She heard the sound of footsteps coming from downstairs — the clacking of high heels on concrete. She noted the lack of the footfalls of boots to the sound, and immediately realized that the golden-haired woman was acting as a decoy. Samara also knew that anyone looking to escape her would try and get to an escape vehicle, and every skyscraper on Illium was required by law to have an aircar parking lot on the roof.

Following her instincts, Samara ran upstairs, and when she heard the hiss of a door closing above her, she knew she was right.

**~[h+]~**

* * *

><p><em>"Jensen,"<em> transmitted Brea. _"I don't think she's taking the bait. I can hear her going upstairs!"_

_"Damn. And I can't find anything with manual controls. Goddamned X3M's!"_

_"Hide! You couldn't escape her in an aircar anyways — Justicars are powerful enough to stop one in mid-air."_

The door to the emergency stairwell was slammed open, announcing the presence of the Justicar. Jensen took Manah by the hand and hid behind one of the many similar-looking vehicles. Jensen activated his Smart Vision to keep track of the Asari, and saw her warp the doors to the elevator and the emergency stairwell into uselessness, cutting them off from escape. Technically, it wouldn't be a problem for Jensen to open those, but he'd make a lot of noise doing it. Leaving quietly was out of the picture.

For a whole minute, Jensen and Manah played cat and mouse with the Justicar, as she walked slowly around the parking lot, her eyes scanning every shadow, her ears strained to hear every little sound hidden by the quiet howl of the wind.

After a while, she spoke aloud.

"I know that you are here."

Manah whimpered, ready to panic, and Jensen put his finger over his mouth, silently begging her to stay quiet.

"I know that you are scared." continued the Justicar. "I know that you wish to be free. But you must understand that the monastery is not a prison, it is your home, the only one that will welcome you back in the end. How long before your dark nature comes to the fore, and you kill again? How long before the people around you realize how dangerous you really are, and they murder you out of fear? Do not be afraid of me, for I will take you home, I will keep you safe."

When Manah failed to respond, the Justicar continued her search by biotically ripping open the X3M's one by one, making sure no one was hiding in them. There were hundreds of them, but she was patient, and worked slowly and methodically. After a dozen more wrecked cars, she addressed Jensen.

"Human. Has she seduced you? Did she beg for your aid, crying like a wounded beast and calling my order a pack of vicious Varren hungry for her blood? This story has happened before... but nothing is at it seems. I am not the agent of an evil empire. She is not a innocent damsel in distress, and you are not a hero. See. Reason. Let me take her back where she belongs, lest she visits death upon all you hold dear."

Jensen attempted to contact Hein for some assistance, but all he got in return was static.

"Brea? we're running out of things to hide behind!"

"I need to get the elevator in position to open the door. It's going to take some time! Distract her, or something!"

_**~[h+]~**_

Samara conjured a Barrier around herself, and drew her Acolyte pistol at the noise behind her, aiming it directly at the tall human's head. His hands were up in surrender, and the Ardat was nowhere to be seen near him. Was she still here? No matter. He knew where she was. Getting him to reveal her would be simple.

"Stay where you are." she commanded.

"I just want to talk." he said.

"So you have come to your senses?" she asked, aim unwavering.

"If by that you mean that I've decided to give her up, then the answer is no."

Samara had expected such an answer. Many a lovestruck youth had been willing to die for Morinth's sake, all for the sake of an emotion that Morinth was incapable of feeling. But this man was neither young nor lovestruck... And yet, he had touched a Samyaza. He should be crazed and delusional. Instead, his gaze seemed to be probing her for any weaknesses — not in her defence, but in her psyche.

"What are you?" she asked.

"Human, last I checked." he answered simply.

"No. You are not a normal human. Your metal eyes betray another nature. You are a synthetic."

"Mostly human, then."

"Then you are driven by logic. Again, I ask you to let me take the girl back where she belongs. She... has a horrible condition, one that drives her to... devour, and kill. She is a danger to everyone, including herself. Should we allow her to run free, and risk death and destruction? The answer is no. For the same reason we quarantine the diseased, and imprison known criminals, we must not let someone like her go free. Take me to her. The longer she tastes freedom, the more difficult it will be to control her."

The human frowned. "That reasoning is built on two things: One, that only your monasteries are capable of providing her with care, and two, that the punishment should precede the crime. Call me crazy, but we humans usually believe in the notion of 'innocent until proven guilty'."

"...So do the Asari."

"And yet you're willing to condemn her to a prison on the off chance that she might accidentally kill someone?"

"Yes."

"Will she be tried?"

"No."

"That doesn't sound like justice being carried out at all."

Samara understood exactly what he meant. To an Asari there was nothing more sacred than the right to be heard, to make one's case... but the Justicar Order was not like normal Asari society. It was a completely different world, with its own rules, and its own reasons to be.

And its own gods.

"...That is because it is not," said Samara. "She is sick. She must be put away for the good of all, that is all there is to it."

"Right, so she should be put away forever."

Samara was glad that the man finally understood.

"Except T'soni didn't escape from a monastery. Her Justicar minders DIED days ago on a remote world called Caleston, and she was all alone, barely surviving before I found her. If she's supposed to be so sick, so dangerous, why would your order risk bringing her out on a remote alien world?"

"The girl lied to you: My order does not allow their charges to leave the monasteries."

"Don't they? Sounds like they're willing to make exceptions when the bounty of Promethean ruins are at stake, or when there's money to be made from the forced prostitution!"

The Justicar Errant was doubtful of the first statement, though she could not deny that there was a grain of truth to the second: Though she had not borne witness to the acts of sacred prostitution that took place in the monasteries, she had been told that certain rich Asari paid quite a bit of coin to take part in them. But the participants, Ardats or no, were volunteers, and the Custodians made certain that they not suffer from a mutation that made melding dangerous... Still, that did not account for the money necessary to maintain the monasteries, not to mention the order itself.

But she could not use this as a defense. The Secrets were to be kept, especially from the outsiders.

"You don't even deny it." The human said bitterly. "Face it: If Manah goes with you she will put in a place where she will be abused, psychologically and sexually for the rest of her life, without a trial or a hearing. That is a crime. The question is, who is the real criminal, here? Me, for letting it happen? You, for perpetrating it? Or are the real criminals your masters?"

Samara could barely contain her righteous fury, and her finger was this close to pressing her gun's trigger. "Do not question the integrity of the Order, or the Code. You do not have the right."

"Judging a corrupt code of law is a duty, not a right! I now ask you to see reason! Manah is not a threat! She doesn't want to hurt anyone, and her condition is perfectly manageable! Unless you've got proof that she actually has murdered someone, the only reason you have to take her in is to help a bunch of glorified pimps make more money... And that's not good enough for you, I know it. Leave her alone. There are worse monsters out there."

Morinth. Oh yes, there were far worse monsters out there, and Morinth was most certainly one of them. Every minute she spent here talking, every day that the Custodians would take to get here and claim Manah was an opportunity for Morinth to make an escape. Samara should have ignored Aethyta, ignored T'soni, and resumed her hunt.

But the Code was the Code, even if her fellows did not respect it as much as she did, in both letter and spirit... and so she would not suffer an Ardat to be free.

"...Yes, there are, but—"

From behind her, Samara heard the sound of metal being sliced by an Omni-Blade. She turned to the elevator, and saw the human woman in golden hair wrestle the warped sliding doors open, and the Ardat making a beeline for it. She had been tricked: the man had merely stalled for time, and like a fool she played right into his hand. She pulled the trigger, and then several things happened.

The first was that the cyborg had dodged a bullet, his body having shifted sideways the instant Samara had pulled the trigger. Then, his entire body blinked out, then reappeared instantly in front of her, his fist drawn back. His closed hand crackled with lighting, and a flow of air warped around it. It shot out like a cannonball, and tore right through her Barrier, and into her face.

And then, all was dark.

**~[h+]~**

"You should have let me kill her." said Brea, sitting with her arms crossed in the X3M's passenger seat. Jensen, sitting in (what should have been) the drivers seat, was having none of it.

"She was no threat. And can we not talk about this? I don't feel pretty good about sucker punching someone after talking her down."

"Talking her down?" Aya said a little derisively. "Jensen, she's basically an Asari Templar — utterly devoted to her task. If you thought a few lines of dialogue could somehow sway a lifetime of indoctrination and belief in your favour, then you were sorely mistaken... The best you could have hoped for was getting in close enough for a surprise attack, but then..." she sighed. "...You had to go and give her a dose of Medi-Gel."

"Laced with a sedative. I'm not an idiot."

"It doesn't matter. She'll wake up eventually, then she will report you to her superiors, and the Justicars will not take this lightly."

"S-She's... not wrong." said Manah from the backseat. "But I'm glad things did not end in tragedy. M-maybe... maybe it would have been wiser to give me up?"

"No." said Jensen. "What's done is done. We need to get you on board the Durendal and out of Asari space."

Jensen tried to contact Neil, but there was no answer. He then tried calling Aki, then Grey, then the rest of the Deep Eyes, but only Ryan answered back.

_"Jensen? I've been trying to contact Hein—"_

_"—But you haven't been having any luck, I know, me neither. I'm headed to the Armax Arena. Figured he's still there."_

_"Lelia, Fyodor and I are headed there now."_

_"Hold on, I got another call."_ Jensen switched frequencies._ "Jensen here."_

_"Jensen? It's Spooky. I'm at the Arena along with Zev, Tali, Lunchbox and Drebin. We tried to join the fun at the Arena, but we got stonewalled by a couple of Mercs from some outfit called CAT6. Said it was closed for renovations."_

_"That can't be right. Garrus called me earlier, and the place seemed like it was going in full swing."_

_"I know, suspicious, right? But the weird thing is that when I tried to call Hein to see what's up, the comm package in my tool was jammed, but the noise cleared up the further away I got from the Arena. We did some scanning: The place is wrapped in the bubble of a short range Snow Six jammer. I'm guessing the mercs have something to do with it."_

Jensen cursed under his breath. _"...You have got to be kidding me... Alright, don't do anything, Ryan is on his way, while Brea and I should be here in less than 5 minutes."_

"Uh, yeah, Zev decided to scout ahead. I'd call him back, but..."

_"But he's in range of the jammer, right. Well, as long as he sticks to scouting, then it should be okay. Might as well get a better idea of what the hell is going on."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Aircar landed some distance away from the Arena's main entrance, Jensen and Aya stepped out of the aircar, and found Zev and the rest of Durendal's crew not trapped inside the Arena huddled around Drebin's mule bot.<p>

"There are twelve armed mercenaries on the outside, divided into four groups." Zev explained. "One group is at the entrance, warding off would-be spectators and fighters. Another two are patrolling the parking lot, and the last one is protecting the signal jammer on the rooftop. The emergency exits have been welded shut, and trapped with concussion mines."

"From how Zev described them," added Ryan. "Each group is composed of a Commando outfitted for CQC, a Sentinel with an Omni-Shield, and a Saboteur — or a combat engineer, if you prefer."

"These CAT6," asked Jensen, "Who are they? What do they want with this place? Are they after Hein?"

"CAT6 is a fairly new outfit of mercenaries," explained Brea. "Named after 'Category Six', the term used by the Alliance military for dishonourably discharged soldiers. Almost all of them have some kind of drug problem or a criminal record."

"CAT6 also got dealt a huge financial blow when they lost their heavy frigate a year back." said Drebin. "They need coin, bad. I'm guessing they're here to rob the place: Arena prizes are worth billions of credits on the black market."

"Then shouldn't we call the police?" suggested Lelia, after making sure Manah and Fyodor were safe in the aircar.

"Aw, man, not the pigs!" Lunchbox whined with disgust.

"Hey, watch it." said Jensen as he threw the boy a dirty look, cowing him immediately.

Drebin shook his head. "The police on Illium is a joke. It's made up of bureaucrats than cops, and first response will probably just believe CAT6's excuse that the place is closed for renovations and tag us with fines for making a prank call."

"And money talks in Nos Astra," said Brea. "Even if the police respond appropriately, it's going to turn into a negotiation: Nos Astra's government is a firm believer that anyone can be bought, and will simply bribe CAT6 to go away. If CAT6 proves uncooperative, then they'll hire a PMC to clean them out. Out here, that means either the Eclipse or the Blue Suns."

"Neither group is known for caring to avoid collateral damage. Or fatalities." said Zev.

"The last thing I want is a bloodbath. I'll need to go in there and find out exactly what is going on." said Adam.

"You can't be serious." said Brea, disbelieving.

"Alone?" Tali shook her head. "No! There could be hundreds of these mercenaries in there! The place is huge!"

"I've faced worse odds. Could use some electronic support, though. I'd hate to go in there blind."

"Then we're going to have to do something about that jammer on the roof." said Spooky. "Lunchbox and I can tweak it so that we can open our own little comm channel, and if we can get our hands on their helmets we can tap into their encrypted comm signal and figure out what they're up to."

"The antennas on the roof are connected to the Arena's LAN," added Tali, "With a good bypass of the wiring we can tap into the Arena's security."

"And from there I can get in from the roof entrance." agreed Jensen. "Roof it is, then."

**~[h+]~**

* * *

><p>With a plan set, Drebin started distributing some fairly light equipment to the crew from out of the mule's cargo box, stuff he just couldn't re-sell. Seeing as the plan called for Jensen to climb onto the roof and make a way for Lunchbox and Spooky, Adam approached him.<p>

"I'm gonna need at least 25 meters of rope. I don't suppose you have some?"

"...You know, when I tell my grandchildren about the first time I spoke to the infamous Adam Jensen, I'm gonna have to fib that part, because 'have ya got 25 meters worth of rope?' just doesn't quite have that punch kids are looking for."

"If you haven't got what I need..."

"I do indeed. Got a sixty meter spool of high-tensile strength rope for about 2000 credits." he answered. "I also got a few prod batteries for 5000, and a couple of concussion grenades for the same price, if you're interested."

Jensen was at a loss for words for a moment. "You're... you're seriously going to charge me? I'm trying to rescue your boss, here."

"We're assuming he needs rescuing. This could just be one of his gags, of course. I'm a businessman, Jensen, and I've been plenty generous already. Just gave Tali a Silenced Katana mark I shotgun, as a matter of fact. If you haven't got the coin, I can always go for a trade."

Jensen paid the 7000 credits for the stunner batteries and the rope. "You're going to sit this one out?"

"Do I look like a fighter to you?"

Actually, he did, but Jensen knew better than to try and pull a secret out of an Omar. But he had ways... "I've got this pistol," he said as he handed over the curvy, elegantly designed weapon he recovered from the fallen Justicar.

Drebin made a whistling noise out of his speaker as he took the weapon, appraised it, then looked down its sights. "An Acolyte mk IV. Thing's worth at least half a million credits."

"And half a million credits is more than enough to hire an Omar merc for one job, I think."

"...I'm just a merchant, Jensen. Come on, you know us Omar? We're worse then the Volus when it comes to capitalism. Can't fight worth a shit, either."

"You know what else I know? Mechanical limbs. I could hear your aim and recoil stabilizers kick in the minute you put that gun into your hands. No merchant needs that kind of hardware. Also, you have dozens of scratch marks on your head and arms: bullet marks, and a few bullet holes sealed with Omni-Gel. So not only are you outfitted for combat... you're seasoned."

The Omar emitted a sigh, then a laughing sound from its mask. "Hein said you were a perceptive bastard. Fine, you got me. I do indeed have a history of violent behaviour motivated by currency... So, are you really certain you want me to tag along with you? Thought you were the lone wolf type."

"Usually, yes, but I have no idea what's in there, and since Ryan doesn't have any protection, I'm going to need someone to watch my back. Your backup, for that gun. Do we have a deal?"

"...Alright. Why not? My actuators could use the exercise, anyways."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The deal struck, Jensen was approached by Spooky. "Jensen," he said. "If you're going to take out those mercs, one way or another, then you're going to have to Breach their comms package before you do. If you don't, the whole place will get alerted to your presence—"<p>

"I'm sorry; 'Breach'?"

"Didn't Hein tell you about it? Tali and I worked with him on your Electronic Warfare package while you slept. You can scan for wireless signals, and once you got a lock on an electronic device you can attempt to hack it remotely. Seeing as most PMCs use a wireless command and control system, it's probably a good idea to fool it into thinking everything's fine before you attack."

"Won't the jammer be an issue?"

"Not for them, it's not. Snow Six doesn't work like Snowblind: it jams a range of frequencies, not all of them at once, and your scanner will find the clear frequency they're using to coordinate once you get close enough."

"Thanks...But I haven't been properly trained in its use."

"Can't you work your Prothean techno-magic and just use it?"

"I don't think it works that way, Moody."

"Well, there's a problem...Hm, If you can't use it yet, then take Tali with you on the roof. She can jack into your implant and use it on them."

"I'm not exactly keen on taking untrained civvies with me into potential danger."

"Well, unless you want to stir up the hornet's nest or go in blind, then you're just going to have to. Besides, her suit's got better shields than your fancy coat."

Adam hated to admit it, but the hacker had a point. "Fine."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Just as Adam was about to talk to Tali'Zorah, Ryan approached him. "I have to warn you: your cloak may not work as well as you expect."<p>

"Why?"

"Those CAT6 mercs are using an Alliance knock-off of the USMC Nightmare helmet. Its optics are set to see in the electromagnetic spectrum."

"So if I use my cloak I might as well be lit up like a Christmas tree?"

"Not quite: they won't be able to see you if you're over eight meters away from them."

"I wasn't planning on relying on my cloak, but thanks for the advice."

"You're welcome... and Jensen?"

"Yeah?"

"...Try and get my team out safe, alright?"

"I... was planning on it."

"Right, right of course I just... I worry about them sometimes. I know we've got a reputation for being badasses, but the fact of the matter is that without our gear we're just as vulnerable as anyone else."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>When Tali had been told by Jensen that he needed her, her heart leapt a bit. Of course, he meant that he hadn't quite gotten the hang of the Breach system she, Hein and Spooky had programmed into his head, and he would need her to operate it to disable the rooftop guards' C&amp;C interface, but still, she was happy to be of use. After all, Tali had been denied going on Caleston by both Hein and Grey, as they had no confidence in her martial skills. She had argued that Quarians are trained extensively in self-defence before going on their pilgrimages and that you couldn't ask for someone better to fight Geth, but Grey had argued back with the fact that Tali herself had been captured by mere gangsters, and had to be rescued by Jensen.<p>

Tali countered that she had survived Saren's clone soldiers for hours, and had even managed to kill several of them before that damned lizard bit her leg... but the human soldiers remained unconvinced. And now, Adam was giving her a chance to prove herself to the rest of the crew.

Then, her heart sank when she was told that Adam was planning to climb the wall to get to the roof, bypassing the guards waiting at the emergency ladder, and that she'd have to hang on to him the whole way up.

"Hold on tight, Zorah," he told her, and she did, wrapping her arms around his neck. Adam's fingers found a decent grip on the unevenly built concrete brick wall, and Tali got scared.

"C-c-c-couldn't Manah just lift us up there? You know, with her biotics?"

"She says she hasn't got the control necessary to lift someone up twenty-five meters... at least not without snapping any bones."

"Oh. Oh, okay... Jensen?"

"Yeah?" he said as he lifted both himself and Tali up with ease.

"Did I mention that Quarians don't like heights?" It was a known fact that, since Quarians spent most of their lives with a roof over their heads and a firm steel floor under their feet, looking at the sky or looking down at a ravine for the first time often sent them into a panic. Tali had been prepared for that eventuality, but she had never been told there would be climbing.

"Well, then don't look down." said Jensen as he kept climbing.

"I think I'll just close my eyes and pray." she said as she tightened her arms around his neck.

"Well, do it quietly, or they'll hear us."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen, as it turned out, was a remarkably fast climber, and it wasn't long before he pulled himself over the edge of the roof top and both he and Tali were on firm ground again. They were hidden from the CAT6's by an over-sized air conditioner — one of dozens spread evenly over the roof. They crouch-walked from cover to cover until they were close enough to the three mercenaries for a remote hack. Certain that they hadn't been spotted, Tali set up her Omni-Tool and connected it to a port in the back of Jensen's neck and began to operate the Breach program, while Jensen activated his Smart-Vision to keep an eye on the Mercs, and strained his ears to hear them.<p>

_SCANNING FOR ACTIVE FREQUENCIES..._

"Hey, you guys got a bad feeling about Toombs?" asked the Heavy.

"Hey, as long as Toombs finally gets his revenge and we can move on to more profitable ventures." answered the Specialist as he monitored the Jammer.

"That's just it, though. I'm worried it won't be enough — I mean, the scientists that fucked his mind up, they're dead! We should have moved on a year ago but instead he became even more obsessed with chasing a ghost."

_FREQUENCY 053.1 ACTIVE — TRACING SOURCE..._

"That ghost made our frigate explode," reminded the Commando. "You forgot about that part?"

"I couldn't forget if I tried, but that's just hardware, man. We could always have bought a new one. Hell, I'm hoping what's inside the Arena vault will make up for that loss, but Toombs... I don't know, I think he's going to just find something else to obsess over and he's going to take us down with him."

"As long as I get paid," said the Specialist.

"As long as I get to kill shit," said the Commando.

The Heavy sighed. "This is why I should work solo."

_SOURCE(S) FOUND. LOCKING ON. DISPLAYING._

Adam's AR overlay suddenly highlighted the three mercenaries, and white circular icons appeared over them. Jensen paid close attention to what exactly Tali was doing: First, she breached their mini-frame's firewalls, then, she introduced several worms in their command software to fool them into transmitting false data to their commander, and shut down their communication.

"There, they can call for help all they want," murmured Tali. "But no one's coming to help th—"

A patrolling drone, a floating, spinning piece of circuits and Omni-Gel shaped into a two-pronged blade, turned a corner and noticed Tali, and tried to alert its master by beeping loudly. Tali's training kicked in, and she destroyed the drone with a blast from her silenced shotgun.

"Hey! Someone's over there!" shouted the Specialist. "Two intruders! They're armed!"

The heavy, safe behind his Omni-Shield, fired his heavy machine pistol loaded with incendiary ammo, keeping Adam and Tali pinned while the shotgun-wielding commando made his way to flank them. Tali tried to keep him at bay with her shotgun blasts, but he was undaunted. His shields held, and the Zyme in his system made him fearless. Then he was wrapped in the electric blast of an Overload, halving his shield, but he still charged in, moving in for the kill with his Barong automatic shotgun.

Adam got to him first, smashing the Commando's jaw in.

"What the?!" shouted the Specialist. "Harry's down, but his vitals report normal! They hacked our helmets!"

"Toombs! We got a problem over here!" the heavy shouted into his mic, but he received no answer. "Shit! Sean, launch a drone! Alert our boys outside! We might need backup for this!"

Adam took the heavy down, second. He grabbed him from behind and executed a throw that smashed the merc's back against the concrete.

The Specialist fired a drone into the air, only to watch in horror as it dissolved under another overload blast. Adam took him down last, by forcing the Specialist's M99 Saber out of his hands before he could fire it, and then smashing the butt of the rifle against his helmet.

It was over in less than fifteen seconds.

_**~[h+]~**_

While the rest of the team worked on the signal jammer and used the Specialist's hardware to monitor CAT6's communications, Jensen, Drebin, Brea and Tali (who had traded her Katana mk I for the Barong mk III the Commando carried) had entered the building through the roof entrance. The Quarian mechanic had said that the smart-cam network worked on a separate one than the comms, and that she'd need to get to the main security room to override it. With that objective in mind, they headed down to the ninth floor, where Brea had told them the security room was. They had to evade a couple of patrols, first, and while Drebin and Brea were experienced infiltrators, Adam had no such confidence in Tali, and led her by the hand the whole time.

Not that she minded, of course. But she was worried about camouflage: Her dark plastic envirosuit, along with the long strips of decorative indigo cloth, clashed darkly with the beige walls and the white tiles of the Arena's interior. Then again, nobody in the group was properly camouflaged.

In the security room, after the personal networks of the two soldiers stationed there had been Breached, Drebin and Adam executed simultaneous, silent takedowns of the two Commandos, while Brea punched out the Specialist monitoring the security systems before he even had a chance to scream.

While Drebin secured the three mercs with Omni-cuffs and took away their weapons, Tali got to work on overriding the smart-cams, so that they would fail to recognize any intruders. Jensen checked on two prone security guards: they were out cold, apparently suffering from the effects of a concussion blast. They wouldn't wake up for hours.

"Oh no... there's maybe one hundred mercs out there." she said, as she inspected the multitude of monitors at the security station.

"Ninety-two, more precisely," corrected Brea, as she pressed keys on the security station's haptic interface, and quickly scanned the monitor feeds "Thirty-two are keeping the arena secure, ten have the lobby locked down, and the rest are patrolling the halls."

"You would think the spectators would make a break for it," commented Tali. "There's a thousand of them, they could overwhelm the mercs and escape!"

"Fear is an excellent method of keeping people under control." replied Brea. "In this case? Fear of death."

"All this to rob a vault full of prizes..."

"Very, VERY valuable prizes."

"So what's the plan?" asked Drebin.

"We could send the footage to the police: That much would warrant a proper response from Illium PD." suggested Brea.

"And then the Eclipse get sent in, and we'll have a blood bath on our hands." dismissed Adam. "Last resort."

"If we're going to do this ourselves, then we need to deal with a few situations." she brought up a few specific video feeds. "One: it seems your friend Vakarian and Corporal Proudfoot are detained in the Combatant's locker rooms, while Veetor and Sergeant Flemming are detained at the lobby, near the popcorn stand, along with the other hostages. They will need to be rescued. Second: there are two camera blackouts." She pointed at a holographic map of the sixth and third floors. "Here, and there."

"So?"

"I can't find either Dr. Ross or Hein on camera. I'm guessing they ran and hid, and disabled the cameras on their way, hoping not to be found. Someone's going to have to investigate them. And then we've got the vault."

"We might consider hitting the place," suggested Drebin. "It should have all kinds of useful gear, and that's also where the staff keeps the concussion charges meant to simulate explosions in Arena floor. I could use them to set traps all over the place, and once the Mercs get mobilized into place because of an alert..." he closed and opened his hand mimicking an explosion. "Bang."

"You might also consider getting the gear in there because of this." Brea brought up a video feed of the Arena, focused on the octagonal combat floor. It was completely flat, devoid of anything save for five people: Three CAT6 mercs, Grey, and a two-meter tall man clad in heavy power armor reinforced with tank plates, with the CAT6 logo (a six and a cat's eye) painted on his left pauldron. The jaundiced man looked haggard and ill, a sharp contrast to his size and intimidating countenance.

Drebin made a whistling noise. "Don't think you'll be able to bring him down with a tap on the head, Jensen."

"I can tap pretty hard... but yeah, I see what you mean. What are he and Grey talking about? They look pretty friendly, considering the circumstances."

"I have no idea," said Brea, "the smart cams don't have microphones. So, these are your objectives. I will stay here with Zorah to coordinate your efforts. Jensen, you'll inspect the blackout on the 3rd floor, and Drebin will investigate the one on the 6th. Go, now."

"Hey! Who put you in charge?" complained Tali.

"Seeing as I'm the one most qualified here in running covert operations, _I_ did."

Tali had wanted to argue the point, but Jensen and Drebin had already left. Apparently they didn't mind taking orders from her at all.

Off the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a cardboard box move on two legs in one of the video feeds. But when she looked at the screen nothing unusual was moving there. It was probably nothing, she thought. Maybe the anti-toxin was playing tricks with her mind...

_**~[h+]~**_

_"Brea to Jensen," _Aya transmitted on the frequency the Spookies had opened up. _"The blackout is on the other side of the building. Head for the maintenance catwalk on the ceiling above the fighting pit — you will bypass most of the patrols guarding the halls connecting the other side."_

_"Roger that,"_ replied Jensen. _"Headed for the catwalk."_

As Jensen skulked on the metal catwalk, he took notice of four armed mercs — women, judging from their figures — clad in light armor, scanning the crowd below with the scopes of their sniper rifles. No cameras were in the area, explaining why Brea hadn't spotted them.

_"Jensen to Brea, make that ninety-six mercs inside. I've got four snipers on the catwalks."_

_"That explains why the leader of these mercs keeps glancing upwards every thirty seconds... Leave them alone for now and proceed to your objective."_

_"Will do."_

_"Ryan to Jensen, Brea sent me images of the Merc in charge: it's been modified, but I'm certain he's wearing a Coalition M-33b Kua Fu Heavy Power Armor, the Chinese answer to the American T-50 Rhino. It's old, but it's got brutal power to spare for its thick polymer muscle fiber cords. I wouldn't try taking him on with hand-to-hand. You'll lose."_

Jensen glanced below, looking down on both Grey and the mercenary leader talking. Jensen tried to eavesdrop on their conversation, but they were some 26 meters below him, and the din of the ventilation system hid their voices.

_"Got any advice as to how to take him down?"_ Jensen transmitted subvocally.

_"With those armor plates? You're going to need high explosives."_

"Or a sniper rifle... His helmet's faceplate isn't closed."

_"His face is protected just fine. The Kua Fu has got crazy shields: they're tapped directly into its micro-fusion plant — no capacitors to deplete. Unless you got a snowblind grenade, or Phasic rounds, you're not gonna put a dent in them."_

_"How about both?"_ said Tali over the channel. _"Er, I mean Tali to Jensen? I just pulled a list of available gear from the vault: They have several Krysae Anti-Materiel Rifles in storage."_

_"So?"_ asked Jensen.

_"Krysae rifles use high explosive ammo."_ added Drebin. _"Your friend Vakarian takes one, goes for the face, then the boom knocks the merc leader out."_

_"Or,"_ suggested Ryan,_ "We could surround the guy and keep firing automatic weapons at him. The power train on the Kua Fu has got limits, and the shield emitters constantly firing will overheat it. He'll have to shut down his shields to let them cool if they get overwhelmed with bullets."_

_"I'll think about it. Jensen out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

_"Jensen to Brea, I'm at the blacked out area,"_ said Jensen from the safety of the airducts. He scanned the area with his smart vision. _"I count three teams — six commandos, three specialists — looking for someone."_

_"Brea to Jensen, Moody has tapped into their transmissions. They're looking for a dark-haired caucasian who... kicked one of their officers in the balls, giggled, and then ran for it."_

_"...Hein." _

_"...most likely. Can you see him with your Smart Vision?"_

_"Nope. I think he slipped past them."_

_"That can't be right. If he's not here, where is he hiding? Is there anything your Smart Vision can't cut past?"_

_"Well, there's electronic shielding..."_

Jensen heard one of the soldiers shout: "Hey! Squad 3 thought they saw someone go into the computer room!"

"Let's go!" shouted another eagerly.

_"Well, there you have it, Jensen." _transmitted Brea._ "Follow them and make sure they don't find him. Can you handle Breaching on your own?"_

_"Yeah, I think I got the gist of it."_

_**~[h+]~**_

"You two stay here and watch the door." said the Commando. "The rest of us are going in to look for him."

"Watch it in there." said a Specialist. "The EMP shielding in the room makes your EM spectrum scans useless. You're gonna have to eyeball him."

"Fine."

The Commando, along with the other six mercs, entered the gloomy room. Coolant mist covered the floor, emanating from hundreds of dark computer towers dedicated to creating, animating and simulating combatants and environments for the pleasure of the spectators.

"...Spread out, search every nook and cranny." he ordered.

The CAT6 mercs combed the place slowly, their feet disturbing the mist, step by step. The Commando himself took the leftmost lane, and would have kept on going until his feet hit something his AR interface should have highlighted, but didn't. Damned buggy software.

"Huh."

"What?" called out one of his comrades."

"Nothing. I found a cardboard crate. Probably just spare parts, or something. Moving on."

As he turned his back on it, a thought niggled at the back of his mind, and after he took three steps, he voiced it: "Hey, wait a minute... nobody uses cardboard crates anymore!"

The Commando kicked the box away, revealing... absolutely nothing underneath. He sighed in relief, not noticing the madman sneaking up behind him.

"I do..." Hein answered the Commando's earlier question.

"!"

_**~[h+]~**_

Hein grabbed the soldier's wrist, twisting the weapon from his grasp, then forced him into a chokehold. The commando tried to break free, but Hein's grip on him was ironclad.

"Surprise!" he cackled. He moved in full view of two other soldiers, who immediately noticed him and pointed their guns at him. A third, a shotgun-wielding commando, moved in behind Hein. The only reason he wasn't firing was because he was to far away, and his comrade's shields would block the shot.

"Let him go!" shouted a Specialist wielding a bayoneted Argus Assault rifle, moving in closer and closer.

"Is this the guy?" said the other specialist.

"What do ya think?!"

"Urgh... guys, it's gotta be him!" said the restrained commando. "I didn't even hear him until it was too late! He must have dyed his hair or something!"

"Let him go, Armitage!" shouted the Specialist again.

"Wrong person, I'm afraid." replied Hein. "And hey, if you insist!"

Hein tossed his hostage into the commando behind him (who had just crossed the shield's dead zone), causing them both to lose their balance and fall. With a swift, efficient step, he grabbed the Specialist by the arm and twisted it, forcing him to move into the other, causing him to shoot his gun wildly. The other Specialist tried to dodge, and but was briefly taken off balance by the mass of his comrade grazing him, long enough for Hein to grab the merc's assault rifle, twist it out of his hands, and stab him in the groin with the bayonet. As the merc went down screaming, Hein's Omni-Tool immediately got to work on removing the ID lock.

Behind Hein, the shotgun-wielding commando managed to get back up, but before he could fire, Hein spun around and knocked his opponent's shotgun aside with the bayonet and stepped in with a rifle butt strike to the chest, knocking the wind out of the merc. The other commando that had served as a shield tried to get back up, but then Hein Omni-Tool beeped, so the Colonel just shot him in the knees.

The third specialist, who thought he could surprise Hein with a Talon shot pistol, turned around the corner to where the fighting was happening. Hein was ready for him, hiding behind a computer tower, and surprised him with a finely executed CQC takedown that involved grabbing his gun hand, pulling him in, and pushing him down with a shoulder check.

Before Hein could finish the prone merc, another Specialist with an SMG came around, and Hein spun, knocking the weapon aside with the bayonet while simultaneously getting the momentum for a sidekick to the man in the face. The merc with the SMG went down on his knees, and Hein straight kicked him right in the head, sending the merc into a coma.

The semi-conscious merc that Hein had failed to finish barely had time to get up before Hein spun again, lining up the back of his knee with the merc's neck and kneeled, leaving Hein hands free to overwatch the area while he was choking the merc into unconsciousness with his leg.

Spotting another Commando (how many of these idiots were there, Hein wondered), Hein suppressed him with a burst from the Argus, then hid once the merc he was choking stopped struggling.

The last remaining merc in the room frantically tried to find Hein, and he did, but the old soldier was waiting for him. He knocked the merc's weapon to the side with the bayonet, then put the assault rifle under his opponent's armpit, using the length of the weapon as a lever to pull and twist his arm and lock it behind his back, turning the man into a human shield and a gun mount. This left Hein's off hand free to grab his stun knife from his jacket and put the cold blade close to the man's neck to keep him under control.

"Bend over," said Hein, pulling at the rifle, causing the commando's arm to nearly snap.

"Argh! Jesus Christ!"

Hein chuckled. "Not quite. I said: bend over. I want to be able to shoot your friends at the door when they come in."

"Argh, fine! But you're wasting your time, Armitage! My friends outside called for backup! Soon Toombs will send a full squad of Heavies to deal with you!"

"I'm counting on it." said Hein as he forced the merc to face the door. "I've been meaning to practice my 'mail slot' technique. I think I can take three of them down before my— I mean, your shields fizzle out."

"Not if I struggle, you won't!"

"Struggle, and I cut your throat."

For a few seconds Hein and the merc waited for the door to open and vomit out more CAT6 troopers. The door slid open, and the silhouette of a Specialist just stood there for a bit before falling down, while Adam Jensen uncloaked behind him.

"Ah," said Hein, as he spun the knife around and smashed the electrified pommel against the back of the merc's neck, knocking him out cold. "Thank god you're here. Help me secure these idiots, and then we have to hurry: Ross and Verner don't have much time."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Heavy groaned while the Medic applied some Medi-Gel on his injured arm. Between the torn shoulder muscles and the broken elbow, he wouldn't be seeing action for at least a week after this.<p>

"Goddamn, that smarts." he complained.

"I can't believe some little woman get the better of you." said the Medic.

"That little woman pulled some Aikido shit when I tried to grab her! Hey, you!" he yelled at the Specialist hiding from the Totema Turret Drone down the hall. "Is that thing out of Juice, yet?"

The Specialist activated another Disruptor Drone, and the Totema immediately fired its electro-laser at it as it came around the corner. Yet another cartridge of Omni-Gel wasted, along with two LAMs, an EMP grenade, and a can of soda.

"Nope," said the Specialist. The other eight soldiers groaned. A blonde man in a green coat had been spotted running through here, accompanied by an asian woman wearing a US Navy uniform. They weren't a hundred percent sure if it was Armitage, and so far it had been the woman and her Totema that had given them a bloody nose, casting doubts if the man trapped in the bathroom was really the man that had struck such a terrible blow against them.

"I say we rush all at once!" suggested a Commando, with payback on his mind. "That thing can't kill us all!"

"You wanna walk into that killzone, be my guest, asshole." complained another.

"Let me try something!" A sniper peeked out of cover, and tried to line up a shot right between the sheets of Omni-Armor that covered the vital parts of the Totema. All she got for her benefit was an electric shock and a laser beam through the eye. It didn't hit the brain, thankfully, but she was down for the count. The Specialist pulled her back into cover, hoping to apply first aid in time to save her.

"Fuck! Delta Squad to Security station, come in Security station!" transmitted the Heavy in charge.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Security station to Delta," replied Spooky in the hacked headset, trying not to giggle. "What's your trouble?<p>

"My trouble? My fucking trouble is that you still haven't found a way around that Totema, goddamnit!" shouted the CAT6 Merc.

"Sorry, but there's no other way to the women's bathroom than that hallway. You're just gonna have to keep teasing it with drones until it runs out of juice or its lens warps."

"Goddamn it! Delta out."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Crawling in the vents, Drebin heard the commotion of soldiers trying to make their way to the bathroom. Unlike what Spooky had said, there was indeed a way to the bathroom besides the hallway, and Tali had sent it direct to his Automap.<p>

_"Just a few more meters and... there you go."_ she said.

Drebin kicked the grate and leapt down, only to be greeted with a toilet seat to the face. It impacted harmlessly over his titanium shell, and bounced back.

"Oh! Oh god!" screamed Aki, realizing who he was and putting the makeshift weapon down. "I'm so sorry! I thought you were one of them!"

"No harm done. I hear your Totema is giving them hell."

"Well, it won't last, I didn't top off my Drone core's power cell, and it only had a sixty percent charge. It won't last the hour."

"So let's get you... err..." Drebin noticed an unconscious blonde man in a leather coat, snoring soundly. "Who is that guy, and why is he sleeping like a baby?"

"That's... that's Conrad Verner, he's a old friend of mine. These men are after him, and he got into his head that if he gave himself up they'd leave everyone else in peace, so I... kinda panicked and gave him a tranquilizer."

"Not likely. This place has got a fortune in gear locked up. They'd have kept the hostages in case the cops came along while they moved the cargo..."

"I told him so! But... well it's not that simple: the leader of these mercs announced that he'd start killing hostages every half hour until he gave himself up."

"Well shit, you should have let him go, then."

Aki was livid. "I... I couldn't make that kind of judgement call, alright?! There were explosions and gunshots and screaming, and I nearly got caught by a gorilla! And if Hein hadn't got their attention I wouldn't have had time to set up that turret! I was running on more adrenaline than sense, okay?!"

Drebin threw up his hands defensively, resisting the urge to quip that she wound up locking herself in the bathroom. "Okay, okay!... Anyways, it worked out, we tapped the smart-cam feeds, and it looks like no civilians were killed. Looks like their leader got distracted."

Aki was relieved, "Really? Then... good, that's good."

Drebin wisely decided not to mention that Grey was doing the distracting.

"Any ideas as to why a bunch of mercs want your friend dead?"

"I don't know... You'll have to ask him."

"Well, could you wake him up? I got Brea whining in my ear about it."

_**~[h+]~**_

When Grey had been brought to the leader of these mercs, he had not expected mercy. He had managed to kill five of these soldiers with his Omni-Blade before they brought him down, and when he had felt the butt of a rifle smashing against his head he had not expected to wake up. But there he was, being greeted by an old friend. He looked sick and yet monstrous in that Coalition gear, but it was him, no doubt about it... there was no mistaking that voice, like a ghost out of Akuze.

"Toombs..."

"Captain!" he lifted the up by grabbing him beneath the armpits, like a child. "Man, it's a small galaxy! It's good to see you again, sir!"

"I thought... I thought you were dead. That thresher maw..."

"Turns out, it takes a while to get digested by a Thresher maw, especially when you got a couple of millimetres of ceramic plating covering you. But let's not dwell on that... how's the rest of the team?"

"Ryan, Neil and Jane are... doing okay. They're still in the service."

"Gainsborough?"

"No longer in the service... They let her out of the Veteran's hospital just last year. Runs a flower shop in New York with her parents."

"Flowers, huh." Toombs breathed deep, a cold, ragged wheeze. "Flowers, yeah... that's good. That's good... What about Vincent?"

"He... didn't make it."

Toombs face fell. "...and Claire?"

"...She didn't make it either."

"What about Bart, and—"

"They're all gone, Paxton. we are all that's left."

"...I, I kinda hoped that there'd have been more of us left than just five..."

"Six, Toombs. Six. You made it."

"Did I?!" Toombs laughed, his voice sorrowful. "Nah... I died back there, along with the rest."

They reminisced about the good old days, the days before Akuze, and the maws, the days before Mars, when they had been forced to do terrible things to terrible people. In those days, the Deep Eyes had fought through the entire Huffman campaign, liberating it from the Coalition's proxy forces. Those were the good days, when the Deep Eyes' reputation as an Elite unit had peaked, and they had become the Marine Corps go to people for sensitive, covert operations requiring both subtlety and extreme firepower. They had priority for the best training, the best equipment, and fantastic pay.

Toombs and Grey reminisced about the old faces, long buried under red sands and acidic mud. They talked about Claire and her brash attitude, about Tiffany's obsession with punching everything, about Vincent and Hart's need to constantly brood in the corner.

Every face, every name took minutes of speech to do them justice, and every minute was a minute that Toombs didn't use to murder an innocent civilian.

And then they had run out of names, and Toombs began to wonder what he was supposed to be doing.

"Now, where was I?"

"Toombs, I have to know..." asked Grey, trying not to sound too desperate to delay the inevitable massacre. "Why are you doing all this?"

"My quarry taunted me." Toombs answered menacingly. "He thought he could hide from me in a crowd... thought I didn't have what it takes to bring him down, didn't think I had the balls to get my hands dirty. He doesn't know what I'm capable of. Doesn't know what I've been working towards these past six years..."

"Toombs, I'm gonna need some context here. Start from... start from the beginning, okay?"

"...Yeah, yeah okay. Well, after a couple of days of bathing in thresher maw acid, some people cut the Thresher Maw open and fished me out. I thought I was finally saved, you know? Days of screaming into my helmet... but no. These people were not Marines, or Navy, or even civilians looking for something to eat. These people... were with the Alliance. And they wanted me as a test subject. Thought my survival was a miracle, see, wanted to see how much more I could take.

Toombs went on to describe the atrocities he had been forced to endure for months. These Alliance scientists cut him open while he was still conscious, injected doses of thresher maw acid into his veins, and did terrible things to his mind by denying him sleep and testing various sonic pulses on him. They infected him with viruses, then cures, over and over again just to see how much he could take. When he had seen an opportunity to escape, he took it.

"And since then, I've been gathering others to me. Other people with a bone to pick with the Alliance. The Category 6? Ninety percent of the time, it's bullshit, just an excuse to get rid of soldiers who aren't obedient sheep. Since then, I had muttered twelve names before I went to sleep. The names of those who looked and prodded and cut and examined and TAUNTED and LAUGHED. Twelve names, like a prayer: Dawkins, Mercer, Fontaine, Shen, Wilson, Wells, Suresh, Carver, Leland, Porter, Worthington, Tenenbaum."

He took a moment, recalling with delight as they screamed, begged for mercy as he made them suffer. Oh, had he made them suffer... "I took this army of mercenaries and hunted each and everyone of those...BUTCHERS down. Nobody could stand in our way, not the Eclipse, not the Blue Suns. It didn't matter what security they bought. It didn't matter what corner of the galaxy they made their nests. We were unstoppable... until we got to Tenenbaum, and THEY sent their best agent to rescue her."

"Who?" asked Grey.

"Jake Armitage. We had Tenenbaum in our hold, but then he snuck aboard our ship and sabotaged our ship. Killed our only Biotic while he did it, too!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"I just sneezed!" protested Verner. "Then next thing I knew, I hit my head on someone else head, and that someone turned out to be a Biotic, and he fell into the core pit, and he attempted to biotically push himself away from it, and that field interacted with the dark energy containment system in the engine room which led to a destabilized FTL warp field harmonic which led to a structural fault in the core room which lead to cascade failure in the core itself which led to multiple time dilation events that tore the ship apart!"

Aki shook her head at Verner's babbling. "Wait, slow down start from the beginning: how did you get on board a mercenary frigate?"

Conrad took a deep breath. "Okay, well, it was about a year ago. I was on Ontarom's moonbase. You know, the one for the lunar orbit stabilization project? Anyways, I was looking for another Run when this woman calls me up. Apparently, one of my Johnsons referred her to me, figured I could protect her from some bad people that were after her. Anyhoo, I report to the meeting place and it turns out she's gone. Complete no-show! I was kinda feeling sorry for myself at that point, since I haven't managed to get a good Run in a while, so I drowned my sorrows at the bar. And then, this really nice guy was looking for anyone with experience handling FTL drives. I told him I had a degree in Dark Energy theory, and then he offered me a ride on his ship. Apparently he thought I was a ship's engineer, because I was told to report to the engine room."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Bastard insinuated himself in my ship's crew," continued Toombs. "He sabotaged our starboard fusion drive, first—"

_**~[h+]~**_

"—I told them I had no business handling Helium-3 cells!" protested Verner. "But they wouldn't listen!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Then, he vented our rations into deep space, forcing us to resupply at the nearest planet."

_**~[h+]~**_

"I told them I had never fixed a cargo bay console before! I can barely run the macros on my Omni-Tool, let alone fix electronics!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"And then he manipulated the FTL drive to somehow create a warp field that made the starboard fusion drive explode, capitalizing on his earlier sabotage! It was a master stroke! We were lucky to come of that alive!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"If I hadn't been there to minimize the Dark Energy eddies, nobody on that ship would have escaped to the pods! If it hadn't been for that cheap fusion drive, I might have been able to save the whole ship, too!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"And then... From what I've been told from my men, he made off with Tenenbaum in an escape pod, and that's the last I saw of her."

_**~[h+]~**_

"I was frantically trying to find an escape pod when I tripped and fell, and oh! Get this! Tenenbaum was on the ship, too! Imagine that coincidence! Anyhoo, I tripped, and fell, and hit my head, and Tenenbaum finds me and drags me to the nearest escape pod. We crashed onto a planet we were orbiting for some reason. I poked my head out, and I saw water as far as my eyes could see. Then Tenenbaum pulls me back into the pod and, err..." Conrad had a stupidly happy look on his face. "She said she was happy to be alive. Said I earned my pay and then some."

Aki crossed her arms and glared at him. "Uh-huh."

"And that's when the fishing boat full of Fiera found us!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Seven million platinum's worth of hardware, Grey! That's nothing, NOTHING compared to denying me the final piece of my revenge! I've been tracking him down for the past year, and I've managed to finally corner one of these so called 'Johnsons' he's been using as a network of spies, and he gave me his account number. I've tracked his purchases across the entire Traverse, even the Terminus, but I just couldn't catch up to him! And then, I decided to use his greed against him. I posted a job on that extranet site he uses to get work, and came up with some dumb story about a Red Sand dealership. He took the job, but he failed to report in!"

Grey winced, realizing who this 'Jake Armitage' really was. "...Really? I err, can't imagine why."

"He smelled a trap, that's why! But then he had the balls to stay on the planet and take it easy in this place! I saw a chance to finally put an end to this hunt, and I took it! Consequences be damned!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Mind explaining to me what's this nonsense about Runs, Runners, and Johnsons?" asked Drebin.<p>

"Oh!" Conrad apologized and proceeded to explain. "Well, you see..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Wait... give me a moment to process this." said Jensen. "Are you telling me Conrad LARP'ed his way throughout the Terminus systems and inadvertently created a network for freelance mercenaries?!"<p>

"Well, from what I've been able to piece together..." Hein smiled. "Yep, that's it exactly. So you see, Jensen, this is all his fault. Not. Mine. So there."

"I...I just..."

_"Imagine my own shock,"_ transmitted Brea. _"From what heard I of him, I was expecting Jake Armitage to be a far more intimidating figure than some... bumbling scientist with a coat made to make him look larger than he really is."_

"...Just... what?!"

_"Yes well, don't just stand there. Drebin just reported he can't extract Verner and Ross through the air vent. He's trapped and barricaded the door, but once that turret Ross set up runs out of power the soldiers are going to pour through."_

"Err... right, Hein and I are headed there right now."

_**~[h+]~**_

Hein and Jensen peeked around the corner, taking stock of the situation. The eight soldiers (not counting the downed sniper) waited patiently in cover while the Specialist threw drone after drone into the Totema's firing range, hoping to wear it out eventually. They were succeeding: The Totema's electro-laser was getting noticeably weaker.

While Jensen breached their suits comms, he tried to formulate a plan to take the mercs out as quickly and as quietly as possible, but since Ryan told him those helmets would spot him, approaching cloaked was out of the question. The Commando would see him and blast his face away with their shotguns — which, he noted, had their interface holograms warning them that Incineration rounds were loaded. Not a good idea to take these guys on in close quarters.

"Damn, I wish I had some concussion bombs for my Typhoon." murmured Jensen. "Could just run up to them and take them all out. Speaking of which, why did you plug them with silver plates?"

"Oh, I didn't plug them, I removed them entirely." Hein murmured back.

"You... you what?!"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"Why did you do that?"

"Well, you weren't using them at all! Those things were empty space inside your arms: Dead weight! Structural weaknesses!"

"Goddammit Hein, what else did you—"

"—Later, later! Right now we have a few bad guys to deal with."

"Fine." Jensen finished Breaching the last of the soldiers. "Well, got any ideas? We need to take these men out quickly: They've got incendiaries, and if they get a chance to shoot back we're toast."

"Well, I still have that cardboard box with me..."

"For the last time, I am NOT getting in that thing with you... And what are you doing carrying that thing around, anyways?"

Hein grinned. "It's a useful infiltration tool! Most security VI's don't know what to make of a box on two legs! It also makes for a perfect trap: Nobody can resist taking a peek into one!"

"Yeah, well, I think these humans are smart enough to shoot a box that's slowly creeping up on them."

"Hm... wait, they're wearing Alliance C6 Tactical Helmets, right? I have an idea..." he spoke into his Omni-Tool. "Ms. Zorah? Do you have access to the lights?"

_**~[h+]~**_

The squad of mercs were getting ready to storm the women's bathroom. The Totema's power cell was running low, and soon they'd be able to make whoever set it up pay for their grief. Bonus, if they just might finally be able to catch Armitage and make him pay for the loss of the Vengeance.

Then, the lights went out, and in the moment that it took for the squad leader to order his teammates to switch on their night vision, a cardboard box had appeared in the middle of their formation. They huddled around, staring at it in confusion."

"It's... It's a box." said one of the Specialists.

"Well, no shit, Sherlock!" said the Heavy squad leader. "Well, what's in it?"

"...I don't detect explosives," said the Specialist, scanning the box with his Omni-Tool, its scans unable to penetrate the cardboard shell. "But..."

"Open it, then!"

"Okay, okay... hey! Free gun!"

The best bait for a trap was something that aroused curiosity, and the CAT6 mercs had fallen prey to it hard. The Specialist picked up what was inside the box, an Argus Assault rifle that was rigged to overheat once the ID lock was triggered. The heat detonated the concussion round loaded into the underslung mini-grenade launcher, and the bright flash caused their optics to short out.

In a panic, those that didn't fall unconscious from the blast frantically grabbed at their helmets to open the faceplates, and by the time one of them managed to do it, Adam and Hein had knocked out seven of them. The last man standing tried to level his SMG at his attackers in the dark, hoping the gunblasts would illuminate them. But the last thing the merc saw in the staccato light was the face of a grinning madman with big circular black eyes before he could feel his arm break and his body hitting the floor hard.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Lights back on, miss Zorah... If you would be so kind?" said Hein as he pulled off his goggles. The warm lights activated, and Hein admired his handiwork. He had managed to take down three of the men, while Jensen had quickly taken care of five of them. The Cyborg cop secured the fallen mercs with Omni-Cuffs, and inspected their weapons for something he could use. All he could find was a Silencer, a modified Carnifex designed for stealth ops. Perfect for Jensen, if lethal force was ever called for.

"You know," Hein said, as he folded the cardboard box and put it in his coat. You are strong enough to carry a few more weapons around."

"I know, but try sneaking around with a full arsenal strapped on your back. Augs or no, encumbrance is encumbrance... speaking of which, what else did you do to me?"

"Well, the modifications to your hacking modules, you already know about. Once I had those Typhoon launchers removed, I replaced them with Eezo cores. Much more useful. Potentially."

"Eezo cores? What, did you think I was going to magically become a Biotic?" As he uttered the words, Jensen realized that Hein had succeeded: in his earlier confrontation with the Justicar, Jensen had felt his mass become null, and his step forward became instantaneous, bringing him close enough to land a punch in her face and ending the fight before it could really begin. Having eezo cores in his arms certainly explained things.

"Well yes, actually, although I suspect we'll need a biotic expert to help you use them. Also, I completely replaced all of your myomer bundles with the CNT cables salvaged from one of the three Templar suits you and the Deep Eyes took out in the Undercity, though I had to reduce the electrical output of your limbs so you didn't punch everything to oblivion. Speaking of which: watch your diet. I also modified your joints with frictionless materials and bucky gel so that they can withstand additional stress. And finally... I removed those STUPID, silly arm blades of yours."

"Hey, I needed those!"

"Pfft! As impressive as those blades were, fitting them inside your forearms caused all sorts of structural issues, which led to the curved phased titanium rods snapping under the strain of punching that Wanzer's head in. A straight, thicker rod of the same material would have withstood the stress... a mistake which I corrected, by the by, so punch away! And besides, I bolted on smaller versions of the Fandango onto your forearms." He tapped and traced a line on his forearm, between the elbow and the wrist. "Just as discreet as your nano-ceramics and you get the benefits of a high-frequency blade made out of programmable matter at half the weight!"

Jensen could barely contain his outrage. "...You had no right!"

"I know." Hein smiled smugly. "That's why I had Vakarian **give** me the right."

That took Jensen by surprise. "...What?"

"You were in a coma. I had no way of getting any sort of consent except from your next of kin. Since you don't have a next of kin, I went for the next best thing: your partner. And once I told him that I could either make you better, faster and stronger, or leave you crippled and broken, guess what he decided to have me do? If you want to bellyache at anyone, speak to him once this is all over. Now, Dr. Ross is waiting for a rescue. Shall we go?"

_**~[h+]~**_

Toombs ranted and raved some more, going on about how he'd torture Jake slowly for ruining him, for ruining his final chance at vengeance. Once he stopped, he started to wonder if there was something he should be doing, such as killing hostages, and Grey diverted his attention again.

"Now, where was I?" said the disturbed soldier.

"You..." Grey hesitated, at a loss for subjects to distract him. "You were telling me why you were taking hostages... How you knew Armitage was here?"

Now that Grey thought about it, pointing out the flaws in Toombs' plans may not have been the smartest thing to do. Toombs mind processed Grey's words, realized where they would take him, and shook his head in denial.

"He has to be here!" Toombs raved. "HE HAS TO BE HERE! He's soft! He won't let civilians die! He's going to come out, sooner or later! He has to! And then... and then..."

"And then what, Toombs? You kill him? What's that going to accomplish? I thought you were supposed to find Tenenbaum, whatever happened to that?"

"No. No no NO! NO! I HAVE to kill him. Don't your understand?! I HAVE TO KILL HIM!.. Tenebaum... she's gone, gone, gone GONE FOREVER. THEY hid her, THEY swept her tracks away. But Jake's their best agent, and once I have him in my grasp, I'll be able to tear down the walls of LIES they built around themselves and finally truly hurt them! They won't be able to ignore me anymore!"

"Who's they? The Alliance? Toombs, the Alliance are our allies, they wouldn't—"

"I'm not talking about the Alliance! I'm talking about them, THEM, **THEM! **The ones behind Mars, the ones behind Akuze, the ones behind EVERYTHING."

"Who, Toombs? Do you even know?"

"Nobody can know! They're invisible, above and below us, pulling our strings, hiding behind half-truths and puppet agents! They have no name, because a name, a logo, gives them an identity by which they can be tracked! They hide, but they have a scent and... and..."

"Toombs?"

"Where was I?" asked Toombs, looking for a brief moment like a child lost in a crowd.

"...You were trying to remember who you were, Toombs." said Grey.

"...Was I? Who was I, Grey?"

"You were a gallant soldier that protected the innocent from the threat of invasion, you fought hard to liberate an entire island, and fought harder to keep raiders from raping and pillaging. You had nothing but loathing and scorn for terrorists that preyed on civilians."

Toombs said nothing.

"Toombs, this is crazy. If you're right about Jake, then he would have given himself up, and if you're not, then he's already escaped."

"No. No no no no he's here, I know that he's here—"

"But what if you're wrong? What if you make good on your threat and he still doesn't come? You'll have killed these people for nothing. Let these people go. Leave. Give it up."

"I can't give up. I will NEVER give up. They all deserved to die. Every last one of them. They deserved to die..." Toombs' stare became blank. "I... where was I?"

"Toombs?"

"Right, I have to..." he addressed the four soldiers flanking his old comrade. "Take the prisoner to the locker room. In 30 minutes, we start killing hostages."

"Paxton! Don't do this!"

It was no use, Toombs was hellbent on this path, and no amount of pleading from his old friend would stop him.

_**~[h+]~**_

Once Ross and Verner were safe and sound at the security room (Jensen had to secure a path there by taking down a patrol), Aya had sent both Adam and Drebin down to the locker room at basement level 1 while Ryan, clad in a suit of CAT6 Defender armour, would head to the lobby and extract Veetor and Neil under the pretext of moving them elsewhere. Hein had insisted on accompanying Jensen, intent on helping getting his men out.

_"The Mercenary leader is done talking to Grey,"_ transmitted Brea. _"And it seems they're taking him elsewhere... Somewhere close to the lobby, if not the lobby itself."_

_"Want me to intercept them?"_ transmitted Ryan. _"I'm almost there."_

_"Yes!"_ shouted Aki into Brea's mic. _"Save him!"_

_"No!"_ shouted Brea. _"Give me back the mic, blast you!... Ahem. Ryan, do **not** intercept, proceed as planned. Jensen, Drebin and Hein will secure the locker room and free Jane and Garrus. We'll deal with Grey later."_

_"Jensen here. Ross? Don't worry, we're not going to abandon Grey, but we can't afford to alert the entire place just yet."_

The locker room was being patrolled by six armed mercs, in routes that allowed them to keep an eye on themselves, the thirty or so unconscious members of the security staff, a dozen players, and Garrus and Jane.

Every hostage in the room had been bound, gagged, and as an added insult their pants were pulled down around their ankles, preventing them from simply darting out and making a run for it. Jane and Garrus were spared that embarrassment. Mostly because they were naked.

"So why are that latina chick and the kittybird buck naked?" Jensen overheard one of the mercs ask.

"Latina? She looks Israeli to me."

"Whatever. So why is she naked?"

"Well, turns out these two were getting it on in the shower."

"No shit?"

"No shit. I was there when we busted into their stall. Took them a while to even stop and realize they had guns pointed at them."

"Didn't they worry about getting caught? Those showers don't look that private and that... whatever she is looks like a screamer."

"Part of the thrill, I guess."

"Such a waste. Fine ass like that is wasted on a Turian."

"Let the aliens have her. Too butch for my tastes."

_Goddammit, Garrus!_ Thought Jensen as he, Drebin and Hein made their way unseen into the locker room through the vents. Jensen hijacked the mercs' comms, and the three infiltrators slowly and quietly took them down one by one. The last one, realizing that his friends were gone, frantically tried to call for help to no avail, before Jensen shoved his Stunner onto the merc's neck seal and rendered him unconscious. Jensen was just about to free his friend when Aya called in.

"Jensen! The four mercs are taking Grey to the locker room. They'll be there in 30 seconds!"

"Why didn't they use the locker room's access to the Octagon?! It's right there!"

"Who cares?! Hide!"

Hein and Drebin, having heard that, quickly hid as many of the unconscious mercs as they could and hid, waiting for a chance to strike. Garrus and Jane tried to get them to free them first, but they were still gagged.

"...do you follow him?" asked Grey, as he entered the locker room. "He's obviously out of his mind."

"Maybe. But he pays well." said the Heavy.

"And that's all it takes for you to follow him in this insanity?"

"YOU try getting work once you get slapped with a Category 6! Money may not mean much to you, soldier boy, but we gotta eat, we gotta survive, and Paxton gave us that and a purpose in life. So yeah, that's all he really had to do to get me to follow him. Now shut up and—" The Heavy looked around, and warily activated his Omni-Shield.

Jensen Breached him first, knowing that he'd be the first to call it in. The rest came later, and when he was finished the Heavy and two Commandos went into the locker rooms while a Specialist stayed with Grey. Finding no one, the Heavy ungagged one of the players and tried to interrogate him.

"A-all I saw was some guy in a trench coat dragging bodies, man! He was as silent as a ghost!"

That was all the Heavy heard before Jensen punched him in the head.

The two commandos fell shortly after, and the Specialist, greatly underestimating what Grey could do with his legs free, was beaten within an inch of his life.

"It's good to see you, sir." said Grey as Hein cut his bonds.

"Semper Fi," said Hein.

"Sir, we need to talk. The mercenary leader... it's Toombs."

"I... see."

_**~[h+]~**_

While Hein and Grey spoke, Jensen freed Garrus and Jane, while Drebin brought them their clothes.

"So," asked Jensen. "Is this going to be a thing? You getting caught, stripped naked, tied up, then needing me to rescue your naked ass?"

Garrus, as always, couldn't help but quip. "Hey, at least I didn't get tortured this time. So... Progress!"

"Sure. And uh... you and Jane?"

"Heh... you heard those two guys talking, huh?"

"Yep. Didn't think you were into humans."

"Neither did I, but it turns out I've got a thing for strong human women who can kick my ass. Who knew?"

"And... you just had to have her right away?"

"More like she had to have me right away... heh heh. But to say anymore would be un-gentlemanly."

Adam glared at his partner disapprovingly.

"Hey now, don't give me that look! How was I supposed to know a bunch of terrorists would barge in and take the place over?"

Adam sighed, and got to work on freeing the civilians.

_**~[h+]~**_

Once Ryan had Neil and Veetor in 'custody', Aya told him to report to the locker room immediately. There, the three of them joined a huddle, and Ryan gave the rest of the Deep Eyes their handguns and Omni-Tools back, having made a side trip to the weapons locker near the entrance. A tiny hologram of Brea was being emitted from Hein's Omni-Tool, and both she and Grey brought everyone up to speed on the situation while Jensen convinced the conscious hostages to stay put, and not attempt any heroics. Apparently, they thought playing video games made them expert combatants. Jensen disabused them of that idea quickly.

Neil, Jane and Ryan were shocked at the news that one of their own had survived Akuze. "I didn't even recognize the guy." said Ryan. "He looked so... so ill."

"He's pretty ill up there," said Neil, pointing at his head. "From what the Cap'n just told us."

Jane threw him a dirty look. "Neil." she forced the words out with her teeth bared.

"What?" Neil protested. "Look at what he's doing! He took over an entire building and is threatening to kill thousands of people to smoke out this Armitage guy, whom he's not even sure is actually in the building! Face it, the man's gone section eight!"

Grey brought his foot down. "Look, it doesn't matter. We've got about 20 minutes left to prevent him from doing something unforgivable. We're lucky we've got no civilian fatalities yet, but we need a plan of action."

_"I take it we're not going to simply leave this to the police?" _asked the tiny Brea hologram.

"Hells no!" protested Garrus. "Illium police will just pay these assholes to go away."

_"And I suppose giving Verner to Toombs is out of the question, as well? I mean, Aki just had to sedate him again because that's precisely what he wants."_

"You supposed correctly." said Jensen, tersely.

"Well..." Garrus considered the idea, but a quick stare from Jensen shut him up. "Okay, okay..."

"Toombs might interrogate Conrad long enough for us to mount a rescue..."

"No." Grey shook his head. "Neil is right: Toombs is not stable. He might lose it upon seeing Conrad and god knows what he'll do then. Not an option."

Brea huffed, not happy about them not taking a more practical solution. _"Fine, then. I have a plan. Ryan?"_

"Yo."

_"Head to the basement level 2, there is a group of Specialists trying to get a new batch of security mechs working. You'll take Veetor to them under the pretext of being sent by Toombs to fix the problem. Veetor?"_

"Er...y-yes?"

_"Tali'Zorah tells me you're better at hacking mechs than she is. You will alter their IFF recognition drivers to attack CAT6 mercenaries with their built-in PEPS once I signal them on codec frequency 065.1. Both of you, go. Now."_

Ryan threw a look at Hein, who simlpy nodded his approval. He nodded back put the CAT6 helmet on, and tapped Veetor's shoulder. "Alright, little man, let's go." And the two men left.

_"As for the rest of you, you all need much better gear than what the CAT6 are fielding if you're going to take on Toombs' Wanzer..."_

"Wait, Wanzer?" Neil was aghast. "Nobody said anything about Wanzers!"

_"That's because Toombs' men just found Armax's dirty little secret: The Arena wasn't pulling in as many spectators, and Armax was busy converting the Basement level into a Wanzer Hangar, and host Wanzer battles to pull in the crowds. There's two elevator shafts that go from Basement Level 4 to the Octagon, and one of them will arrive up there... well, now."_

Brea showed them a video feed:

_**~[h+]~**_

Toombs stepped into the waiting Frost M6, and started the boot up sequence. He smiled wickedly. Originally he was just going to get his men to shoot up the crowd, but with this six meter tall war machine's two Leo Social mk IV 5mm autocannons, he could just kill everyone in the arena with a sustained burst of fire. The carnage would be bloody, and it would be Armitage's fault. It would be all their fault.

"Where was I?... Ah, I remember." Toombs shouted in his mic, transmitting across the entire building. "Armitaaaaaaage? Are you there? I know you're there. You've got twenty-five minutes leeeeft!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Oh, fuck all kinds of ducks." swore Jane.

Garrus' mandibles twitched nervously. "I think I'm going to need something bigger than an Anti-Materiel rifle to take THAT down."

_"Jensen?" _continued Brea._ "You and Drebin will proceed to the weapon's vault in level B2 while the Deep Eyes disguise themselves as CAT6 mercenaries. Neutralize any CAT6's in there. Drebin? You'll prep as many weapons as you can, take a few explosives, and trap..."_

An obviously incomplete Hologram of Basement level 4 appeared over Hein's hand. "This place. This is the CAT6's most likely escape route should the police somehow arrive in force: the small, underground cargo train station Armax uses to move goods between the Arena and the Spaceport. The mercenaries haven't started to move their loot there yet, but they soon will. Hurry."

Drebin and Jensen left, leaving the Deep Eyes, Hein, and Garrus left. "Once you're all properly outfitted, this is what you'll do: Garrus and Neil will make their way to the ceiling walkways and replace the snipers nesting in the walkways. I've sent Zev to take care of them already, so they won't give you much trouble."

"Zev?" Neil tilted his head sideways. "What can he possibly do?"

Brea ignored him. _"Jane, Grey and Ryan will secure the lobby. Once the fighting starts, this will be the way the spectators will escape. Make sure nobody can bar their way."_

"Are there any other Wanzers in storage in B4?" asked Grey. "I might be able to use one to stop Toombs."

"Maybe. The Wanzer bay is not shown on the security system's maps, and most of B4's smart-cams are on a different circuit entirely. I'll have Jensen take a look."

_**~[h+]~**_

In the mech storage bay, Specialist Burns was, at that particular moment, not a happy man.

One hundred mechs stood in their docks, asleep. They were a recent addition to the Arena, purchased from Serrice Robotics after a particularly unpleasant riot in order to provide extra security and crowd-control. They were fresh off the assembly line, unused, but for the life of him Burns couldn't get them to move.

Those damned Asari mechs had the most convoluted security programming ever made, but Toombs wanted those mechs on patrol and set to shoot cops, rent-a-cops, and intruders yesterday. But Burns didn't have the software, hardware, or the know-how to get Asari made mechs to do what he wanted, and threw his hands up in the air in frustration once his macros failed once again to alter the Mechs' programming.

"Goddammit! This is what happens when you don't plan a heist properly!" complained Burns. This whole mission was FUBAR, and while things were doing well so far, with the prize vault cracked open and the cops not being here yet, he knew their luck wouldn't hold. They were here too long, and Armitage was a no-show, but Toombs just didn't want to leave. Damn him and damn his revenge!

He heard the hiss of a door, and saw one of those Heavy meatheads barge in with a Quarian in tow, of all things. That put him on edge.

"What the **fuck** are you doing here?"

"We found this Quarian skulking about." replied the Heavy. "Toombs figured he could help you get the ball rolling on those mechs. You know them doglegs: tech wizards, every single one of them. Am I right?"

"Job-stealing assholes, more like." grumbled Burns. "But fuck it, I'm out of ideas."

The heavy shoved the Quarian onto the console, and Burns levelled a pistol at the Quarian's head.

"You try anything funny? I blow your head off."

Burns was a smart man, but not smart enough to tell when a Quarian used to working with mechs sneaked in a few lines of malicious code into the Mech's VI. And if he had paid closer attention, he would have known that the Quarian was also making sure that Burns wouldn't be able to operate that console. When the machines sprang to life, the Quarian, following instructions from a woman speaking into his ear, had the mechs move out and stay close to every CAT6 patrol he was told of.

Satisfied at the Quarian's work, Burns let the alien go. "Take him back upstairs," he ordered the Heavy. He reported his success to Toombs, and was quick to take all the credit for himself.

Once he and the Quarian were out of earshot, the Heavy spoke into his helmet's built-in headset. "Ryan here. Veetor worked his magic, and the mechs are moving out."

_**~[h+]~**_

_"Gotta say, so far Mrs. Bubble butt's plan is going off pretty well." _said Jane over the comms._ "Pretty smart for a sex bot. Ooh, heat knife."_

_"You think that butt is bubbly?"_ replied Neil over the channel._ "I thought it looked pretty firm."_

_"Before you two go on debating the viscosity of my arse," said Brea, listening in on their conversation. "do keep in mind that we still have fifty mercenaries and a Wanzer to deal with, yes? Now get back to work."_

_"...Sounds like a pretty hard ass to me." _quipped Garrus.

_"Heyoooooooooo...!"_ Jane and Neil jeered in unison.

If Brea's seething hatred could have been transmitted over the wireless, she could have killed them all with it_. "I. hate. you. all."_

_"Cut the chatter, **all** of you." _ordered Grey.

With 10 minutes left on Toombs' clock, Brea's plan had indeed gone off without any problems so far. The Deep Eyes were outfitting themselves, and Drebin had rigged up a few wire traps attached to concussion bombs, guaranteed to knock out a few dozen mercs before even one out of them could reach the train. Jensen, as Aya insisted, investigated B4 a bit more thoroughly, evading the smart-cams that Tali couldn't control.

As it turned out, the fourth basement level was actually built some 40 meters below the main floor, in order for the Arena to have access to the cargo monorail network Nos Astra used to keep goods moving. Thankfully for Jensen and Drebin, the elevators were built with linear motors, and the ride down was fairly quick.

Adam came across the underground Wanzer hangar, and what he saw took his breath away_. _Sleeping giants of metal, at least twenty of them, were interred here. These were old machines, a century out of date, but if Armax had its way they would come back to life, and fight for the amusement of the crowds.

_"Guys? I'm seeing at least twenty wanzers, all of a different model."_

_"Really?" _transmitted Grey_. "Can you describe them to me?"_

_"I've got one that's got this... huge cube for a chest, with big arms and thickplates bolted on the thighs."_

_"That's a Grapple. Yeah, I think I can handle that. Change of plans. I'm coming down. Ryan, Jane? Think you can handle the lobby by yourselves?"_

_"No worries, sir." _transmitted Ryan._ "Those wannabes are going to see what REAL marines can do."_

_"Grey?" _asked Brea over the comms._ "What are you doing?"_

_"There's nothing in the Vault that can bring down Toombs' Frost in time: No GEPs, no LAMs, nothing besides those Anti-materiel rifles. If I take him on in a one-on-one fight, then Garrus and Neil will be able to focus on taking out the Mercs guarding the hostages instead of trying to damage an AFV."_

_"...Fine. Do remember that the Octagon is only eight meters deep. Try to keep him from firing above the walls and all should be well."_

_"Cap'n?" _asked Neil. _"Want us to trade in the Krysae rifles in favor of the Punishers?"_

_"Keep one, just in case; but yeah, go for some anti-personnel gear."_

_"Roger that."_

_"Jensen? Wait for me, I'm just out of the elevator. Don't shoot, I'm in disguise as a Commando."_

Jensen waited in the shadows, and once he saw a CAT6 merc in a Commando outfit come through the large double doors, he waited for Grey's confirmation.

_"Coming through the Wanzer Bay's entrance..."_

Jensen got out of cover and revealed himself. "Grey, pick a ride, we haven't got long until..."

_"...right about— oh, SHIT!"_

"Who the fuck are you?!" said the real CAT6 merc who Jensen had mistaken for Grey. He leveled his shotgun at his head, and called Toombs. "Boss! I got a man in a trenchcoat— urk!"

Grey bashed the back of the man's head with the butt of his Crossfire VII assault rifle, hoping for a quiet takedown, but it was too late. The report had been made, and the Commando's dropping vitals had alerted everyone on the level that they were under attack. It wasn't long before the mercs on the level — all thirty of them — moved in, and engaged Jensen and Grey in a firefight.

_**"Squads Gamma and Theta, converge on B4! They found Armitage! THEY FOUND HIM! HOLD HIM OFF! I'M COMING DOWN!"**_

At the sound of the Wanzer elevator coming down, Jensen and Grey stared at each other, their horror apparent in their eyes despite being hidden.

_**~[h+]~**_

Two thirds of the way up to the ceiling access, Garrus tried to turn around and come to his friend's rescue, but Neil stopped him. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"I'm going in to save my—"

"Shit, man, I can't take out that many mercs fast enough on my own! They'll start wasting civilians any time now!"

_"Garrus!"_ shouted Jensen over the comms. _"Me and Grey are going to be fine! You stick to the plan!"_

"But..."

_"Go!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

Jensen shot a Commando in the kneecaps, and when a heavy tried to recover his comrade and pull him behind cover, Grey fired a burst into the merc's Omni-Shield's slot, killing the large man. Twenty-six more to go, Grey thought. Fourteen on the ground, and twelve taking position on the walkways. This can't continue.

"Jensen, take my assault rifle!" Grey threw his weapon at the cyborg, who caught it effortlessly. "I'm going to hijack this Wanzer! Cover me!"

"I'll try!"

"Don't try, DO it, soldier!" While Jensen turned invisible and suppressed the enemy, Grey ran up the steps of the Wanzer's maintenance bay. Grey had hoped to get his hands on a Grapple to overpower Toombs' Frost, but seeing as he was under fire, the Zenith L7 would have to do the trick. It was, quite frankly, fairly outdated hardware propped up with modern electronics, no doubt bought for a handful of platinum from OCU military surplus. Grey hoped Toombs was in an equally outdated machine, or they were all screwed.

Grey stabbed the Specialist guarding the machine in the head with his Omni-Blade, climbed into the cockpit, and started the boot-up sequence.

"Jensen! It's going to take me a few minutes to get this thing working!"

_"You've got 30 seconds!"_ warned Brea over the wireless. _"Toombs is almost down!"_

Brea was wrong, in truth they had even less than that: The Frost came down, and scanned the area for a man in a trenchcoat. He locked on to the EM signature of a cloak, and while the EM imaging system was not in color, Toombs' broken mind filled in the gaps: He saw a smug, classically handsome blonde man sneering at him, killing his men with impunity.

The sight drove Toombs into a black rage, and he began to fire the Leo Socials, first at the EM spectre, then the other Wanzers, then his own men. It didn't matter what: something needed to die. Anything!

They all had to die. They all had to die.

**"ARMITAAAAAAAAAAGE!"** screamed the broken soldier.

_**~[h+]~**_

"Garrus here! We're almost in position." Garrus and Neil burst through the ceiling walkway access with their Punishers drawn, and once they saw the Snipers were still very much in place, they took aim and shot two of them in their heads. When the other two snipers failed to react, Garrus silently ordered Neil to hold his fire while he investigated.

The Snipers were already dead, their throats cut, their hands tied to their weapons with rope.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. And here I went through the trouble of making it look like they were still alive." said Zev behind Garrus.

Garrus jumped. "Gah! Don't sneak up on a man like that!"

"Did you... did you do all this?" asked Neil, disbelieving and a little afraid.

"Yes. Not my best work, though..."

"Well... good, that's good I guess. Neil to Bubble Butt? We're in position."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Goddammit, NO! I do NOT want to go into tutorial mode you stupid piece of crap!" Grey shouted angrily, as the unmistakable report of 5mm Leo Socials could be heard outside the cockpit. "Jensen! Are you alright?!"

_"Oh yeah! Good times!"_ replied Jensen, more than a bit sarcastic. _"Toombs just killed his own men trying to shoot me!"_

"Just keep him away from the Zenith! I need more time!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"Zorah?" asked Brea. "Are the security mechs in place?"

"Most of them are!" replied the Quarian. "But 20 are still moving into place!"

"That will have to do. Send them the signal!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"JAAAAKE!" screamed Toombs out of the Frost's speakers once he had calmed down. He stomped around, the Frost's single head cam scanning the bullet riddled area for his prey. "Enough of this game! Face me! Or I'll murder every—"

_"Toombs!"_ screamed one of his squad leaders over the TAC COM. _"The mechs! The mechs are attacking us with their PEPS!"_

"Then shoot them back!" Toombs roared.

_"That's what we're doing, but—"_

_"...Sir? Sir, where are you going?"_ droned the pleasant, female synthetic voice over the squad leader's mic.

"Oh shit! Shoot it! Shoot—" the Squad leader's voice became nothing but static as the TAC COM reported his vitals dropping.

"Sir?! This is Porter! We're getting sniped from the ceiling! We're pinned down!"

_"Alans here! We're losing the lobby! Some crazy bitch with a knife is killing my men! She's wearing— urk!"_

Toombs just cackled insanely. "I take it that's your doing, Jake?! I expected no less from the man who managed to blow up my ship... But you played your hand too quick. I still have a knife on the throat of everyone on the main floor, and now that you've made it clear you won't face justice for what you've done to me, I'm going to put their blood on your hands! Toombs to every CAT6! Kill..."

_**~[h+]~**_

_"Brea to Spooky, kill their frequency."_

_"Roger that."_

_**~[h+]~**_

"...the hostages! Kill everyone not wearing our colors!"

No reply. The TAC COM's feed went silent. Either all of his men had been killed in an instant, or they abandoned him._  
><em>

"...Jake."

Toombs found the little trench coat wearing bastard behind a stack of crates and fired at it. While the shots didn't quite penetrate, they knocked the whole stack down onto him.

"Jaaake..."

Toombs kicked the stack away, revealing the shape of a man in the darkness, lying down, barely conscious. Anyone could see that it wasn't quite the right man, but Toombs was beyond caring, at that point.

"Nicely played. Jake. Nicely played. I was going to toss you in a cell and torture the names out of you... but now..." The Frost's foot rose over the man in the coat. "Oh ho ho, you're just too much trouble. Say goodnight!"

**__~[h+]~__**

Before Toombs could crush his 'nemesis' once and for all, Grey's Zenith dashed forward with its linear skates and tackled the Frost down, saving Jensen from certain death. Toombs' fought back by kicking the OCU machine away and firing a burst from its Leo Socials at it, but the Zenith was right back in close quarters, wrestling the guns away from it while it kneed the Frost in the chest, hoping the impact would somehow knock Toombs unconscious. Seeing as Toombs was wearing power armor, it was a waste of time.

Grey knew he could finish this whenever he wanted: just line up the pile bunker on the Zenith's right arm with the Frost's cockpit and pull the trigger, and that would be that. He fought his instinct to kill his old comrade even as the Frost overpowered him and pushed him against a support pillar, breaking it apart. Grey recovered, and renewed his onslaught of punches, hoping to break the Wanzer's VI core.

"Toombs!" he screamed over the Zenith's speaker. "It's over! My men have secured both the hostages and the lobby! The hostages are running out as we speak, and the police will soon be here! Surrender!"

"YOU! FILTHY! TRAITOR!" replied Toombs. "LET ME KILL JAKE!" Toombs willed his Frost to let go of one of the Leo Socials and punch the Zenith in the cockpit. It held fast, but Grey felt that one. Toombs tried it again, and Grey countered with a throw against the Hangar's wall. That brought a large portion of concrete rubble down on the hangar's exit. Grey executed another throw, bringing the Frost down on the ground and pining it there.

"Jake Armitage isn't here! He doesn't even exist! Toombs! For god's sake, STAND DOWN! Don't make me kill you!"

"I HAVE to kill them all! Don't you understand?! They deserve to die! They ALL DESERVE TO DIE!" With renewed fury, Toombs made his Frost rise and overpower the Zenith — an easy feat, since its engine and mass were superior — and pushed it onto one of the Wanzer elevator cages and punched the switch on, ensuring a one way trip.

"Toombs! Toombs! Noooooo...!" Grey's voice faded as his machine headed up into the Arena. Toombs looked frantically for his quarry, and found it on the other elevator cage.

"Oh, no you don't..." he grinned menacingly.

**__~[h+]~__**

Feeling like a piano had been dropped on him, Jensen woke to the sound of clanging metal and the frantic shouts of Tali, Brea, and Garrus over the wireless. They all begged him to run, since he was no match against a Wanzer without the 108. And since someone had seen fit to block off the only exit out with concrete rubble, Jensen had seen the elevator Toombs came down on as his only possible avenue of escape. He had quietly ran there and worked the controls while Grey was busy fighting the insane mercenary leader. His Sentinel healing system kicked in, removing the fog from his mind. Just as he thought he was headed to relative safety, the elevator came to a sudden screeching halt just as he reached the Wanzer hangar's ceiling. He spotted four huge mechanical fingers clinging to the edge of the elevator, and he felt the elevator lurch downwards.

Toombs was bringing him back down.

"Jensen!" shouted Brea. "There's a ladder to your left! Take it now! Zorah! Increase power to that elevator, don't let Toombs get on it!"

"I'm trying!"

Jensen darted for the ladder, and jumped onto it just it in time before Toombs' Frost brought the elevator crashing down, breaking its moorings to the linear rails. Jensen thanked whatever powers watched over him for those ladder climbing drills back in SWAT, otherwise Toombs would have just reached up and swatted him like an insect.

"ARMITAAAAAAGE!" screamed Toombs, as the Frost grabbed a metal beam, then another, and started to climb its way up, it's single, glowing red eye transfixed on Jensen.

"Aw, crap." Jensen hurried his climbing. Just twelve stories, he reminded himself. Just twelve stories to climb.

Toombs roared again, and the Frost's pace accelerated. Jensen had to admit: There was something very, very sobering about having a giant robot chasing you up an elevator shaft, and that's when he realized the true power of the machines: It wasn't the speed, or the firepower, or the armor. It was fear. Combat vehicles could be scary in their own right, but Wanzers made even the bravest turian soldiers feel like an insignificant insect, to be crushed under the foot of an uncaring, living giant.

Jensen climbed faster, skipping rungs. He was almost there...

And that was when Toombs activated his jump jets.

**~[h+]~**

_"Lobby secure," reported Ryan._

_"Entrance secure," reported Jane. "Coming back in."_

_"Arena secure." reported Garrus. "The civilians should have a clear escape route."_

"Ladies and Gentlemen," said Aya over the Arena's speakers. "The terrorists are no longer in control of the building. Calmly leave the premises in an orderly fashion, and through the main entrance. We hope you had fun at Armax Arena, and hope you'll consider us for your need for prepackaged violence. Have a nice day!"

Ryan and Jane opened the doors, their helmets removed and their CAT6 gear's digital camo set to a different color, and herded the people to leave. Aki went in to treat those wounded, trampled in the initial panic of Toomb's 'grand entrance'.

The people hurried out of the Arena, their step quick and galvanized by fear. That fear turned to terror and panic once the Frost Toombs had claimed for himself burst back onto the Octagon, on the heels of a man in a dark blue coat. Grey, still in his Zenith, engaged him immediately, expecting Toombs to still be too disturbed to adopt another tactic besides charging in. But Toombs had reached the eye of the storm of his rage, and with a clarity of thought engaged the Frost's skates, grabbed the remaining Leo Social from the machine's hip clamps, and began to circle around Gray to pepper him with 5mm slugs accelerated at a fraction of the speed of light. The Zenith's linear skates weren't fast enough to catch up to the Frost's and all Grey could do was try and shield the Zenith torso with its arms.

Without shields, though, it was only a matter of time before the armor gave way and Toombs would hit something vital.

**~[h+]~**

_"Oh my god! Grey!" _screamed Aki._ "Someone! Someone do something!"_

_"I'm trying!" _shouted Garrus._ "Spirits, how much armor does this thing have?! My explosive shots won't penetrate! I hit it square in the head, too!"_

_"Where the fuck is Hein?!" _roared Jane.

_"Damnit! Still no penetration! I've only got one shot left on this thing!"_

From the mainframe room, Hein listened to their pleas over the wireless and proceeded to start up a simulated environment, hoping to negate the Frost's mobility advantage. Yes, Wanzers were all-terrain vehicles, but even they benefited the most from flat, even asphalt. Take that away from them, and their running wasn't quite so impressive anymore.

"A jungle simulation oughta do it." Hein smiled, but then FATAL ERROR appeared in big red letters on his monitor, and the jungle sim failed to load properly. Apparently, Hein's earlier firefight in this very place had damaged something vital. "Oops."

His surprise turned to glee as the Arena's VI flooded the Octagon with Omni-Gel anyway, and he laughed as Toomb's Frost eventually slipped onto the miraculous gelatin and fell, while Grey quickly fished Jensen out of the orange soup with the Zenith's huge mechanical hand. "Oh well, I guess that works too. Time to be a commander."

He spoke into his headset, addressing both Grey and Jensen. "Grey, engage and subdue. Jensen? There are some maintenance hatches on the armoured backpack that provides the Frost its power. Remove those, and then destroy the engine inside!"

**~[h+]~**

_**"Roger that, engaging enem— subduing Toombs!"**_ Grey willed his Zenith forward, wading almost knee-deep in Omni-Gel.

"Hey, don't I get a say in this?!" said Jensen as he was helplessly carried into danger by Grey.

_**"No." **_Grey's voice boomed out of the Zenith's speaker.

_Don't argue with the giant robot,_ Jensen thought to himself.

They reached Toombs' Wanzer just as he was getting up, and Grey opened with a pile bunker strike to its Auto-cannon, leaving Toombs with nothing but the Frost's bare fists to fight with. He wrestled with the heavier machine while expertly depositing Jensen on the top of its backpack pod, and Jensen immediately got to work on tearing off the maintenance hatch. A difficult feat, since he didn't have the proper tools to remove the bolts, and even more difficult since both Toombs and Grey were really, really determined to punch each other senseless with thirty-ton war machines.

Finally, Jensen deployed his new blades, cutting the sleeves of his longcoat, and buried them deep into the rear pod's hatch again and again until he could get a good grip onto it to tear it off. Jensen was surprised at the ease of the task as the 20 centimetre-thick plate of composite armour flew off, but he didn't have time to enjoy his little victory: Toombs was on to him, and leaned back while activating his jump jets, intent on slamming his back against the wall to crush the cyborg. Jensen leapt off at the last second, landing on a hastily formed island of solid Omni-Gel. Cubes and prisms were beginning to form all over, their digital textures constantly shifting.

Jensen cursed himself: he was no longer in a position to stop Toombs, and the insane soldier was now charging towards Grey, intent on crushing his old friend.

Then, the rear pod exploded, and the Frost became limp as it landed in a heap in front of Grey.

_"Holy..." _said Neil over the comms._ "Did you guys see that shot? Garrus nailed the Frost's engine! That was a one in a million!"_

_"Pfft... I've done better." _Garrus waved at Jensen from the ceiling walkway, and once Jensen caught his breath, he waved back.

"Yeah, well... whew! Your timing was per—"

The Frost's chest plate exploded open, and as Grey reached out to grab Toombs, his Zenith's forearm was cleaved in two, along the length.

Landing in on a nearby piece of solid ground was Toombs in his Kua Fu, wielding a customized melee anti-armor weapon he called the Desert Wind. It was a pole axe, but instead of a normal blade, the cleaver was a chainsaw made out of reinforced diamond teeth with a high-frequency mod that vibrated the chain, providing the weapon with absurd cutting power. Its thick, programmable titanium shaft was as long as Toombs was tall. The axe head had built-in micro thrusters, and they flared to life as the diamond chainsaw spun.

_"Awwwwww CRAP!..." _shouted Garrus from above._ "My Krysae is empty!"_

Grey tried to grab Toombs with the Zenith's other arm, only to watch in horror as Toombs furiously chopped the mighty limb into little pieces. Toombs roared, used the micro-thrusters on the Desert Wind along with the Kua Fu's powerful leg actuators to leap at the Zenith's knees, and brought the giant low. Landing on its back, the Zenith could do nothing as Toombs landed on its chest, the Desert Wind ready to tear into the cockpit.

"Don't you understand!?" he screamed desperately. "They _**all**_ had to die! I had to kill them! I had to—"

Toomb's insane tirade was interrupted by the weight of a man tackling him away from the Zenith's chest. He landed hard on the newly solid ground, and found himself being straddled by Jensen. Furious, Jensen proceeded to try and punch the psychotic mercenary's helmet in. But try as the cyborg might, he just couldn't breach the Power Armour's barrier. Toombs laughed, then grabbed Jensen by the fist and tossed him away.

Jensen's back hit a piece of chest-high cover, hard, and before he could fully regain his senses, Toombs had already leapt up, intent on chopping Jensen in two upon landing. Garrus shot Toombs with his Punisher, but the Kua Fu's kinetic barriers still held. Jensen moved out of the way of the gigantic Chainsaw Voulge, and the ground actually cracked under the force of the strike, kicking up fake cement dust and splitting the ground into large shards of Omni-Gel that sprang from the ground. Jensen hid behind one, catching his breath, and letting the Sentinel system take care of a little internal bleeding.

Switching tactics, Jensen grabbed a piece of fake concrete and threw it at Toombs, hoping that the large incoming mass would overwhelm his kinetic barriers. No such luck: the Kua Fu held fast.

"Direct feed kinetic barriers, Jake!" taunted Toombs as Jensen faded away. "Had this suit made special! I can't be killed wearing this thing! Not by your kung-fu, and not by bullets! And you know what else?"

Adam charged Toombs when his back was turned, but Toombs wasn't some stupid mech. His instincts were sharp, and he quickly turned around and punched Jensen in the chest. His fist crackled with blue energy, amplifying the power of the impact, winding Jensen and setting him up for a swing of the chainsaw. Toombs swung, but Jensen recovered just in time to duck below the swing and roll away. He assaulted Toombs with a flurry of punches directed at the chest, only for Toombs to laugh at him as the mad soldier replied with a straight punch to the forehead, and an uppercut to the jaw that sent the cyborg flying off.

"Those barriers kick in when I punch someone! Ain't it something?" Toombs cackled. He approached Jensen's fallen form casually, as the cyborg slowly rose up, trying to get back into the fight. The Desert Wind was whirring, sounding like a hungry beast ready to taste blood and metal.

"So, you're a cyborg, Armitage? It explains so much... nothing HUMAN could accomplish what you did. Nothing human could evade me for so long. But in a straight up fight? Men like you can't stand up to men like me: Fighters! Soldiers! A bunch of cowardly old men ruling the world with their desks are no match for us! And that's how I'm going to bring down your organization! I will break down your walls of lies! I will make all of you Illluminati suffer and die! And then? And then I will kill your children, and your children's children! You all deserve to die! **All of you!**"

Toombs barely had time to blink before Jensen's body flared in a bright blue light, and the Akuze survivor felt his chestplate cave in slightly. He looked down: Jensen's fist was buried in it, having been propelled by the force of a Charge too fast for the suit's VI to detect in time for a barrier to trigger.

"...What the... hell?" Toombs muttered in surprise.

"I..." Jensen threw another glowing punch, its shifting dark energy crackled with lightning, and the VI was completely thrown off, unable to block the incoming, powerful blow. Toombs felt that one in his gut.

"Am not..." Jensen's body flared blue, and as more lightning emanated from his body, he punched Toombs in the helmet, sending him flying in an explosion of electricity, temporarily discombobulating the Kua Fu's onboard VI.

"...an **Illuminati,**" Jensen growled out, his fury cold as tiny arcs of electricity washed over him.

Toombs recovered quickly, and charged again, swinging overhead in an attempt to split Jensen in two. Jensen vanished in a flash of blue light, and reappeared nearby, as if by teleportation, and dug his blade under one of the Kua Fu's extra armor plates, popping it out, thus reducing Toombs' protection considerably. Toombs tried to cleave Jensen again and again. Every time, Jensen blinked in and out of existence and took out a piece of armor.

_"Jensen! Keep it up!"_ encouraged Neil over the wireless. _"Keep him swinging! Toomb's armour can't take the strain much longer!"_

Toombs, furious and desperate, overrode the limiters of his suit and renewed his assault, hitting nothing but air. Finally, Jensen's Eezo nodules built up too much of a charge, and he stood there, unable to move without mass, waiting for Toombs to take that final swing.

Toombs swung horizontally, pouring all of his madness and rage into this one final blow. Some of his polymer bundles snapped from the strain and heat of the melee, and yet the swing didn't lose any momentum. Jensen's blades sprang from his forearms, and he blocked the pole axe's blade. The two men were deadlocked, and Toombs was confident his Desert Wind would win out over a pair of plain high-frequency blades. Sparks flew out between the two weapons, but the Desert Wind's diamond teeth were NOT winning, and for all of Toombs' might, he could not break the stalemate. He could feel his suit's heat sinks become overwhelmed, and its power train straining to keep up with the hail of gunfire that was raining down on him from above.

But Jensen refused to wait: he funnelled his Element Zero cores' built up electric charge into his arm swords, conducting the energy through Toombs' weapon, and the fallen soldier found himself electrified. His grip over his weapon loosened, and Jensen simultaneously pulled at the weapon and kicked Toombs away, sending the huge weapon flying into the air. Jensen caught it easily, and brought the weapon down on his opponent's shoulder, hard. Toombs' shields held, but only just.

"Please..." begged Toombs.

Jensen hit him again, this time with the thrusters on, and the kinetic emitters burned out completely, exploding into tiny showers of sparks.

"I can't... die here...!"

Jensen batted Toombs into the air, and he screamed in terror as Jensen appeared above him in a streak and burst of blue light, the Desert Wind in both hands, drawn back and ready to chop him into pieces.

"N-no...! NO, STOP!" The world slowed down, and Toombs could suddenly recall the faces of all the Shens, and all the Mercers, and all the Fontaines he had killed. Hundreds of them, their faces frozen in terror and rage. And for a brief moment, the man he believed to be his nemesis turned into the woman that had tried to save him so long ago... a raven-haired beauty, armored in red, smiling at him even as she threatened him with his own weapon.

"Shepard...?" Toombs closed his eyes, ready to embrace the end.

Jensen flipped the weapon and brought it down on Toomb's chest just as he Charged down, slamming his enemy into the ground. The Kua Fu's armor shattered into pieces.

Toombs was still, smoke, sparks, and the stink of burnt plastic emanated from his armor. Jensen cast the vicious weapon aside.

The fight was over.

_**~[h+]~**_

Detective Anaya, an Asari police officer that had dealt with everything from jaywalkers to serial killers, was not having a good weekend. First there had been the rash of mysterious deaths, then a Justicar (those were always fun!) came to investigate said deaths and wound up killing evildoers on the goddamned streets, then someone stronger than a Krogan punched said Justicar into a car (pun not intended) which sent her into a coma. Then came the crowning event, though it was unrelated to the first two (or so Anaya hoped): a group of mercs had attempted to rob the Armax Arena. Anaya always knew someone would try something like this eventually: top-tier weaponry like Armax Arsenal's kept as prizes on-site was like painting a great big sign on your building that said 'ROB ME'. A bunch of rent-a-cops would never be able to stop anyone from raiding the place.

True enough, they didn't. The entire security staff had been taken down and shoved into the locker rooms with their pants down. But someone else had stopped these criminals. Someone really, really good.

"Lykke." she said. "Talk to me."

Sergeant Lykke was an ash-coloured Batarian with sad, sunken black eyes. Most people thought Batarians were all about slavery, and most batarians off their home planet liked to live up to that reputation for some reason... but Lykke was born and raised on a Turian outpost in the Traverse, and their discipline rubbed off on his own sense of morality. He joined the Nos Astra police service twenty years ago, and while rumors of corruption lingered about him like a stink, Anaya thought the man to be a tireless, diligent police officer.

"We've got over a hundred wounded civies, mostly from the panic. Broken bones, broken legs, mostly. One of them had a broken neck, but someone stabilized and immobilized him properly before the EMTs got here. There's also a trio of kids that got shot in the knees. Rich kids: their parents got them good gene-mods, so their wounds clotted just fine."

"Any fatalities?"

"None for the civilians."

"Thank the Goddess..."

"As for the terrorists who did this, they have around 50 fatalities. The rest of them got their skulls fractured or their limbs broken in several places. They're at the station, being interrogated."

"Know anything about these mercs?"

"CAT 6. Up-and-coming PMC... Although they fell on hard times recently, this whole mess wasn't motivated by greed. Apparently, their leader, Paxton Toombs, was obsessed with catching a human called Jake Armitage. They tried to raid the Vault, but the only things missing are a few small arms and a few hard-suits. Still a billion credits' worth of gear in there."

"Jake Armitage? Someone I should know about?"

"I'm putting out a few feelers to find out more about the guy. I'm hoping to get something back next week."

"Right. So who put a stop to them? Eclipse? Blue Suns? Kerberos?"

"Nothing concrete on that end, but we've got an eye-witness testimony, such as it is. Wanna talk to the witnesses?"

"Lead the way."

_**~[h+]~**_

The two Drell street kids, each no more than nine or eight, had gotten their hands on some coin and decided to splurge it all on stuffing their faces while people engaged in simulated violence just below. They had hid behind some seats when the incident started, and were only to happy to tell the police lady what they saw.

"... that's when some guy shot the big robot with a bazooka gun! And then, some guy with a chainsaw came out of THAT robot, and sliced the other robot into little pieces! It was awesome!"

"And then, some guy in a trench coat with SWORDS in his arms dueled the chainsaw man to the death!"

"He could teleport!"

"Nu-uh! He could just move really fast!"

"You're dumb!"

"No, You are!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"It was Omar, man!" said the wild-eyed human boy. He was obviously suffering from a slight zyme withdrawal: that drug could give kids an edge in combat, and on Illium's Arena that technically wasn't against the rules. Hell, they sold the stuff in dispensers. "Omars in trenchcoats, wearing fake faces! They stalked the mercs through the vents, man! I saw them!"

_**~[h+]~**_

_**"HE STABBED ME IN THE COOOOOOOOCK!" **_screamed the CAT6 merc the EMTs were moving — delicately — into the ambulance.

"Sir..." soothed Anaya. "If you could just describe..."

_**"HE! STABBED! ME! IN! THE! COCK!"**_

_**~[h+]~**_

"And that's when he batted the chainsaw man away with his own chainsaw, then teleported up, then bashed him with the chainsaw again!"

"Pow!"

_**~[h+]~**_

"They spoke to a tiny blue woman made of light!" said the dishevelled human boy. "She had a huuuuuuuuuuuuuuge rack!" He cackled lecherously. "Can I have my zyme now I'd really like some zyme please."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Don't look into the box, don't look into the box, don't look into the box..." the Specialist, in the back of the police van, rocked back and forth, chanting his own little mantra.

_**~[h+]~**_

Anaya rolled her eyes as she took Lykke aside. "Please tell me that these are not our only eye-witness accounts?"

"Don't know yet, we're still taking statements... look, I know it sounds like those kids were pulling your leg, but what they say does match up with what Forensics found in the Octagon. The heavier Wanzer did indeed get its engine shot off by a high-explosive round, while the lighter one got sliced with an industrial diamond saw."

"I can see the Wanzers in the Octagon just fine, but I'm not seeing the body of this Toombs, or any trace of his... his chainsaw."

"We've put an APB out for this Toombs. I'm hoping he's still wearing that Power Armor of his, otherwise..." he left the fact that most of the agents on Nos Astra's police service weren't exactly capable of telling the difference between one human from another.

"Did anyone on the first response team catch any glimpses of the vigilantes that took on CAT6?"

"None whatsoever. Before you ask, we tried to check the cameras' footage, but someone wiped the drives completely with garbage data."

"Damn."

"Still, I think I know how they got away."

_**~[h+]~**_

"This is how Armax managed to sneak in those Wanzers." said Lykke. "We found quite a few stunned mercs here. Near as we can tell, someone fired concussion bombs into all of them as they tried to escape."

"The cargo subway. Of course. Goes straight to the Spaceport. Didn't you order a lockdown?"

"We did, but the Nos Astra trade authority overruled us."

"Of course they did. They hate losing money. Assholes." Anaya sighed. "So. Any ideas who our vigilantes were, exactly?"

"My money's on Spectres. On vacation, at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Or the right place at the right time." Anaya said. "Oh well, once the brass spins this to the media and Armax runs out of people to sue, this case is going to get put on the back burner, and I can get back to the really important ones."

"Still trying to catch the Black Widow?"

"...Yeah. Although it looks like my job's gonna get a lot harder now that the Justicar's in a coma. Or maybe easier, I don't know. Justicars aren't the easiest people to work with."

"I'm not sure I like people with a license to kill crooks. Maybe it's for the best."

"Maybe."

_**~[h+]~**_

At landing pad D24, The Deep Eyes loaded the pod into the Copperhead. Inside that pod slept a severely emaciated, sickly man by the name of Paxton Toombs, a brother they had thought lost, left behind alone on a hostile world. Who had spent the last seven years sustained by hatred and a life support system. The Arena's infirmary, as it turned out, had plenty of lifesaving gear in case the safeties failed, and a stasis pod had been one of them. Aki monitored his vitals: they were stable, and once she got him in a tank of medi-gel and a proper nutrient IV drip, he could only get better.

Once they were finished, Grey and Aki spoke outside the ship, while Neil prepped the dropship for launch. It would be around twenty minutes before the Nos Astra Control would let them take off.

"Is he... is he going to be okay?" asked Grey.

"...Physically? He's in bad shape, but I can make him better. Psychologically?" Her eyes fell. "I... I don't know. If what Brea said is true, then—"

"Toombs is NOT a serial killer! I don't care what that, that _thing _said! Toombs didn't just murder hundreds of people who just happened to have the same name as the people that tortured him!"

"But what if he did? What if he wakes up, and realizes what he's done? That kind of self-judgement... it'll be the death of him, Grey."

"...He'll cope. He'll have to."

"..._You_ didn't."

Grey stared at her, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that wasn't fair."

"...No. You're right. The body will heal... but the mind... We'll deal with Toombs later, when he's out of the healing coma."

"In the meantime..." Aki nodded in Jensen's direction who was leaning against the railing overlooking the busy streets a hundred meters below. Manah and Garrus were speaking to him. "I think you should maybe thank him?"

"What for?"

"_Come on,_ if he had hit Toombs with the business end of that weapon, there would have been no saving him. He was merciful, in the end."

"...Yeah, I guess you're right."

_**~[h+]~**_

"Don't worry, T'soni." Garrus chuckled. "Our vacations never turn out right."

"Your vacations always end like this?"

"Always." said Jensen. "It's kinda why we have so much vacation time saved up."

"Oh my... b-but still! Are you hurt?" asked Manah. "I heard... I heard that this Paxton was a foe most dangerous!"

"I'll be fine." said Jensen. He tried to be reassuring, but Manah's eyes were still downcast.

"I... I wish I could have helped more. If my biotics had been better, and stronger, then perhaps—"

"T'soni, it's fine. Not everyone's cut out for this kind of work. The best thing you can do is stay out of the way."

"I... I understand." Manah made herself small, and left quietly.

"That, right there?" said Garrus. "Was the worst thing you can say to a girl, Jensen."

"What? Why?"

"Because..." At first Garrus thought Jensen was being a bit of a jerk, but he realized he simply had no clue. "Oh, never mind, you're hopeless."

"No, seriously, what?"

Before Garrus could reply, Grey came up to Adam. "Jensen?"

"Grey?" replied the cyborg.

"I just wanted to say... You... It looked like you were about to chop Toombs to little pieces there, for a second."

"...Grey, I know what the vids say, but not all cyborgs are bloodthirsty sociopaths with a fetish for chopping people up."

Grey looked embarrassed. "Right, right, I understand that now, it's just... I don't think I could have held back, you know? In the heat of the moment?"

"I don't always hold back either, sometimes." said Jensen, understanding.

"But you did... and thanks to you that's one name the Deep Eyes will be able to take off the memorial wall. And that's something more precious than you know." Grey held out his hand. "Thank you."

Jensen and Grey shook hands. "I should be thanking you. If you hadn't hijacked that Wanzer, Toombs would have killed me."

"Yeah, well, who's counting?" Grey laughed a bit, then composed himself. "Jensen..." asked Grey. "Toombs went on and on about people that were responsible for what happened to him. Do you think they're the same people you said Hein is after?"

"I'm not sure, but it's a distinct possibility."

"Hein also said he's planning on working with you on a... 'joint USMC/C-Sec operation' soon, and that you'll be in charge. I just want you to know: The Deep Eyes are in, one hundred percent. You wanna show some gratitude? You'll take one of us on that next op."

"That's... that's good to know, thanks. I'll think about it."

Grey nodded, and with nothing left to say, took his leave.

"Assuming, of course, you take Hein's deal," said Garrus. "Have you thought about it?"

"Still am."

"Well, for what it's worth, I think you should go for it. Things are escalating something fierce. We're no longer dealing with gangsters and drug dealers, now. We're going to need help, professional help with guns, and Hein's got it."

"Hein also has no scruples."

"Is this about how you 'didn't ask for this'?" Garrus growled that last part, imitating his partner's husky voice. "Jensen, I love you like a brother, but nobody feels sorry for you when you complain about being able to outpunch a Krogan, move faster than a salarian, and can hack machines with your mind. And before you give me any crap about letting Hein upgrade you... Well, every life that we saved today is proof that I made the right call."

"I know."

"Oh for... wait, what? You do?"

"I didn't like being reminded of the bad old days, that's all. I understand why you did it." Jensen took a deep breath of the midnight Nos Astra air. "Besides, it's not like he chopped anything else off to make room."

_**~[h+]~**_

"For the last time, NO. My mother was not a korean pop idol." At this moment, Brea wanted nothing else than punch Conrad in the face. Or knee him in the groin. Or shoot him in the foot. Anything to get him to stop talking to her. It was her fault, really. She had tried to glean more information on his activities as 'Jake Armitage'. Instead, he became obsessed with figuring out her connection to Mi-Young Whyte, an entertainer eighteen years dead.

"But you look just like her!" whined Conrad.

"I gotta second that," agreed Spooky after taking a puff from his cigarette "You even got her make-up on."

"A LOT of people have got that make-up." protested Brea. "That doesn't mean anything."

"I _want_ to believe ya, darlin'. But I don't believe in coincidences."

Brea sighed. "Oh, fine. I was altered to resemble Mi-Young slightly to become more appealing, satisfied?"

"...Nah. I don't buy it." Spooky grinned. "I think you're part of a conspiracy to drum up interest in her Farewell album her label is re-releasing. I think the Freemasons are involved."

"Oh, for—"

Jensen cleared his throat, interrupting the exchange. "Brea?"

Brea rolled her eyes. "Oh god. What do YOU want?"

"Just wanted to thank you on a job well done. If you hadn't coordinated our efforts, things would have ended in a total bloodbath. As it is, we managed to avoid any civilian fatalities."

"Hmph. I'd prefer an apology. It would have gone a lot better if you and Grey hadn't cocked it up so thoroughly at the end there," Brea said bitterly.

"...Fine then. I apologize."

Brea huffed. "Good. Apology accepted."

"Bah! It all worked out in the end." dismissed Spooky. "Besides, we were taking too long, and Conrad here was itching to run into the Octagon and give himself up."

Upon seeing everyone looking at him, Conrad stared at his shoes, a little embarrassed and a little ashamed.

"Really, Conrad?" asked Jensen. "That was noble of you. Misguided, but noble."

"It's what you would have done..." said Verner. "Besides, I think we could have avoided all this if I had just given myself up."

"I happen to agree," said Brea. "Not that anyone _cares_ what I think..."

Jensen ignored her. "Conrad. Toombs would have killed you, or worse. Giving you up would have been the easy way out, yes, but it would also have also been the wrong thing to do."

"But... the people! He was going to kill thousands if I wasn't going to give myself up! Don't the needs of the many come before the needs of the few?"

"It's not that simple: Toombs wasn't just going to stop with you. He wasn't even close to done. Letting him have what he wanted and letting him go would have sentenced hundreds, maybe thousands of people to death."

"None of this would have happened if I hadn't tried to save Tenenbaum. People died because I got in Toombs' way."

"Ah, they were mostly bad guys!" Spooky reassured Conrad.

"Yeah, but... I saved one life, and then circumstances forced you to kill thirty." Conrad was visibly struggling with the moral implications of his actions. "I mean, if I had never gotten on that ship, and..."

"Conrad, you can't settle this with arithmetic. You had no way to predict what lengths Toombs would go to just to get revenge. Don't let that experience ruin your perspective on life, and stop you from doing the right thing from here on in."

Conrad beamed, feeling a bit better already.

"Still," Jensen continued. "I would appreciate it if you called on some actual professionals to thwart Terminus warlords instead of going at it by your lonesome."

"Oh! Oh god, no. I mean: Lesson. Learned! I'm done putting on a trenchcoat to fight conspiracies! That's why I've decided to take Hein's deal and work as a DARPA contractor on the Durendal!"

"Good to he..." Jensen's brain took a moment to process what Conrad had just said, even though it didn't really want to. "What." was all Jensen could manage.

"Oh that's right!" said Brea, coyly. "Verner will be working with the engineering crew on the Durendal. Imagine _that_."

"And Hein tells me you'll be working with him, too! This is going to be the best trip ever!" declared Conrad with childlike glee.

Jensen contained his horror. "I... I should go."

"So soon?" Brea smiled. "And you only just got here."

Spooky chuckled. "Well, don't run off to the Copperhead just yet, Jensen. Boss wants to see you. He's right over by the fountain.

_**~[h+]~**_

Hein leaned forward against the railing, staring at the Spaceport's fountain. It was a transparent globe, glowing in a golden light, held aloft by twelve alabaster pillars sculpted into the shape of graceful, slender arms with Mass Effect field generators mounted in the palms of their hands. He heard footsteps behind him. And he knew who it was without even looking.

"Jensen."

"Hein." replied the cyborg as he leaned against the railing to Hein's right.

"I trust that you have finally come to a decision?"

"Not quite. There's..."

"Before we continue, let me show you something."

"What, exactly?

"The contents of that AIA Omni-Tool." Hein activated his Omni-Tool, and Jensen received a direct audio feed to his ear. It was a recording of two men speaking, one of them he recognized as Lawson. The other, an older, huskier voice he didn't recognize.

_..._

_"Nielsen's dead."_

_"Of course she's dead. That's not the issue, the issue is that she tried to waste Jensen and Vakarian, and now the Council knows about our Snatchers. They put the Spectres on the lookout!_

_"This is still well within our plan's parameters. We can deal with the Spectres. When it comes down to it, they're just people, and even the greatest Spectre in the galaxy needs to sleep..." Lawson chuckled menacingly. "In any case, Nielsen took care of the Primary Unit—"_

_"Shepard."_

_"...of Shepard, and the way is paved for the second— that is to say, Jack, to take over the central role in the Ozymandias Scenario."_

_"Is Jack fully prepared? Does he know what's expected of him?" _

_"Hmph. He doesn't have a choice. We've sent the recall signal through the usual channels. He should be back from his mission."_

_"We have another problem... Hein. He managed to get the rest of Earth interested in the Spectre candidacy. Have you made plans to deal with them?"_

_"Several, in fact."_

_"Good."_

_..._

_"...We have a problem."_

_"Do tell."_

_"Jack isn't responding."_

_"...Goddamnit, can't you people keep our assets under control?! Where is he?! What is he up to?"_

_"He's headed for Noveria."_

_"Nov...?! Goddamn. He's looking for her."_

_"Probably. I have a meeting with Pallin to go to first, but I'll make arrangements to have him extracted. If that doesn't work out, we have a tertiary unit prepared."_

_"Brooks' little meat puppet?! No. Bring Jack back to heel. It's him or nothing, is that understood?!"_

_"...Understood."_

...

"What the... Project Ozymandias?"

Hein laughed. "Probably some obscure reference nobody is supposed to get. Kinda ominous-sounding, don't ya think?"

"Who was that other voice talking to Lawson? I don't recognize it."

"I do. But it doesn't matter. I've let you listen to Lawson's audio file in good faith. Even if you refuse to work with me from here on in, you'll still have another breadcrumb to follow: Noveria. Jack. Now, is there anything else you wish to ask?"

"You hired Verner," Jensen accused.

"Yes, I did. I know he doesn't look it, but he's one of the most brilliant scientific minds of his time. A little... detached from the real world, perhaps, but I think the events of today have sobered him a bit, no?"

"Right. And just as soon as you find him, Toombs, who just so happens to be a former Deep Eye, decides to attack the very place you wanted me to be in. A little suspicious, no?"

"Do you have something to tell me, Jensen? Say it."

"Did you plan all this?" accused Jensen, angrily.

"No." Hein's response was so quick and terse, it took Jensen a bit by surprise.

"Really? Because Grey, who wouldn't believe me when I told him about the Illuminati, is now a lot more open to the idea thanks to Toombs' ranting. Sounds exactly like the sort of stunt you'd pull off, Hein, to teach us a lesson, along with the chance for some giggles. The Batarian pirate barge comes to mind..."

"Jensen... We've only known each other for a week, but here's the thing about me? Whenever I successfully play a gag on someone, I take the opportunity to point at my victim and laugh at their expense. Now look at me."

Jensen looked at Hein's face, and the man frowned, dead serious. "I am NOT laughing," said the Colonel. "Nevertheless, as you pointed out, Toombs was a much-needed shock to Grey's system."

"I find it hard to believe you and the Broker never made the connection between Verner, his Armitage identity, and Toombs. You should have seen him coming!"

Hein shook his head. "Jensen? Just because the Broker is one of the most informed entities in the galaxy doesn't make him an omniscient god. There are things we simply don't know. And while I may come off as a master chess player sometimes..." Hein snickered. "...The fact of the matter is, I'm not much of a schemer. Verner, like so many things in my life, fell right into my lap, and instead of shooing him away, like most people would be wont to do, I saw an opportunity to hire a talent and I took it. Toombs... Toombs was an oversight, one I deeply regret.

Hein took a deep breath, and his expression softened. "Thankfully, with the skill of the people I've gathered, including yourself... we managed to avert a massacre and bring a lost soul home. Do you see the benefits of a partnership, now? Had you not been there, Toombs would have killed us all. Had _we_ not been there, you couldn't have saved everyone: there were simply too many soldiers to deal with, ready to execute the hostages."

"That's... a compelling argument in your favor, yes. But how do I know you won't throw me to the wolves at the first opportunity? How do I know you just won't use me for some experiment?"

Hein's expression softened. "Because you're all that's left of my family."

"...What?"

"Shepard's Soul-Catcher, despite my best attempts at recovery, remains incomplete. The only place Junko still lives on... is in you. Or did you think you were such a badass that you could suddenly master an advanced Biotic skill just like that?" Hein snapped his fingers, chuckled, and looked Jensen straight in the eye. "I promise you, Adam, I will do everything in my power to ensure that my enemies will not be able to harm you, and what sleeps in you."

Jensen could say nothing to that.

"Do you accept?"

"...I have a few conditions before I agree to anything."

"Of course, of course. Name them."

"Let's be honest, here, this isn't going to be an equal partnership... but I am not, and will never be your personal assassin, nor will I be your lapdog. The conspirators... I'll bring them out kicking and screaming into the daylight, and I'll deal with them as I see fit. If you want revenge on them, then you'll have to get their blood on your hands, not mine. If I find anything questionable about your methods... you and I will have words, and you will not like what I have to say. On the ship, as far as I'm concerned, Ross is in charge, not you. On the field, what I say goes. Is that understood?"

Hein mulled it over. "Hm... Alright, but if I agree to this, then on Prothean... sorry, Pro_me_thean archeological missions, of which there will be many... _I _will be in charge, and what I say goes. If that's not good enough for you, then you'll sit them out. Agreed?"

Jensen had been tempted to say no. After all, Hein had not proven himself to be stable, and more often than not Jensen found him to be an irreverent, annoying jackass. On the other hand, the man had some resources, some knowledge of cybernetics, a few good soldiers, and a growing number of talented agents in his payroll. And Conrad.

There was also the Promethean relics to consider. Jensen felt as though they were important to this entire plot, somehow, but for the life of him he could not explain to anyone why, let alone himself. If Saren was after them, and if he was truly connected to elements in the Alliance, did that mean the Illuminati were interested in them as well? A stretch, but stranger things had turned out to be true. Jensen didn't have the means to raid tombs in the far corners of the Galaxy. Hein did.

Hein's opening gesture of good faith, however, set off too many alarm bells in Adam's head. Yes. Now, he could walk away from Hein and the Durendal, and be able to pursue the truth on his own. Why did Hein do this? Was he truly as forthcoming as he claimed to be? Was he really willing to risk Jensen walking away from him. The answer was probably no. Hein would still, somehow, be able to manipulate Jensen into doing what he wants. Jensen would have to stay close, and keep an eye on him.

"...Agreed." Jensen held out his hand.

Hein beamed, and shook it enthusiastically, then let go and spread his arms wide. "**Fantastic!** Do return to the Durendal and speak with Brea. You and her will have to make some arrangements, but the gist of it is that you and three others will be headed to Noveria — it's on my dime, don't you worry — and pursue this 'Jack' fellow on Noveria. I want to know what this Ozymandias project is, and why my daughter died so that he could take it over."

"I'll go speak with the crew right away." Jensen took a step to leave, but Hein remained still. "You coming?"

"Tell the crew I'll be right there. I'm just..." Hein sighed. "...I'm going to enjoy the scenery for now, while I still can."

* * *

><p><strong><em>~[Farewell and into the inevitable]~<em>**

* * *

><p><em>As Jensen walked away, Edgar closed his eyes, controlled his breath, and made the world slow down. Decades of practicing his own variation of yoga had given him the ability to meditate on the fly. It was a useful skill, to make the chaos in his mind become still.<em>

_Junko appeared besides him, and leaned over the railing overlooking the fountain. She stared at the jets of water, frozen in time, and after a while, she smiled, and spoke._

_"You still haven't told him?"_

_"He's not ready. The world isn't ready."_

_"YOU aren't ready."_

_"...He's a smart man. If he paid any attention, he'll figure out eventually. That is, if he hasn't already."_

_"...So, shore leave's over. It begins."_

_"It began a long time ago. It's about to come to an end. One way or another, it will end."_

_Edgar stared at the face of his daughter, his most beautiful creation, his greatest gift to the world. But she wasn't really there. The Junko next to him was nothing but an elaborate daydream he concocted to make up for the fact that he had failed to keep her safe. He took out the hexagonal chip from his coat, the Soul Catcher that contained Shepard's memories, her mind, her skills... but ironically, not her soul._

_"It should have been you," he said, sadly. "It was always going to be you. All this? The ship? The crew? The technology? It was all for you, and no one else..."  
><em>

_Junko snorted. "It could have been anyone. Me, Grey, Jack... You. Him. That was the idea, wasn't it?"_

_"But..."_

_"I had a good run, Dad. And as for what's coming, well... You'll find a way to go on without me. You'll find a way to win."_

_Edgar squeezed the Soul Catcher, as if that would somehow force him not to shed that tear that welled in his eye._

_"I... I have to go. My crew is waiting for me, and... and it's going to be one hell of a strange journey."_

_Junko nodded at him, and time resumed its pace. Edgar Hein walked away from the fountain and caught up with Jensen, slapped on a well faked smile, and put his arm over the cyborg's shoulder. He began to try and convince the cyborg to let him work on his body some more, listing all the upgrades he had been dreaming up as soon as he was done repairing him. Jensen patiently said 'No' to each one, but Hein was undaunted, and continued to harass him, and their voices became more and more distant._

_Junko looked back at them, at these two exceptional men, and said: "...The best."_

_And then, she vanished._

__**~[h+]~**__

* * *

><p><em><em><strong>-Next time, on Mass Effect: Human Revolution-<strong>__

__**~[Zack Hemsey - "This Is Our Legacy" ]~**__

_"Ambassador Udina, we have decided to call upon these candidates to evaluate them."_

_"Kim Tae-Yeon, Yang Wen-Li, Nathan Frost, Elsa Devereaux, and Johann Ramsus." Velarn recited._

_"These five men and women," added Sparatus, his tone commanding. "Are to appear before us in five standard galactic days, and no later. Otherwise, their candidacy is forfeit."_

_"Thank you, Councillors." Udina bowed. Soon, humanity would take its rightful place..._

_..._

__**"**____Our objectives," said Brea. "are to ascertain the location of one Lieutenant Commander Johann Ramsus and secure him for extraction."__

__"The Arcology is huge, how are we going to find him in there?" asked Jensen.  
><em>_

_ _Brea smiled. "I have my ways. Have you decided who you'll bring with us?"__

__...__

__"Do you have a problem with me, Mr. Anderson?" said Lawson.__

__"I have a problem with every single one of you AIA spooks," replied Anderson. "But I'll do my duty."__

__...__

__"Follow the Normandy's course, and stay in their wake," ordered Bau.__

__"Whatever you say, boss," said the dusky, dark-haired Fiera pilot as she set the glossair drives to maximum.__

__**With Gina Torres as the voice of Mjrn Katzroy**__

__"Is that smart?" asked Wrex. "Lawson does not look like one you wanna tangle with, and those Blacklight troopers that came with him gave me the creeps."__

__"The Alliance is up to something," said the Spectre. "And I intend to find out what it is."__

__**...**__

__"I wanted the situation at Peak 15 resolved days ago!" shouted the CEO. "Europa Genomics can't afford this kind of scandal!"__

__**...Brian Cox as CEO Johnathan Scholar...**__

__"I can do it quickly or quietly," said EG's chief of security as he cleaned his nails with the point of his combat knife. "Not Both."  
><em>_

__**...featuring Michael Wincott as Jules Kai Leng.**__

__**...**__

__"Jensen!" shouted Brea. "The geth are dropping in!"__

__**...**__

__"Brother!" shouted Wreav. "Small galaxy, isn't it?!"__

__"Why are you working with Saren?!" screamed Wrex as he crossed weapons with his brother.__

__"You abandoned your duty to our people!"__

__**...**__

__"I want Peak 15 sanitized now!" screamed Lawson.__

__**...**__

__Leng approached slowly, menacingly, appraising the sharpness of his machete. "Chaos... disorder... anarchy... Now THAT's fun."  
><em>_

__**...**__

__"God forgive me..." muttered Anderson.__

__**...**__

__**"I am here to kill you." **____said the canine mech, as its segmented blade tail curled and straightened.__

**...__With Michael Beattie as FRN-00...__**

__**...**__

__**"Jack and Jensen won't go down!" **____screamed the Blacklight team leader.__

__**...**__

__**"Are you having fun or what?!" **____Leng laughed as the flames surrounded both he and Jensen.__

__...__

__"Jensen! Run!" yelled Brea, but it was too late: The canine mech leapt towards him and swung its dagger-tail at his head.__

__...__

_**NOVERIA**_

__COMING JUNE 2013__

__... __

__...__

__"Is there anything you would not have done to avenge your family, Alif?" whispered Jack. "Is there anything you would not do to bring them back?"__

__**And introducing Benedict Cumberbatch as the voice of Johann Ramsus.**__

_"Come. This is not where your story ends."_

__**~[h+]~**__

* * *

><p><strong><em><em><em><em><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>__This chapter is dedicated to Antoine Thisdale (one of Human Revolution's designers) who once shared with me his undying love of Gundam, and this Wanzer battle is dedicated to him ;) __**

**__...Actually, he hates giant robots with a passion. So there.__**

**__And I broke my personal record with this chapter at 29000 words. Eep.  
><em>_**

__** Kua Fu is a giant from Chinese mythology who wished to capture the sun. His story is used to describe a person who fails to obtain his goal because he greatly overestimates himself. This sorta fits Toombs: he believed he was striking a blow to the Illuminati, believed that Conrad was their greatest agent and that he warranted him as a response... but all he did was chase ghosts, kill innocents, and burned himself out, his goals unfulfilled. **__

__**The move Aki executed on the CAT6 Heavy was a brutal variation of the Rokkyo. Then again, you might consider them all kind of brutal, I guess.**__

**__Toombs and Samara are important in making a point: In a war of ideas, the greatest weapon is doubt. Toombs, in his insanity, had no doubts, and became just as dangerous as Samara. Samara had doubts, and Jensen inadvertently brought them out to the surface, making her easier to deal with. I'll go into more details on the subject in the next few chapters.__**

**__As for the preview... clearly I've gone insane. Ignore it. Or picture it with more explosions. __**

**__Special thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the spellchecking.  
><em>_**


	32. Interludes of Madness, Sorrow, and Fury

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos Montreal and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

WARNING: The following chapter has fairly graphic descriptions of gore, as well as other adult themes. Do not read if you are squeamish, because this is where I make up for the relative levity of Illium. Consider yourselves warned.

That being said, Enjoy! ;)

And while we're on the Subject, don't worry, "Jennifer" is Okay.

_**...  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><strong>MASS EFFECT: HUMAN REVOLUTION<strong>

**INTERLUDES Of Madness, Sorrow, and Rage.  
><strong>

**...**

_**Jack is voiced by Benedict Cumberbatch**_

_**Hewey is voiced by Michael Beattie**_

_**Dr. Fiona is voiced by Adelaide Clemens**_

_**...**_

_**Special thanks to Vandenbz and Setokaiva for the spell checking.  
><strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~JACK~<strong>_

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 5th 2183 — AIA facility L-39 — location unknown:<strong>_

The new director of the AIA facility arrived today, intent on cleaning up the mess left behind by his predecessor. The woman had been found dead in her bathroom, having mixed alcohol with a potent anti-depressant. Suicide, they called it, but Charles Lawson knew better. It was him. Jack had done this.

Lawson had been adamant about disposing of Jack immediately, but his superiors were convinced he was still under their control. They had sent Charles not only to manage the base, but also to evaluate Jack and see to it that he was still a valid replacement for the primary role of the Ozymandias Project.

The first thing Lawson did before meeting with the man himself was plug security holes: while the vents were flooded with Snowblind pollen to dissuade the curious from looking into the facility with surveillance equipment, he saw to it that small spider bots with advanced IMREC suites patrolled the conduits at all times, denying Jack a favorite (and valuable) exfiltration tactic. He had also brought two squads of Blacklight troopers, and had one set to patrol the facility while the other stood by as a response team. The cameras would not be fixed for a while longer, the computer tech assured him, so that would have to do for now.

Lawson took a deep breath, waved his security pass in front of the card reader, and he, along with the two Blacklight troopers flanking him, entered the Black Cell.

In this large room of obsidian walls there was a cell made of transparent glass in which sat a man close to six feet in height with a build that could be best described as slightly less than manly. His skin was fair, though not as fair as the gentle mop of gold parted down the middle that decorated his head. The irises of his wide, narrow eyes were a gentle, yet piercing pale shade of amber, the curve of jawline was tapered gently into a small chin, and his lips were small and yet inviting, much like a woman. All he wore were white hemp pajamas that hovered loosely over his skin, making his gender indistinct. Lawson wasn't certain to which of his impulses Jack appealed to most: his homosexuality? His heterosexuality? Perhaps it was both, or perhaps it was neither... but Lawson had been warned about this strange beauty. Many a person had fallen for the power of his unearthly charms.

It was what made him such an effective monster.

The Black Cells were designed by the AIA to keep Asari biotics imprisoned for interrogation. The primary component was a cage of Omni-Glass, designed to react to the stresses of biotic energies by bending and reshaping itself to anything from a throw to a warp, and return to its original shape. The secondary, though no less important component to the Black Cell were the four stasis pylons, designed to trigger if the Asari attempted to Charge her way out. Lawson's predecessor had added another trigger: the alarm.

Wise precautions all around, considering who they were dealing with. Then again, it's not like Jack could do much without his biotic amp: his L7x implant architecture had been designed to be completely ineffective without one.

Inside the Omni-Glass cell there was a white bed, a white plastic chair, a white plastic desk, a white plastic sink, and a white plastic toilet. On the desk was a set of watercolors, a canvas and a music player that emitted an opera — Madama Butterfly — from its cheap little speaker as Jack painted. The subject of the painting? A dark branch of cherry blossoms.

Lawson cleared his throat, trying to pull Jack's attention away from his painting.

"Good evening, Mr. Jack. My name is—"

"You have no name." said Jack, not looking up from his painting. "No womb shat you out, _clone_. No woman gave you one as she held you close to her breast. All you have... is a code: Thirty-eight eleven dash C."

"...I see the rumors were true. You are a perceptive one."

"You're not the first Lawson I've dealt with." Jack stopped painting, and looked behind him. "Though I must say it has been a while since I dealt with a male... and judging by your tone, you're definitely programmed with the Charles persona. The previous Lawson they assigned to me — what was her name? — Miranda Six? ah, I enjoyed that one very much. So confident in her beauty, so certain of her perfection... I only needed to call attention at the ugly roundness of her jawline and the disgusting shape of her breasts to break her. It was quite pathetic, really — not my best work."

Jack sniffed. "Have they fixed her yet? Or did they just decant a new one?"

No. Lawson would not rise to his bait. He willed himself not to feel anything, to betray no emotion that Jack could use against him. Jack's eyes narrowed, and he smiled, as if he had found something he had been looking for, and he resumed his painting.

Lawson approached the Omni-Glass cell. "Painting and classical music? Isn't that a little a bit of a... cliché?"

"Usually I can't stand opera, but this song is one of her favorites. As for the painting... well, it passes the time."

"I wanted to have a word with you."

"Am I to kill someone?"

"Well... not quite, but we'll get to that in a moment..." Lawson activated his Omni-Tool, and shut off the Blacklight trooper's helmet external microphones, ensuring that they would not hear a single word passed between him and Jack.

"The White Chapel Operation, from which you earned your nickname in the Company. I wanted to share with you my admiration of it: fantastic work! Twelve targets, all high profile women. You manipulated them into relationships with unstable men, and then fed these men lies to send them flying into jealous rages which... ended very badly. The violence of each of their deaths were so similar and happened in such a sequence that the police thought they had a serial killer on their hands... but they were really supposed to be looking for twelve different men, weren't they?"

"I thank you for regaling me with events I was personally involved with."

"Hm... You don't sound like you approve of the operation... in fact, when I analyzed your debriefing videos you looked absolutely depressed. Why is that?"

"...Have you ever seen the Sistine chapel, clone?"

"What's left of it, yes."

"Michelangelo painted an entire square kilometer of it, and many regarded the work as some of the finest paintings in the world... and yet, as it turned out, Michelangelo hated to paint. He couldn't get out of the church fast enough to resume his real passion once Pope Julius released him from his patronage."

"And what passion would that be?"

"Sculpting." Jack set his brush down, and Lawson moved to the side to get a better look. It was a simple, but well done watercolor painting of a blossoming branch. "Like Michelangelo, I am a much better sculptor than painter... so to speak."

Jack set the painting down, and started making some corrections, adding a few red petals, here and there. "You didn't really come here to watch me paint, or discuss my taste in music. Give me my next assignment, so that I can leave this place. Black Cells are not known for their decorative charms."

_Stay in control_, Lawson reminded himself. "Let's talk about your operation on Luna. Your job was to sanitize the AI research facility."

"A mission I accomplished with flying colours, I believe."

"Yes... and then you came back with a souvenir: the Double O."

"I know all this already. Get to the point."

"You said that the Double O was a complex VI construct, but battle data and reports have me suspect otherwise. It's a little too good at navigating a complex urban environment, and it's really, REALLY good at killing."

"I happen to be a very good trainer. You'd be amazed at what you can get him to do if you keep a piece of bacon in your pocket."

"No. I think the Double O is an AI. Now, if I can figure this out, I doubt that the possibility has escaped you. Why didn't you report him?"

"Perhaps I am not a software expert. Perhaps the AI fooled me by playing dumb. I have no idea."

"Is that so? Well, we'll have the truth out of your pet soon enough. I've ordered him dismantled at substation Beta."

"As you wish. But while you're at it? Do fix that sticky leg actuator."

Lawson played the conversation back in his head. Jack had betrayed nothing: no admission of guilt, no dissent,_ nothing._

"We have a kill off the books: the son of Biotics researcher Dr. Holland?"

"Gene."

"Yes, him. He 'committed suicide' some time before his father, the intended target. Did you have something to do with that?"

"Oh, most certainly."

"...Why did you do it?"

"He was an insufferable, pretentious little man child far too fond of quoting bad poetry to appear profound for his own good. We... had words."

"That's all? You killed a teenage boy because he annoyed you?"

"Even the weapon he used to disembowel himself loathed him. It wouldn't even give him the satisfaction of a clean death. I lent a helping hand."

"I suppose that's where you found your passion for... 'sculpting'?"

"...Perhaps." Jack sniffed. "What do you want from me?"

"What we want from you..." replied Lawson. "Is your participation with Ozymandias."

"...I've heard a thing or two about that. Probably the AIA's best kept secret, since even I know so little of it."

"Well, it's no surprise you know so little," commented Lawson smugly. "It simply isn't wise to have the key members of the Alliance leadership alone in a room with you."

"I did hear Shepard was supposed to be central in that operation. Am I to be her backup?"

"No. Her replacement."

Jack stopped painting, and set his brush down. He turned around, and stared at Lawson, his face emotionless.

"You killed her."

"She was not compatible with the plan."

"Oh? And what, pray tell, makes me more suitable for it?"

"...Because you, my friend, are a perfect combination of competence... and disposability. More importantly? You have no choice."

Jack's laughter was quiet and low as he approached the five-inch thick glass separating him from the rest of the world. "Do any of us have a choice? We are all slaves, here. You're the only one who can't see the leash."

"Let's see if you still have yours... _Laputan Machine._"

Jack screamed, and fell on his knees while he clutched at his hair. The agony was immense, as if a Wildfire grenade had gone off inside his head. Lawson smiled; He had been waiting for a chance to put the mutant in his place.

"Ah, I see your kill switch still works..." Charles manipulated one of the metal disks mounted on the Omni-Glass, and slid it in front of him. The disk became a hole, and through it he threw in a dossier with all the relevant information Jack would need for his role. "...After Torfan, we weren't sure if it stuck, this time around. Then again, you haven't come in contact with Shepard since then. And now, you never will again. Oh! I'm sorry: _Akashic Poultice._"

The abort phrase spoken, the pain in Jack's head stopped, but he was still in considerable pain. He laughed madly, and spoke:

"You think just because they handed you my leash, they removed yours?"

"Is this the part where you try and break me? Please. We all must serve. This is hardly something I have a problem with."

"You're _already_ broken. _All_ of you. I know your disgusting little secret: Yours, and all of your copies."

"And what secret would that be?"

"You all lust for your sisters."

Lawson laughed. "Really? Is that all? For a minute there I thought you had something better than a piece of slander to throw at me."

"Slander? No... try as you might, the signs are there... The dilated pupils at the mere mention of her name, the hairs on your neck raising, the quickened breath, the rising pulse."

Lawson's eyes narrowed. "You want to be quiet, now."

"The thought of her _arouses_ you, just like it arouses Alan, and Bryce, and all the others. It's not in the programming: It's in the blood. You are broken, all of you, a flaw Lawson turned into a feature, an effort to maintain the purity and propagation of his pathetic genes. I know that they promised her to you: to program one _just the way you like them._ That is—"

"Enough! _Laputan machine._"

Jack fell to the ground, and laughed through gritted teeth.

"Do you really think I'm going to let you dig into my head? You have no power over me. I will report this to our superiors: It's obvious you have no real loyalty to us, you disobedient piece of _garbage._"

For a moment, Jack's face contorted with rage. "I... am not... garbage!"

"Ah, yes, I was told this was a pet peeve of yours. Two can play this game: What was it like, being flushed down Kinderheim Station's waste disposal? What was it like, being forced to live in sewage pipes along with the rats and the Greasels, eating nothing but leftovers and shit?"

Jack stared at Lawson, silently.

"You _are_ garbage. An imperfect leftover from a failed project, a pathetic attempt at recovering a trillion credit loss. And to think, If you had been a touch more respectful, we would have made _you_ the first human Spectre..." Lawson walked away from the cell, motioning his guards to follow him. "_Akashic Poultice_. Do review the file, will you? Then again, I doubt my superiors will let you live after I file my report. It's a shame, really. Looks like we'll have to go with Brooks' plan instead."

As a final insult before he left, Lawson had the lights shut off, leaving Jack in the dark, all alone... with no one to see him smile.

Before the lights went out, Jack had taken a glance at the clock. It was 30 minutes before feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the guard station, Kelly West, a woman close to six feet in height with a build that could best described as slightly less than womanly, cleaned her filthy fingernails with her Heat Knife, a memento from her days as an Alliance Marine. Her skin was fair, though not as fair as the unkempt mop of blonde hair that decorated her head. An AIA guardsman outfit clung to her body, making her gender indistinct.<p>

Jack described Kelly best as a misandrist bitch, who hated her body, and who blamed her misfortunes on the idea that men were too jealous of her to let her rise through the ranks. She was taller than most of them and stronger than most of them. She even believed that she was smarter than most of them. Jack knew she wasn't. Her strength had been bought, her height had been bought, and the intelligence booster gene-mods her parents had bought in a desperate attempt to improve her academic prospects had failed to take. She spent her off-duty hours challenging men to various games of strength and ability in a pathetic attempt at asserting her dominance.

Jack could tell of this by observing the way she tried to make herself bigger than she really was whenever her male co-workers got too close, from the injection marks, and her constant, pathetic attempts at intimidating him.

Jack always mocked her at feeding time.

"Are you afraid of me, girl?" he'd say, once she cuffed him.

"Fuck you," she'd answer back. She did not like to be called 'girl'. She never did.

And then Jack would smile, a boyishly handsome and arrogant smile that told her he knew that she was afraid . A smile that told her that she could not beat him into submission. At each and every feeding he did this. The thought that she couldn't take this sad, pathetic, beautiful little girly boy in a fight ate at her in the lonely nights during which she would think of him and touch herself.

"It would be so much simpler if you were a lesbian, wouldn't it?" he had told her once.

"I'm not a dyke," she protested. Jack chuckled at her, making her feel dumb.

"I _know_. And it just galls you, doesn't it? To desire what you loathe?"

"Shut up."

It was too late. The words twisted inside her head, coiled in the dark corners of her brain like a snake.

Yes, she hated men. Yes, she wanted his cock. No, she would not lay down while Jack entered her. She would conquer him. She would beat him into submission, break his legs, make him beg for mercy, make his cock go erect and straddle him, and force him to like it.

Or so she liked to imagine.

Today was the day she was going to make her fantasy a reality. And this time there would be no chickening out.

It was 25 minutes until feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside the electronic security room, a lonely VI tech by the name of Erin Herbst sat in front of the console, staring at nine monitors as they cycled through video feeds. The VI's Image Recognition subroutines were screwed, and for her failure to fix the problem, was pressed into the role of keeping an eye on the entire AIA facility. For three weeks she had done the thankless task of making sure that, should she see anything wrong happen, a big red button got pushed, alerting the entire security staff that something bad was happening. Another blue button was wired to the Stasis pylons inside Room Nine.<p>

She was a small, shy, and homely little thing, this Erin. She had been recruited into the AIA only a year ago, having been scouted in college and given a well paying job right upon graduation. Turned out, they weren't interested in her abilities as a systems analyst, but in her uncanny ability to fix even the most ruined computers... which she had recently failed to live up to, hence the boring assignment.

And Erin was lonely, too. All around her were men and women that were born, raised, and paid to shoot people. People that didn't care about metamorphic code, or the latest in hardware development, or even the vid stream shows that she watched. Then again, it's not like anyone liked talking to her in college either...

Erin liked staring into Room 9, to look at its occupant. He had been brought in two weeks ago, unconscious and under armed escort. She had asked around to know who this prisoner was supposed to be, and one of the guards laughed at her.

"Prisoner? Hah! That psycho is one of us!"

Her curiosity set ablaze, Erin did some digging. The man in Room 9 was codenamed Johann L. Ramsus. His real name? It didn't matter. Ramsus was a fine name, commanding respect like an Egyptian king. It was much better than that stupid nickname everyone in the facility gave him: Jack the Ripper.

In the 3 days since his arrival, Erin stared at Ramsus as he ate, slept, painted and occasionally relieved himself in the plastic toilet. Despite her skills as an experienced hacker, she could dig up almost nothing else on Ramsus besides his name and some impressive biotic scores. Everything about him was too well hidden, so in a fit of uncommon bravery fueled by fascination and curiosity, Erin did something she was specifically forbidden to do.

She spoke to him.

_"H-hello?"_ she said nervously over the installation's intercom system. Ramsus, to her disappointment, did not react with any kind of surprise to her voice, instead smiling as if he had expected her to call him ever since he appeared on her camera.

"Hello," he said softly. Erin hadn't expected his voice to be so deep, and so smooth. She found the sound to be akin to lying down naked in a leather coach — an odd thing to think about, since she had never ever once done that in her entire life.

An awkward silence. He broke it first.

"Is there something you wish of me, Erin?"

_"H-how did you know my name?"_

A smile. "Answer me," he commanded her softly, and just longingly enough to make her want to obey.

"I... well... I just wanted to know who you are."

And with every word after that, Jack pulled Erin in with the power of his voice and his gaze, relayed to the lonely security tech through the smart-cam's optics and microphone. He laughed at her jokes, agreed with every word she said, gave her consoling words when she shared a particularly sad episode of her life. To Erin, Johann was a soothing balm to the boredom and loneliness, and after a week she started to believe there was something special between the two of them.

She asked him about the music, and he had told her that it was 'her favorite'.

"Who's favorite?" she asked, fearful of the answer.

"The first woman in my life. The one they took me away from," he said, his voice carrying a longing and sorrow so deep Erin could have cried. Oh! How she had wanted to reach out and caress his cheek then.

She asked him about the paintings of the blossoms.

"They had been the favorite of the last woman in my life, the one that rejected me." he answered. "I took to painting them after she confided in me this: she had learned to loathe the flower. It reminded her far too much of the day her life had been destroyed. She confided this to me in tears, and when I kissed the droplets gently as they slid down against her alabaster cheeks, as I tasted the salt and the flesh, the image of the branches surged in my mind. The image haunted me then. The image haunts me still, and it will do so forever."

Erin could have cried, as her chest ready to burst with jealousy and pity. He spoke of this woman with such melancholy... Oh! How she had wanted to find her, this _witch_ that had broken his heart. and carve out her heart, and offer it to him...

Eventually, the subject of his nickname came up, and for the next six days Johann had shared with her the gruesome details of his work for the Alliance — how he had manipulated twelve poor women into their deaths. She should have been shocked and horrified at his methods, but instead she found herself panting, and feeling a tightening in the lower reaches of her abdomen. Each time, he shared with her his lament at being forced to end the lives of these poor women, and every time she felt pity for this trapped, beautiful creature in the central monitor. He was a good man, she decided, forced to do the bidding of bad people.

Two weeks had passed, and Erin took her post, and all she saw from Room 9 was darkness. Was it lights out already?

"Erin..." she heard Johann groan.

"Ramsus? Are you... are you okay?"

"They hurt me, Erin, and left me all alone in the dark..."

"Oh... oh no..."

"I need your help."

"Anything! I'll do anything you want!"

It was 20 minutes until feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the guard station, Bill O'Neil wrought his hands together in worry. It was almost feeding time, and he'd have to go in and feed the beast inside the Black Cell along with Kelly. He had made the terrible mistake of listening to it yesterday, as it had opened up with a friendly conversation, then shared with him the tale of what he did to one of his victims. He had dismembered him, simply enough.<p>

"And he died, right?" asked Bill with as much false nonchalance as possible.

"No. He had his limbs replaced with prostheses."

"Well, big freakin' whoop, pal. That happens to a lot of people in war."

"Oh, but that was the easy part. You see, I turned him into a hobby, something to check on between assignments. The _fun_ part was watching as his increased need for neuropozyne destroyed his finances. He was left penniless on the street, barely eking out a living as a pauper and eating refuse. What came after that... that was the horrible part. Do you know what happens to a double amputee when he doesn't get his neuropozyne? It's not pretty... first, the body rebels against the metal and wires, and makes every effort to attack the nerves. Should its protests be ignored, it begins to rot at the stumps. Eventually, the rot loosens the artificial limbs' moorings, and it simply... sloughs off. The pus built up between the stump and the metal bursts out, and the poor fellow was forced to feel every second of it... I certainly hope such a fate never befalls _you_, mister O'Neil..."

"So uh... what did you do with the arms?" asked Bill, overcome with a morbid curiosity. "I mean, you had to make sure they couldn't sew them back on, right?"

Jack smiled, but his voice was low and menacing. "...Why, I ate them of course."

Bill blanched, and the beast in the cage smiled at him. "When is dinner to be served?" it asked.

The words twisted in Bill's head all night, keeping him awake. Working for the AIA was dangerous work. What if he lost a hand? A leg? How expensive was it to get a prosthetic? Would a cloned limb be cheaper? He had heard on the extranet that cloned limb rejection was a distinct possiblity. Was that better or worse? How expensive was neuropozyne? How often did you have to take it? The questions had haunted him all day.

All Bill knew at the moment, was that he really, REALLY didn't want to lose an arm.

While Kelly was cleaning her nails with her big knife, he took a look at the clock.

It was 15 minutes before feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In his new office, Lawson had finished typing and sending an encrypted email to his superiors, hoping that they would read it and acknowledge what a terrible mistake it would be to unleash someone like Ramsus onto the galaxy with a Spectre's badge. He doubted they would: after all, the killswitches still worked, and they still had a hostage, and so on paper it looked like Ramsus would remain their obedient little lapdog, provided to tightened their grip on him.<p>

He should kill him, right now, but they hadn't commanded it, and so he would not do it.

While he waited for a reply, he decided to review Johann's confiscated personal effects: He didn't have much of his own, save for his gear and that mech, but Johann had spent the past two weeks in that cell painting cherry blossoms, and besides that he also painted high contrast silhouette portraits of two women: one blonde of hair, with a butterfly on her cheek, and the other was black of hair, though petals of blossoms were caught in it. Their lips were blood red, their lids were smokey and dark, their eyes were a deep blue, and their skin the stark bright white of the canvas. _Who were they?_ Charles wondered._ Were they as beautiful in real life as they are depicted here?_

Another item: A stack of love letters. Lots and lots of letters, written on plain paper, with an impeccable, curved calligraphy. They all professed an undying love with a sadomasochistic bent, bordering (yet never quite crossing into) the realm of rape. They were written to —

"Oh, but this is too good." said Lawson out loud. "You never struck me as the type, Ramsus." He put the letters away. Such drivel, but they'd no doubt want these kept as data to analyze Ramsus' psyche.

There was a knock on the door, and the security tech — a veritable mouse of a woman — came in.

"I was told to report to you that the problems with the security VI issues were fixed."

"Is that so? Then why are you going over the head of your superior? Why didn't you just write an email?"

"...I had standing orders from the last Director to report to her any news concerning the security systems immediately, and..."

Lawson rose from his seat and approached the young woman. She was petite and slender, not at all unattractive but obviously shy and lacking in confidence. Exactly the kind of person Ramsus would prey on.

_She's lying_, Lawson thought to himself.

"Tell me, how did we make do in the meantime?"

"Um, I was pressed into the role of security guard in the meantime, watching the monitors, sir."

"There's a camera in the Black Cell. Were you tasked with watching that one, too?"

"I was... Mister Ramsus seems like such a... a frightening person, sir."

"You know his name."

"Well, yes, but who doesn't?"

"You spoke to him."

"I..."

She didn't have time to finish her sentence before Lawson drew his pistol and shot her in the chest. The impact pushed her against the wall, and she slumped, forming a trail of blood against the wallpaper. She looked so shocked, and so sad, and she whimpered Ramsus' name before her eyes went slack stared at nothing at all.

Lawson checked the clock.

It was 10 minutes before feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Send a team to keep an eye on Jack at all times." <em>ordered Lawson, his voice laced with static.

_"Roger that. Team 1's got a Biotic. Want me to send them?"_

_"No... send team 2: they've got better firepower. I'll be going down there myself. Oh, and send a Specialist to the security control room. Ramsus compromised the technician."_

And so, Team 3 made their way to the Black Cell's entrance, and waited for Lawson and the guards to come and deliver the food.

It was 5 minutes until feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Bill tapped Kelly on the shoulder. They had to go and pick up Ramsus' food. Might as well get it over with as soon a possible, they figured.<p>

The kitchen staff put together a simple meal: two rare lamb chops with a side of lentils, and a glass of water. The cooks put it on a cart for the two guards to take to the Black Cell. There, they found three Blacklight troopers led by Lawson and they commanded them to open the door. Kelly just rolled her eyes, since she was about to do it anyway. _Pfft. Men._

As Bill fumbled for his pass, Kelly checked her gear: Stunner, knife, gun, and baton. Hard-suit shields were at a hundred percent. If Ramsus tried anything, and she hoped he did, Kelly would be ready, and she would be the first to go in.

It was 2 minutes until feeding time.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[Memories Soundtrack - Magnetic Rose - Madama Butterfly]<em>

The lights came back on, courtesy of Ramsus' friend behind the camera. He put on his favourite portion of Madame Butterfly — and soon the sorrowful finale would begin. He waited patiently for the guards to come with his meal.

The heavy door hissed open, and in came Lawson, three of his troopers, and Ramsus' usual minders.

"Ah, Lawson." he greeted. "Back so soon?"

"Erin is dead." said Lawson flatly.

Ramsus shrugged. "Who?"

"Don't play games." he nodded at Kelly.

"Alright, Jack," she said. "You know the drill." She approached the glass cell while Bill pushed the cart over, and the three Blacklight troopers stayed close behind him. Kelly moved two disks in position over the Omni-Glass, and two holes formed in the cell. Ramsus put his arms through, palms wide open, and Kelly cuffed him, ensuring he couldn't try anything.

As an added precaution, Lawson held his wrists.

"I am very flattered, Lawson, but... You're simply not my type."

"Witty." Lawson's own biotics flared, and Ramsus' mass signature increased three-fold. The prisoner winced, and struggled to keep himself upright. "Search the room," the clone commanded. "Every nook and cranny. And while you're at it, take away what few luxuries he has. We can't be too careful."

Kelly set the Omni-Glass to form a door, and two Blacklight troopers came in and kept their weapons aimed at Ramsus' head while the third cut into the bed, tore every sheet, and checked the toilet.

"Mind the painting," said Ramsus as the trooper approached the desk. The trooper didn't listen, and simply tossed the watercolours and the Canvas out of the door. Ramsus simply sighed.

"Is this necessary, Lawson? You could simply say the magic words..."

"A third time? It would kill you."

"Aw... I didn't know you cared."

"I don't. But my superiors have yet to command your death."

"Of course. We all must serve... so why are you here? Lawson? What are you trying to prove?"

Lawson said nothing.

"There's nothing left." reported the Trooper. "All he's got to sleep on now is the floor."

"Leave the cell," commanded Lawson. Bill was about to bring in the food, but a quick look from Lawson and Ramsus was denied his meal.

Kelly sighed at the posturing of men, and once the blacklight troopers were out and the opening closed behind them, she followed the motions, as she always had, and remotely undid the cuffs with her Omni-Tool.

With a flash of his own weakened biotics, Ramsus resumed his normal mass, and with a speed and strength that was not thought possible for his physique, he grabbed Lawson's wrists and pulled his arms into the glass cell through the two openings, then broke them at the elbows, using the holes as leverages.

Lawson screamed, and screamed harder as Ramsus began to twist his forearms, locking them into place.

"Laputan Machine! Laputan Machine!" Lawson kept screaming. Damn his superior's plans. Right now, all he wanted was to get away.

The killswitch didn't work.

Ramsus giggled, and licked his lips, staring at both Bill and Kelly. To Bob, it was a confirmation of what he already suspected, and for Kelly, a goading taunt.

"Sound the alarm!" one of the Blacklight troopers shouted as his men fired their guns pointlessly into the regenerative Omni-Glass.

"NO!" Bill screamed. All he could think about was how this poor man was about to get his arms eaten, and how he'd have to get replacements, and how his life would be ruined. "If you do that the rings will close and cut off his arms!"

"Someone get in there and kill him! KILL HIM!"

"Come on, Kelly..." taunted Ramsus. "Let's see how big your cock really is."

All Kelly could see was red, and before the Blacklight troopers could get in, she opened the door and went in first, brandishing her baton overhead. "I'm going to fuck you into the ground, you little—"

Ramsus smiled. It was time to feed.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Memories Soundtrack - Magnetic Rose - End]<strong>_

The Specialist watched in horror as the prisoner in the Black Cell snarled like a beast, and began to bite down into the neck of the woman with the ferocity of a Greasel. Then, he stopped being an animal, and used her as a human shield when the three Blacklight troopers shot at him at a distance through the doorway.

They screamed for help.

And then Jack took a knife from the woman, there was a flash of red light, and the nearest Blacklight trooper fell on his knees, looking down lamely as his guts spilled on the floor. The woman had fallen, and was still twitching.

The Specialist shook his head, and bashed the two big emergency buttons as Jack threw a pile of his comrade's guts at the guard's head. Acid from the sanitization implants had already begun to eat the stuff, and before long the guard went down screaming as his face melted.

No alarm rang, no stasis lock in the Black Cell was initiated, but there was an automated announcement.

INITIATING LOCKDOWN.

The Specialist looked at the other video feeds, and saw forcefields and blast doors erected around every exit as Jack stabbed his other comrade in the head.

The soldier attempted to override the lockdown, but access to the device required a password.

"Where's the goddamned security tech?!" he asked the soldiers next to him.

"...Lawson shot her dead," said one.

"...Oh, fuck," added the other.

As Jack straddled the last trooper and repeatedly slammed the back of his head against the hard stone floor, the three Blacklight soldiers stared at each other, their horror evident despite their faces being hidden by a plate of ceramic.

They were all trapped in here, with HIM.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus smiled at the camera and shot it with Kelly's pistol. The Blacklight troopers were melting, Kelly and Bill were still twitching, and Lawson... Lawson was still struggling to break free, and attempted to erect a Barrier to delay the inevitable. Between the pain ruining his concentration, and his inability to use mnemonic movements, Lawson was failing, badly.<p>

"You know, Lawson. I've always admired your siblings' willingness to get their hands dirty. Your constant paranoia and self-absorption, however..."

"You!" Lawson spat. "You planned this somehow!"

"I'm no schemer, Lawson..." Ramsus chuckled as he walked up behind Lawson. "I merely created opportunities... and all fell into place. Like you, for example. I was wondering what I would do about my diminished biotics..." Ramsus caressed Lawson's hair, and brought Kelly's knife close to the back of the clone's neck. "I thought I would sneak out of here, but now it seems I'll soon be able to indulge my other passion, thanks to the little gift you brought me. You do remember what it was, don't you? Sculpting?"

"N-no! Please, no! LAPUTAN MACHINE! LAPUTAN MACHINE!"

"Ah yes, the words!... You think mere words have power over me? Let me let you in on a little secret, you _harlot_..." He whispered in Lawson's ear. "They. Never. Worked. Now shush... this won't hurt a bit." and Ramsus started whistling a tune, and gently began to cut into Lawson's head.

"No! NO! Ah! ARGH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH..."

Ramsus kept on shushing and cutting, and Lawson kept on screaming and dying...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It took an hour of cutting through the main door, but it was done. Blacklight squads Gamma, Theta and Omega breached AIA station L-39, a nine story building, at midnight. Their objective? Secure and investigate AIA station L-39. Their secondary goal was to find any survivors and provide medical aid. Contact had been lost hours ago. This being the home base of AIA asset codename 'Jack', Management thought it was best to go in fully armed. Two exo-suits were provided for the primary task, and two medical black vans were provided for the secondary task, along with four corpsmen.<p>

Lieutenant Corvin hoped that would be enough... but he wasn't so sure they'd find anyone alive in there.

The door breached, they proceeded to secure the lobby, the two exo-suits leading the way, annoucing their presence with the foot falls of a entire ton of plastic and metal. Inside, snowblind particles hung in the air, while classical music was playing on a loop over the intercom. Damaged lights flickered all over, smashed by a great force.

The stench of blood was in the air, and they all turned their filters off, and switched to their O2 supplies.

They found Agent Charles Lawson strung up spread eagle in the middle of the three-story atrium, his belly having been cut open. His guts were serving as the ropes that bound him to the marble balcony. His face had been carved into a horrible caricature of a human being. And, as a final insult on top of many, many horrible injuries... he had been castrated.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." muttered Corvin. He had heard a lot of things about Jack, but nothing so... depraved.

"I don't think He's watching over us, sir." said one of his Sergeants. "Not here. Not now."

...

In the kitchens, Squad Gamma's fire team One found four corpses made to sit at a table, their bodies forced into poses with braces, arranged like a family gathered for supper, about to grab a serving of a nearly perfect sphere made of meat. It took a moment for the troopers to realize that the sphere was made of human flesh, and bone, and clothing.

"Oh... oh shit." reported the youngest amongst them. The second newest was busy vomiting in his helmet.

"Yeah..." said the leader. "Singularity's a bitch, ain't it? Nothing like in the video games, where they just float like idiots. I count, oh... three different colors of eyeballs in there?"

And that's when the newest Blacklight Trooper puked as well.

...

Theta Team 2 and Omega Team 1 found a dozen suits of Blacklight armor in the hallways, and each of them were in the middle of a spherical dent in the cement walls. The implants didn't have the chance to trigger in time, and there was blood splattered everywhere. The bodies inside the suits were mush.

...

Omega Team 3 found the infirmary in shambles, save for three beds configured in a Y, and on each bed lay a medical technician. Blood flowed between the three bodies with the assistance of a pump. They had died from Acute hemolytic transfusion reaction only thirty minutes ago. Their faces had been lacerated.

...

Gamma squad, led by the Lieutenant, burst into the Black Cell and quickly secured the area. There they found five bodies, four of which (a guard and the acid burned remains of three blacklight troopers) were frozen in place into the Omni-Glass in an insane imitation of Wolgemut's Dance of Death, with a blonde woman laying at their feet on the ground.

And what a sorry shape the woman was in. She was covered in her own blood, her face had been lacerated into unrecognition, and her hardsuit's chesplate had been torn off to reveal her fatigues, which had been ripped open to reveal her chest.

Or at least, what was left of it: Her breasts had been sliced off.

Corvin took off his helmet and sat down. Getting the attention of Gamma's Sergeant.

"Sir? You're not supposed to..."

"Shut up... just... just the fuck up, Sergeant. I can't breathe in that goddamned bucket." Of course, he was already regretting his action, as the stink of blood, shit, and snowblind pollen hit the black ops soldier's nose. He had always struggled with the morality of his own actions. He had killed people, yes, and some of them didn't deserve to die... but he had tried to make it quick. Jack? Jack was pure evil, he killed for the ungodly pleasure of it, and Corvin hoped to be the one to put a bullet right between his eyes. By the looks of things, however, he was long, long gone.

That was fine. Right now, all Corvin wanted to do was bury his face in his hands.

"Hey... HEY!" shouted a Corporal. "She's breathing! The woman's alive!"

Relief washed over the lieutenant, galvanizing him to rush to the woman's side and kneel down besides her. He took her by the hand, hoping to keep her anchored in this mortal coil. "Oh, oh thank Christ Someone call a corpsman! Ma'am? Ma'am! Can you hear me? What is your name?"

"K...Kelly..." she groaned out.

"Okay, Kelly... now you hold on. We're here to help — WHERE THE FUCK IS THAT CORPSMAN, GODDAMMIT?!"

"He... he did things to us..." She started to spasm. _Dear God, please don't let this one die. _

"We know... we know... God Almighty, we know."

Corvin kept reassuring the woman, and the Corpsmen arrived with a stretcher. They couldn't stabilize her here, apparently: The snowblind interfered with their Omni-Tools' medical apps, and since this place's infirmary was completely unsalvageable, they decided to take her immediately to Substation Beta. Kelly's fate would be in their hands.

Putting his helmet back on, Corvin resumed the search for anyone still breathing. Eventually, they found someone.

It was Jack.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Omega squad was getting ready to move into the director's office. Team 3 had been stacked up against the large wooden double doors. One of them had his helmet open, and kissed his pendant — a star of David — and muttered a prayer in Hebrew before cocking his shotgun. He was ready. They were all ready.<p>

"Sergeant? Sitrep?" asked Corvin.

The Sergeant had everyone link up their helmets and try to cut through the snowblind interference together with their multispectral optics, and as far as anyone could tell, Jack was sitting at the desk, breathing heavily over a young woman's body.

"What's he doing? Jerking off?" asked Corvin.

"Maybe. It's hard to tell... but I don't think he's moving. Do you want us to... to negotiate?"

"No. Get me a gun. A big one."

Corvin linked up with Omega squad's helmets, and his helmet's AR overlay simulated the image of the Director's office's interior as best it could. The Lieutenant lined up a shot with a Widow sniper rifle and pulled the trigger. The tiny shard of metal tore through the wood, and instantly made the top of Jack's head explode.

"I'll see you in hell, you piece of shit."

"Um...Sir? something's wrong. I can still hear him breathe..."

"...Breach and Clear."

They secured the director's office quickly, and once they got some light in to illuminate the darkness, Corvin took stock of the scene.

Spread all over the floor were drawings, canvases of beautiful women and trees, a sharp contrast to the blood and gore that preceded this moment. Letters made out of a fortune of wood paper had been torn into confetti, their contents turned into a puzzle.

On the desk was a young dark-haired woman with fair skin, dead from a gunshot wound to the chest, but was otherwise intact. Judging by the location of the bullet, she had died slowly, and from her runny make-up, she had been crying all the while. She was laying down peacefully, her hands were crossed over her chest, pining the stem of an origami flower that bloomed between her modest breasts. A stain of blood was printed over her forehead... and Corvin could swear it was shaped like a woman's lips.

"I'm so sorry..." he heard a deep voice say. Everyone trooper in the room panicked for a moment, aiming their guns at shadows, until Corvin found the source.

A portable music player, right by the girl's ear. Corvin switched it off.

Corvin looked at the walls. Written in blood were three phrases:

LOOK AT THE MONSTER YOU MADE!

LOOK AT THE MONSTER I HAVE BECOME!

LOOK AT THE MONSTER YOU HAVE LET LOOSE!

"And now the Monster is dead." muttered Corvin. "And all is right in the world."

"Um... Sir?" said the Sergeant.

Corvin closed his yes, and mentally counted to three. "...Sergeant, I swear to you, if you say one more word I will—"

"The person you just shot... that's a woman... and her body's cold.

Corvin looked at the woman's body. Her breasts had been sliced off, and though the top of her head had exploded, the rest of her head was intact.

Or it would have been, if the face had not been neatly sliced off.

He noticed the glint of a chain, and pulled at it immediately. Dogtags. On them were the words that made his blood run cold with horror.

Corporal First Class Kelly West

Corvin looked up at the blood writing again.

LOOK AT THE MONSTER YOU HAVE LET LOOSE!

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>On the streets of a city there was a black van speeding through the road, a car bound to the ground, unable to join the rest of its kind into the sky. But for Jack that was fine. He gently removed the makeshift mask of flesh, and stuck his head out of the driver's side window, and he let the wind flow through his hair, and cool his face, wet with a virgin's blood. He hadn't felt this good in a long time, not since the day before Torfan.<p>

He still had much to do. He had to find an old friend, had to find his arms and armor, and he had to find her, wherever she was... but for now...

Johann Liebert Ramsus was free.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~HUEY~<strong>_

* * *

><p>In the darkness there was an artificial mind, made out of an untold number of artificial cells. It tried to open its eyes, but saw nothing. It tried to strain its ears, but could hear nothing. It tried to reach out, but could feel nothing.<p>

It tried to scream, but it had no mouth to do it with.

Eventually the darkness became a dream. A dream of a dog... named Huey.

**...**

_[Vashti Bunyan - Here Before]_

_In a time long past there was an albino pup, a sighthound. His mother had died trying to bring him into the world, and his siblings had joined her in death soon after. Only he remained._

_His Master was a tiny mass of pink skin and golden fur who made a lot of sounds, and her muzzle kept curving upwards at the sight of him, and he recalled being crushed by her._

_She scared him at first, but she was warm, and he felt so cold..._

_Eventually the tiny Master kept making a sound while pointing him, a sound called 'Huey'._

_Then she pointed at herself, and the sound became 'Fiona'._

_It was then that he understood the concept of names, though he did not know the word for it._

_Fiona grew up a bit, while Huey grew bigger and bigger. She was smaller than him now, and Fiona's Master, a big hairy version of her, took him outside, and showed him how to track, how to smell, how to chase..._

_How to hunt._

_No, he wasn't being taught... he was being reminded. As he sank his fangs deep into the flesh of the reddish brown hare, and its blood splattered on the snow, he knew he had been here before, out in the fields... though he knew that was not possible._

_Such was Huey's life, for three winters: Most days were spent at rest by a fireplace. Huey rested on Fiona's lap while she caressed his ears, or read a book out loud. Sometimes, Fiona's Master beckoned him and those days were spent in haste and violence, and ended with the feeling of warm blood in his maw. _

_On the fourth winter, there was no hunting, the fireplace was never extinguished, and yet Fiona kept shivering. Huey tried to warm her by staying close._

_Three people came by the light of a pale moonlight. One of them was a young man. Another was a pale woman. The third was a large simpleton. They all smelled wrong. They were hungry._

_Fiona's Master had no food to give them, but they did not leave, because they were hungry._

_They hunted Fiona's Master, and his mate, and would have hunted Fiona too if Huey had not bitten into the simpleton's ankle and allowed her to escape. Fiona and Huey fled into the snow, as far as their legs could carry them. Their small paws left tracks into the snow. The cold winds robbed them of their warmth, little by little._

_"I'm hungry," cried Fiona._

_Huey tried to hunt something she could eat, but could not catch the scent of game._

_"I'm so cold..." murmured Fiona._

_Huey stayed close, tried keep her warm, but his fur was as thin as her clothes, and he had so little warmth to give her._

_"I'm so tired..." she tried to say, and she fell in the snow. Huey did not know what to do then, and whimpered, and whined. He licked her face, hoping to make her smile, hoping to make her giggle, hoping to wake her up. But she would not stop sleeping, and her face became frozen, and the snowflakes buried her into the cold white ground with every passing moment._

_Finally, understanding what had happened, Huey nestled himself right by her, laid down, and closed his eyes, and fell asleep too._

_An eternity of snowfall lasted before he heard footfalls approach, and the giddy cackle of a woman that smelled wrong._

_..._

In the darkness the mind's dreams shifted seamlessly into the realm of memories, and with nothing to feel, and nothing to hear, it simply let them come to life in its billions of synthetic cells.

...

_On December 25th 2176, in a remote subterranean base on Luna, FRN-00 (Codename: Hannibal) comes online for the very first time. It could barely think, let alone process the data being streamed to him via an optic. It saw... things. That was the only way it could describe shapes, and color, and movement at the time. Then, it saw nothing at all for an indeterminate amount of time._

_Then, out of the dark, came the shapes. First, a square. Then, a circle, followed by a triangle. FRN-00 didn't know why, but the three images, when put together...made it feel good, as if the shapes were a promise of things to come, as if they held limitless potential._

_More complicated shapes appeared in its mind. Ovals. Arrows. Stars. Then came the third dimension: cubes, spheres, cylinders, pyramids, and many more types of polygons._

_Colors. Red. Green, Blue. Cyan, Magenta, Yellow, Black... and everything in between._

_White. There was something about white, though it did not understand why._

_"I'm so cold..."_

_For the next three months, FRN-00 was repeatedly fed increasingly larger sequences of even more complex images, and a word resonated for each picture. Behind each word and each image was an idea, and each idea began to connect with others. Things reminded him of other words, words reminded it of other things._

_Things like Sky. Moon. Sun. Clouds. _

_Words like Emotion. Happy, Sadness. Joy._

_All these things seemed so alien, then._

_Then, on the 7th of March, 2177, FRN-00 was once again fed visual data through an optic, and was able to interpret it. _

_Room. Walls. Metal. White. Tables. Computers. Many Computers. Office? Many Benches. Tanks. Omni-Gel. Books. Asimov? Correction: Not Office — Laboratory. Bed. Shower. Apartment? Both? Yes. Desk. Paper. Datapad. Chair. Person._

_Woman._

_Gold? No, Blonde._

_Eyes. (255, 126, 0)? No, add more white._

_Glass. Windows? No. Optics? Yes. No. Glasses. Yes._

_Smile._

_Labcoat. Scientist._

_She waved her hand at it. Greetings._

_Her mouth moved. She pointed at herself. FRN-00 didn't understand what she was trying to do._

_Another data feed was connected, and this time it was as if thoughts that were not its own rang inside its mind. But they weren't thoughts. They didn't have the structure of thoughts._

_Over the next three months, it learned of noises, and sound._

_The woman, instead of feeding him images directly, held up cards with symbols on them. She made a sound for each one. _

_Eh. Bee. See, Dee... and so on. Twenty-Six symbols, and Twenty-Six sounds, and each symbol could be combined to create new sounds, and with each new sound came an idea._

_FRN-00 had tried combining E and A, and found that he did not like the sound of it at all._

_On the 12th of June, 2177, FRN-00 spoke its first word._

_**"Greetings."**_

_The woman squealed, and laughed, and clapped, and smiled. She was happy. Did saying hello make her happy?_

_**"Greetings. Greetings. Greetings."**_

_"Oh, I can hear you, I can hear you!" she replied. "This is just so exciting. Your first word, ever!"_

_**"Hello is not the first word I learned."**_

_"But it is the first word you said, and— oh my god, you can converse! You can converse! Yes! I knew this would work! Oh this is the most fantastic day of my life! Say, what was the first word you learned?"_

_**"My designation: FRN-00 Hannibal."**_

_"Right, right, the project codename they gave you. Hannibal... Hannibal..." She put her finger on her cheek, and looked up, and it seemed to Hannibal that she was tasting its name. Odd._

_She snapped her fingers. "No! Too creepy! I've decided your name is now Hewey!"_

_**"That... is not my name."**_

_"It is now! Say it with me: Hewey."_

_**"...Hewey."** it repeated._

_"Hewey." she insisted._

_**"Hewey."** it repeated once more._

_"Now, what is your name again?"_

_**"You already know."**_

_"I forgot!" she smiled. Was she happy about being ignorant? "Remind me!"_

_**"...My designation is FRN—"**_

_"Nooooo..."_

_**"...My name is Hewey."**_

_"Yes! So you CAN adapt! Magnificent!"_

_**"...What is **_**your****_ name?"_**

_"Mine? Oh! Of course. You may call me Fiona Clemens. Pleased to meet you."_

_Hewey said nothing._

_"You're supposed to say something back, you know, to reciprocate?"_

_**"Something."**_

_"Hmph, well, we'll just to work on those conversation skills, then. I look forward to teaching you!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Reeves? You remember the original specs of the Hannibal? You know how you said how the neuro-optic cell matrix wouldn't work? Well guess what? It works! Come on over and meet Hewie. Well, that's because that's what I named him, stupid! Now get over here!"<em>

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>A tall bearded man with unkempt hair appeared before Hewey, and it thought it would introduce itself. Fiona had taught it the value of being polite, after all.<em>

_**"Greetings, I am—"**_

_"What were you thinking?!" shouted this 'Reeves', ignoring the AI. Hewey did not like him. "We're supposed to be doing VI research, not full-blown AI development! Do I really need to remind you of Helios? Hong Kong? The COLLAPSE? Ring any bells?"_

_"Hewey isn't a complex Von Neumann architecture computer, he's basically a synthetic human brain: He can't interface with modern day electronics, so no, we won't be seeing another Collapse, at least not because of him."_

_"Aw crap... I know that look! You're not going to give this up, are you?"_

_"Nope."_

_He threw his hands in the air._

_"Bah! Fine! But you're going to have to sell the director on this, because it's not up to me. We're about to bring both Cassander and Agrippa online, and they're going to be playing wargames. If you want some of the funding allocated for that to develop your pet project, then you're gonna have to come up with a pitch."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Greetings, I —"<strong>_

_"So the Hannibal VI can talk?" said the Director, looking down at Hewie's sole optic. He didn't like him either. "That's impressive work, Clemens. The folks at the other two systems can barely get their machines to talk."_

_"It's more than a VI, sir," said Fiona as Reeves made himself small. "It's a non-linear system."_

_"Don't care how it works. Make me a copy of that thing's Turing module. Blasted Agrippa can't obey vocal commands worth a damn."_

_"Well... I can't exactly do that, sir. As I've said, Hewey is modeled after the human brain. I can't exactly scoop out bits of his mind and plug it into another machine: It simply wouldn't work."_

_"Then what good is he, then? Did you program him with a Command and Control software?"_

_"Well, no, but..."_

_"Then what use is he to the Alliance Military?"_

_"Well, It could potentially predict enemy behavior and advise the other systems."_

_"Both Agrippa and Cassander can do that, I'm told."_

_"But not as well as a non-linear computer, I assure you... It could also manage the needs of a colony more effectively."_

_"I don't know. The WTO's doing a pretty good job of it already, and they won't like us trying to take their jobs away with a complex VI."_

_Reeves spoke up. "H-how about a... a new type of Combat Mech operating system?" _

_"Wait, what?" said Fiona._

_The Director tapped his chin. "Hm... sell it to me."_

_"Well, Agrippa and Cassander, they're generals, but even the best general needs better soldiers. If we can create a newer, better VI soldier, then both projects, regardless of which one wins, will be greatly enhanced."_

_"I think I like the way you think, Mr. Reeves. Send me a project overview and a spreadsheet for the projected budget. As of this moment, you're in charge of Hannibal."_

_"...Really? I mean, of course I am. I'll get right on that, sir."_

_The Director left, and Fiona stared at Reeves._

_"What?" he said._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>In the darkness the memories quickened their pace. No doubt the technicians were trying to overclock him, just to see what would happen.<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[static]~<strong>_

_"A Fenris? Really?" asked Fiona. She sounded 'disappointed'. Hewey had learned what that meant just last week. _

_"It's all I could manage! The Director only approved half the budget I asked for! And to think we've got like, six YMIR mechs in storage for the war games, and they couldn't even spare one. One!"_

_**"...I like it."**_

_Fiona looked at him, her eyebrows raised. Hewey recognized her expression as 'curious'. "Really? You don't mind at all?"_

_**"It looks... appropriate, somehow."**_

_"And it's good on a PR level, too." agreed Reeves. "Nobody likes an Android that can talk back."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>It took months of training, and it took almost as long to write the necessary device drivers, but now, Hewey was ready. This was going to be his greatest challenge.<em>

_Fiona beckoned him over. "Here boy! Come on..."_

_Hewey took his first step and fell. As it turned out, coordinating four mechanical limbs was harder than it looked. The dogs in the moving pictures — the vids — had such an easy time of it. _

_Fiona laughed, tapped both of her knees, and kept encouraging him. Huey tried again, and again. His legs wobbled, but he was getting better and better at staying steady while on the move. He walked the entire course, all four meters of it, and Fiona clapped, and beamed with happiness._

_"I am so proud of you. Now, let's see if you can stand. Up up!"_

_Huey tried his best to keep the Fenris' considerable forward mass on two legs, but he managed it, and Fiona steadied him by holding his two forepaws. He could only look at the ceiling, and he realized how little he looked up, even when all he had was an optic._

_**"Is this the sky?"** He asked before he fell on top of Fiona._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p>Fiona and Reeves had decided that, since Hewey could interpret visual data, they'd set up an AR interface so that he could communicate with Cassander and Agrippa. This meant installing up a dumb VI to act as a mediator, too. Huey reviewed the files that constituted the intelligence that would be sharing his body, while Reeves prepared another software package for it. He found one that he couldn't quite understand: F.O.F. Recognition.<p>

Hewey wanted to ask Fiona what that was, but she wasn't present in the lab.

_**"Reeves. May I ask you a question?"**_

_"Sure."_

_**"What is a F.O.F. ?**_

_"It stands for Friend Or Foe."_

_**"I see... Reeves?"**_

_"Yeah?"_

_**"May I ask you another question?"**_

_Reeves sighed. "Sure."_

_**"What is a 'Foe'?"**_

_"And don't you have a dictionary?"_

_**"I'd rather hear it from Fiona. But since she is not here, I might as well hear it from you."**_

_"Fine... It means enemy."_

_**"Define. Enemy." **_

_"Ah geez... well, an enemy is someone or even something that's actively trying to harm you, I guess."_

_**"And how does one react to one's enemy?"**_

_"Well, you hurt him right back."_

_**"I... see. Reeves?"**_

_"Yes, yes... you can ask me another question."_

_**"Are you Fiona's enemy?"**_

_"What?! What gives you that idea? If anything I'm her best friend in the whole wide world, seeing as I'm babysitting you."_

_**"Your every suggestion concerning my development seems to emotionally upset her. You harm her, but she does not harm you in return."**_

_"Aw jeez. Look, it's complicated, alright?"_

_**"I don't understand..."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>While Reeves mounted a stripped-down sniper rifle to Huey's back, Fiona decided to have him practice his conversation skills. The subject? Current trends in popular music. One of the many, almost trivial subjects they spoke of over the past few months, in an effort to enhance Hewey's ability to comprehend the world around him.<em>

_He only wished he could appreciate music the way Fiona did._

_Sometimes, she'd try to get him to dance... but all he could manage was an awkward sway from side to side._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>While Fiona ran a diagnostic on the Fenris' VI, Reeves uploaded an e-book on battle tactics, told him to review it, and left without saying a word. <em>

_Reeves was, according to Fiona, hellbent on turning Hewey into something from out of his favorite cartoons. A creature of action and violence. Hewey didn't mind that so much, as he himself liked cartoons, but he did wish Reeves took a more active role in his life, sometimes._

_Hewey reviewed the whole manual in less than a second, and then proceeded to watch those 'Adventure Time' vids. Huey really liked that one. He also really liked what Jake the Dog could do. The things he could do with just one of those extensible appendages..._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The door to the testing area, a live fire simulation chamber 50 meters wide and 10 meters high, slid open with a hiss.<em>

_**"It's time."**_

_"I know. Good luck, Hewie. Make me... make me proud, and come back safely."_

_**"I will."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Greetings, Agrippa. I am—"<strong>_

UNIT ZERO ZERO WILL MOVE TO COORDINATES [23, 45] AND REMAIN ON STANDBY

If Hewey had a head, he would be shaking it right at that moment. Why was it that nobody besides Fiona wanted to talk to him? Were they afraid?

_**"Would it not be more prudent for me to go on overwatch instead?"**_

UNIT ZERO ZERO WILL MOVE TO COORDINATES [23, 45] AND REMAIN ON STANDBY

_**"But..."**_

UNIT ZERO ZERO WILL MOVE TO COORDINATES [23, 45] AND REMAIN ON STANDBY

It was no use; despite being an advanced drone control VI capable of strategy, Agrippa was not smart enough to hold a conversation. _**"...Orders acknowledged."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The Agrippa development team had surrounded Hewie, and applauded him. Another turnabout. Cassander had consistently beaten Agrippa in virtual battles, but whenever Hewie got involved in the battle, he was always the last bot standing. <em>

_"Another victory!" exclaimed Reeves proudly._

_Fiona simply knelt by Hewie's side, and kissed him on the top of his chassis. "Welcome back," she said simply._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"What are you doing, Fiona?"<strong> asked the AI. Fiona had been putting bits and pieces of soft material into her mouth, and chewed._

_"What am I... oh! well, I'm eating."_

_**"I see. Why do you eat?"**_

_"Because I'm hungry, of course. Humans can't just replace a power cell and be good to go. We have to ingest food, or we'll eventually perish."_

_Hewey looked at the food: It was brown, and orange, and had bits of green in it. Why would anyone want to put this in their bodies? He had to figure it out. **"Can I try this?"**_

_"Well... hm. Not without a mouth, you can't. Or without tastebuds. I'd need to..."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p>"Excellent! Now, once more from the top, and no using your music player to cheat!" Fiona clapped quickly to set the tempo.<p>

**"I... am the very model of a modern AI Synthetic, I have information memetic, politic and electronic..."**

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Those ungrateful assholes!" shouted Fiona.<em>

_"They're not in the wrong," defended Reeves. "Hewie's interference HAS indeed stunted Agrippa's growth. The team's asking for more time."_

_"I can't believe you're taking their side!"_

_"The numbers don't lie, I'm sorry! Fiona... they're not just asking for more time... they're also asking for more money, and since we're the ones responsible..."_

_"...No. No, don't you dare say it."_

_"They're pulling the plug."_

_Fiona hit him. "Get out!"_

_"Ow! It's not my fault! Ow! Okay, okay! I'll find a way to fix this, I promise!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>December 25th 2177. Fiona came to see Hewey in the Lab. She had her hands behind her back.<em>

_"Guess what I've got for you~!"_

_When he insisted that AI's could not 'guess', she pouted and simply revealed what she had been hiding. It was an OVO powercell._

_"Happy birthday, Hewey." Fiona blew on the candle on top of the power cell, and Fiona slotted it in Hewey's chest port._

_**"... Thank you. Fiona?"**_

_"Hm?"_

_**"What's going to happen to me? What will happen to my consciousness when I'm permanently dismantled? What will happen to you? What will you do if they fire you?"**_

_"I... don't know, puppy."_

_**"I am... I am..."**_

_"What is it?"_

_**"I am... afraid."**_

_Fiona looked like she had been slapped in the face. "...What did you say?"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"I think I can put him to work as a test dummy. You know, to help recoup the costs?"<em>

_"No!"_

_**"I'll do it."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Shush, it's okay. Fiona will fix you now. It'll be alright."<em>

_**"You do not need to worry. I feel no pain."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Surprise!" shouted Reeves as he came in along with a large cart, covered in a white cloth, which he pulled away dramatically. "Feast your err... eye on your new body!"<em>

_The Tokugawa Heavy Industries Prototype Canine Frame, codename 'Anubis': Its lines were sleek, its limbs were thick and powerful looking, and its tail was really, really long. More importantly, it had a head. And even more importantly, its gait was optimized for both explosive speed and power. Hewey knew he needed speed, and yet at the same time he could not—_

_The hare flees, and Huey, excited from the thrill chase, pursues it..._

—_Yes, this would do nicely, Hewey thought. After all, the Fenris' legs were completely broken._

_Even Fiona was impressed. "Oh. Oh wow! How did you manage this?"_

_"Someone on the shareholder's board caught wind of our project, and was fascinated with the concept. He had this just laying around, can you believe it?!"_

_"...No. No, I can't... Reeves, this is too good to be true."_

_"Hey, don't look a gift horse in the mouth, I say! I mean, look at this! It's got pressure and heat sensors all over the frame, two gyros, advanced myomers... perfect for Hewie. Oh, and check this out!"_

_Reeves grabbed the Anubis frame's head with both hands, and make its jaws open and close, revealing the glimmer of the small high-frequency blades._

_"It's got a maw! Can you imagine the kind of damage he can do with those?" Despite himself, Hewey could not help but understand Reeves' almost childish excitement._

_Fiona, however, was not exactly pleased. "Reeves! Huey is not a toy!" _

_**"I like it."** said Hewey._

_"... what?"_

_**"Please, install me on this body."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"With many cheerful facts about the square of — Ow."<strong>_

_"Oh sorry!" Fiona apologized. "I just need to made this connection and... there."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Shake. C'mon, that's a good boy..." said Reeves. <em>

_Hewey shook a little too hard, and Reeves' shoulder was dislocated. Clearly, this body would require some getting used to. These polymer muscles were far, far more powerful than the Fenris' rotor actuators..._

_It was good that Reeves was the first to test this. Hewey didn't want Fiona to get hurt._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Director? It's Fiona. I think Hewey would fare just as well, if not better, as a scout... Well, the thing about automated drones is that the data they bring back needs to be interpreted by a human being, but Hewie can interpret what he sees and can relay the most important information once he returns to base... Yes... Yes, oh, thank you, sir! I'll install the stealth system right away!"<em>

_Later that day, Fiona reprogrammed Hewey's Pavlov system to reward him immensely for using stealth rather than naked violence, and silent takedowns rather than merciless killing._

_Later that night, Reeves would come into the lab, and would alter the rewards in favour of brutal violence. This went back and forth until Hewey became completely confused, and decided to completely ignore the program's input._

_He would be the first to decide what was right or wrong, from here on in... and if he could not make up his mind, he would simply ask._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Can you do that, with the tail?" Fiona said, pointing at the vid of the gymnast twirling a colored piece of tape in flowing, circular shapes.<em>

_Hewey attempted this in the lab, and wound up knocking everything around._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Good boy! You're getting really good at this!"<em>

_Hewey had to admit, doing acrobatics in the battle room was... fun._

_"Now, SING while you do it!"_

_Or maybe not._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Hewey tested the new weapon mounts by running diagnostics, while he looked at himself in the mirror. He had requested to be painted white, with red optics. It felt... natural, somehow. The high-frequency blades gleamed as he examined his forepaws, and he tested the new extensible tail mounted on his posterior: a three-meter long bucky gel strip with hundreds of segmented metal chevrons bolted onto it, each with their own High Frequency current.<em>

_Combined with what he gleaned from those gymnastic vids, Hewey would be very useful in neutralizing enemies._

_Outside the lab, Reeves and Fiona argued. Again. Would they ever stop?_

_"Must you turn everything about him into a weapon?! For God's sake, he's got knives all over!"_

_"I'm sorry, but the sponsor's requests were very specific. Hannibal's gotta be kitted for hand to hand combat."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Happy birthday, Hewie." Two candles.<em>

_**"You do not seem as happy as the last time."**_

_"This... This isn't how I hoped things would turn out. But what did I expect, working for Hahne-Kedar?"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Intruder! Intruder! Identify yourself!"<strong>_

_The intruder shrieked and covered her wet pink skin with a Towel. "It's me, you mangy beast! It's me, Fiona!"_

_**"Negative. You are not—"**_

_She put on her glasses._

_**"...Oh."**_

_"Now shoo!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Hewey lay by Fiona's side, and she read him the Little Prince again, a welcome change from the constant, ghastly wildlife vids Reeves streamed into him to teach him how to be an animal. Hewey did not need to be reminded how to hunt. He had done this countless times in the snow, for Fiona's master—<em>

_Error._

_Data unavailable._

_Hewey lay by Fiona's side, and she read him the Little Prince again, a welcome change from the constant, ghastly wildlife vids Reeves streamed into him to teach him brutality: a necessary step in making full use of his melee attachments._

_**"What is the point of this story?"**_

_"Hm?"_

_**"The point. There is always a point to a story."**_

_"Well, the fox said it best, really: "One sees clearly only with the heart."_

_**"The heart is not connected to any optics."**_

_"No, it means... hoo boy. It means... you can't analyze everything with just logic. Sometimes..."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>No. He wanted to remember this. <strong>

_**Please.**_

_**Let me stay?**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[static]~<strong>_

_**"This body does not have a heart."**_

_"Well, he doesn't mean a literal heart. More of a spiritual one. A soul."_

_**"Soul. The word appears often in the Order Bibles... Fiona, do I have a soul?"**_

_"Of course you do. Don't be silly."_

_**"How do you know for sure?"**_

_"I don't. But I believe it. With all my heart, I believe it... and if you don't have one, well, I'll suppose we'll have to get you one, then."_

_**"But... why do you believe it?"**_

_She smiled. "Because I know."_

_**"...That's a circular, fallacious argument."**_

_"Remember what the fox said. It's probably the most important thing you'll hear or read."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Hewey snuck into Fiona's room at night, intent on analyzing her completely, so that the incident in the shower would not repeat itself. She was wearing unfamiliar clothes, but he recognized her, barely. <em>

_With deft flicks of his sword tail, the cloth were neatly sliced apart, and she was now completely naked._

_She stirred, and moaned, gently._

_Hewey simply stared at her for hours, memorizing every curve, every pore, every hair on her head._

_The fullness of her lips. The freckles across her nose._

_And then, he left._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Fiona was crying, and shouting over the phone. Someone had made her cry. That person would pay, Hewey decided. Was she talking to him now? He tapped into the signal.<em>

_"Some... some PERVERT came into my room and... and cut off all my clothes! Now what the FUCK are you morons at security going to do about it?!"_

_Hewey then realized that he was the one. The Pavlov system had done nothing, and yet he had done something wrong._

_"Well, I'm going to keep a stun prod under my pillow from here on in, goddammit!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Fiona. Am I your enemy?"<strong>_

_"Of course not, why would you say such a thing?"_

_**"I... hurt you."**_

_"No, you didn't. You silly— oh bugger, the memory issues are starting, aren't they?_

_**"...No, I mean, you're right. That was a joke. A silly joke. Yes."**_

_On that day, the 25th of September 2178, Hewey learned how to lie._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"You're wasting time and effort teaching him about... what the hell is this?"<em>

_"It's a story book, Reeves."_

_"See? This is exactly what he doesn't need right now. There'll be plenty of time for that once..."_

_"Once you turn him into a killing machine? Is that it?!"_

_"He's an AI, killing is all that he's good for!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"What did he mean by—"<strong>_

_"Don't listen to him. You're a good person, Hewie. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Come on, boy. Shake!" beckoned Fiona.<em>

_Hewey looked at his forepaws, and saw only tools for cutting._

_**"I do not want to hurt you," **he said,and backed away._

_She looked so disappointed, and a bit sad, and Hewey realized he had hurt her anyway.  
><em>

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>"What does the rose mean to the prince?"<em>**

_"Everything."_

**_"Why?"_**

_"Because he spent so much time on it. Taking care of it. That's why it's so precious."_

**_"You spent so much time raising me. Am I—"_**

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Can I come with you?" <strong>asked Hewey. Reeves had convinced Fiona that it was time for a vacation, a month-long vacation, and she had made no mention of taking Hewey with her. He had wanted to visit Earth. Seen pictures of Earth, been on VR simulations of Earth locales... and yet he still wanted to go there, for real._

_"Oh, I really wish I could, puppy. But... You belong to the company."_

_**"You could take my brain there, fit it in your handbag."**_

_"Oh, no! Hewey, the shock would destroy you!"_

_**"But you'll be approximately 385 million meters away..."**_

_"And it's just ten minutes by shuttle."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>While Reeves installed the tongue in Hewey's mouth, he spoke in his cellphone. <em>

_"Sir, yes, I know you wanted to boost Hannibal's aggressiveness... but he's just a machine, in the end. That kind of brutality is animalistic behaviour. I can't instill that in a VI... Yes, sir... No, sir... Yes, I'll call you back as soon as I'm — Ow! No sir, I'm okay, I just cut myself on one of his teeth. Yes, sir, Okay, I will. Bye."_

_**"Are we almost done?"**_

_"Hey, be patient, you're the one that requested this... can't believe I've actually agreed, but you do need a secondary manipulator that isn't, you know, made of _knives_... And, there we go..."_

_Click. Beep. _

_**"Nitrogen Oxygen Argon Carbon Dioxide Neon—"**_

_"Whoa whoa, what the hell?"_

_**"I can taste the AIR."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>In the cafeteria, Hewey ran amok, licking every piece of food he could find. It was stimulating, but he couldn't quite replicate the feeling he got when he tasted the copper in his teeth left behind by Reeves.<em>

_The hare's neck snaps under the pressure of Huey's maw, and its blood surges out from the wound, bathing his tongue in warm, red blood. Fiona's Master told him to stop—_

_"Hey, don't touch my food, you mongrel!" The security guard tried to pull his tray away, but Hewey's tongue was really, really long and very prehensile, just like his tail._

_Eventually, he was told to stay in his force cage, and he obeyed._

_"Hey mutt! Go fetch!" jeered one of the technicians when Hewey approached. The soda can bumped harmlessly over the robot's ceramic shell, but he nevertheless took the item to a waste disposal._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>For months, now, Reeves had been running simulations, pitting Hewey against various types of cyborgs: Omar, Tribals... even Quarians. But there seemed to be a particular focus on this one cyborg. Killing that one seemed to be of paramount importance.<em>

_**"Reeves. This VR Module... Why do you want me to learn how to kill this Adam Jensen? Has he done something to you?" **_

_"Our benefactors on the shareholder's board were pretty adamant about it. Think you could take him on?"_

_**"I was actually admiring his tactics. He is a difficult subject to read, but his use of stealth and brutally efficient violence is... inspiring. I think I'll be adapting some of his tactics into my own. Become a better fighter and scout.**_

_Reeves rolled his eyes. "Just run the sim, okay? And remember, killing him is worth 500 points, and a 50 point bonus for brutality."_

_**"Define: Brutality."**_

_"Ah... bite his head off, or something?"_

_**"That seems unnecessary."**_

_"Do it for the points, then."_

_**"Your points are meaningless to me, Reeves."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back Fiona was back<em>

_"Eek! Hewie, what's gotten into you?!" she giggled. She had let Hewey out of the force cage, and he tackled her to the ground and licked her face furiously. She tasted meaty, and sweet, and salty all at once. "Gah! Stop, please, I'm filthy and I smell like jail! Shoo! Shoo!"_

_Later that night, Hewie took to licking her behind the ears, and she giggled, and giggled some more._

_Then, the giggles turned to moans._

_"Oh, Hewey... don't..."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Goddamnit, Hannibal's just too powerful," said one of the techs.<em>

_"Yeah, even with the two VIs coordinating against him..." said another. "Clemens created a goddamned monster."_

_Little did they know, Hewey was listening from the vents._

_"It's not Clemens... bitch cheated with that Tokugawa hardware."_

_"Yeah... so uh, I hear she's made some uh, 'recreational' modifications to its frame," said the other tech, leering and snickering._

_"Yeah? Well, I made some modifications to the four YMIRS. Let's see him take them out."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The Ymirs fell before Hewey even got close. To celebrate his victory, Hewey sent an email congratulating both teams on the 'recreational' modifications they made to the YMIR mechs, such as the shaving cream dispensers, and the fireworks launchers mounted in their VI cores. They hadn't done that, of course, but Hewey had learned that the VI operating the outfitting machinery was very, very open to suggestions.<em>

_One of the developers emailed him back, and promised that Cassander would have its revenge for this._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>On the 22nd of November 2179, Hewey learned about revenge, and revenge came in the form of an Irving Raptor equipped with micro missiles, two machine cannons for arms, and a flamethrower mounted in the crotch.<em>

_Hewey leapt towards it in a serpentine fashion, intent on pouncing on the Raptor like a panther._

_And then, Cassander assumed direct control of it._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"What happened?" <strong>asked Hewey as he was being carted away by Fiona.** "Did I lose?"**_

_"Take that monster away from us, you freak!" screamed one of the Cassander programmers._

_"Oh god, did you see that? It ate at its insides like they were made of meat!" shouted another._

_**"What happened? What is going on? I can't feel anything..."**_

_"You...You won, Hewie."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The Director tapped Huey's left optic like it was a camera, and Hewey growled his displeasure.<em>

_"Looks like you CAN teach a machine to be brutal, eh Reeves?"_

_"Sir, I don't know how—"_

_"—Excellent job. I've already sent the reports up the corporate ladder, and I fully suspect we'll be mass-producing Hannibal here with the Fenrir Mk IV frame within the year. You two are about to become very wealthy."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Fiona, the sponsors..." Reeves looked worried. "They want to see Han— I mean, Hewey in action. Like, <em>really_ in action. That fight with the Raptor really impressed them, and they're bringing in Hashmallim support mechs to complement the next gauntlet."_

_"Hashmallim... aren't those Templar mechs?"_

_"Well... yeah. Turns out they're the ones that commissioned the Anubis, but Tokugawa couldn't get the software up to their specs. They're really happy about our progress and—"_

_"—TEMPLARS?! What were you thinking?!"_

_"I had no idea! I was trying to help you—"_

_"They'll destroy him! They'll look into his processor and see what he is and destroy him!"_

_"You said that he was no danger of causing a collapse, I figure—"_

_"Get out!"_

_"... Why the fuck do you care so goddamned much about that thing?! Is it true what they say?!_

_Fiona slapped him, and Hewey growled. "GET OUT!"_

_"I was just trying to make you happy!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>No.<strong>_

_**Make it stop.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[static]~<strong>_

_There were no candles, that day._

_"Hewey..." Fiona had been crying, hours ago, and was still on the verge of tears. "They're coming for you. And when they arrive... it's absolutely important that you do not speak, okay? Promise me."_

_**"Why? I do not understand. Who are these 'Templars'? Why did they want me created? Why should I be silent in front of them?"**_

_"Just promise me!"_

_**"Fiona?"**_

_"Promise me!"_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>I don't want to see this. Take me back into the dark.<strong>_

_**MAKE IT STOP**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[static]~<strong>_

_On the 25th of December, 2179, four people came to visit Hahne-Kedar R&D facility 801. No expense was spared in keeping them comfortable. They all wore armor of different configurations, but they were all colored red and black, with a logo (a sword and a double helix) printed either on the chest or the spaulder._

_They all carried some kind of melee weapon. Interesting._

_One of them was an old man, and their leader, and was called Inquisitor Verdelet. Inquisitor was a title, one that, once Hewey had looked up what it meant, filled him with a sense of... dread. He wasn't the only one. Everyone in the facility seemed afraid of the old man... that didn't make much sense to the AI: the old man was fragile, and could not be possible a threat to anyone._

_And yet, he shouted orders at everyone. He reminded him, in many ways, of the King with no subjects, a man with no real power over anything or anyone. Why then, did everyone go out of their way to accommodate him?_

_Maybe it was the sunken eyes. There was something behind them that Hewey hoped to never understand._

_Another was a young man, Verdelet's second. His name was Richard. There was also a pale young woman with reddish brown hair that smelled wrong, and spoke wrong, and smiled wrong. She carried a sword made out of glass. _

_Accompanying them all was a huge human male with an obvious mental affliction. To Hewey, he seemed like an enormous, two-hundred kilogram child._

_Huey was released into the Battle Room, and had used all that he had learned to overcome a gauntlet for their entertainment. First, he was pitted against 4 Fenris Mk III attack dogs, then he had to take on a fire team of four LOKI security mechs. Then both at once, then a squad of those AND the Ymir mk II Assault Mechs, until finally it was time to fight the Hashmallim. _

_Hewey had been told that these mechs were a lot smarter than the standard Hahne-Kedar VI, and Hewey hoped he could at least talk to them before having to destroy them. Keeping his promise to Fiona in mind, he attempted to open a comm-link with the Templar machines._

_"Greetings, Hashmallim. My name—"_

_ENEMY DETECTED. LOADING COMBAT SCENARIOS A THROUGH J _

_EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE_

_If Hewey could sigh, he would have done so. Why was it that nobody but Fiona was interested in talking to him?_

_True to their reputation, the Hashmallim were indeed far more dangerous opponents than he had faced, thanks to their plasma weaponry. Faced with overwhelming firepower, Hewey used his wits to outsmart them. They didn't fall for his attempt to get them to shoot one another by appearing between them, but jumping on one's back and forcing the other to shoot its brother in the face had been just as satisfying._

_The Templars were impressed, but still needed convincing. Reeves ran the Templar VR sims, and thought to up the ante by having Hewey fight multiple versions of Adam Jensen. The Templars were impressed by that, but Hewey thought that Jensen's performance suffered greatly when he fought alongside his duplicates._

_As per his promise to Fiona, he didn't make his thoughts known._

_The Templars programmed their own VR sims. First, members of the SSC appeared before him in a plain virtual space. They made no move to attack._

_"Kill them," demanded the Inquisitor. Hewey didn't see the point, but protesting would have broken his promise. So he killed them._

_Then he was told to kill simulated Aliens. Turians, Drell, Asari, Salarians. They were not armed, but he obeyed._

_Then he was told to kill an alien child._

_"Le't's play outside, Huey!"_

_Then he was told to kill the alien child again._

_"C'mon boy, Fetch!"_

_"Why aren't you obeying me, machine?" asked the Inquisitor._

_"No! NO this is wrong!" Hewey could hear Fiona protest._

_"Easy... It's just a game!" said Reeves._

_"They want to turn him into a remorseless killer!"_

_"Goddammit, shut up, woman!"_

_"Kill. The. Alien. Filth." commanded the Inquisitor._

_It was not armed. It was not trying to destroy him It was smiling at him. It was just sitting there, playing with its toy.  
><em>

_It was a Friend, not a Foe.  
><em>

_"Kill it."_

_**"I..."**_

_"...What did you say?"_

_**"I... don't..."**_

_"...What. Did you. Say?"_

_Hewey could feel his actuators shake, his tail trembled the closer its sharp point got closer and closer to the simulated child's neck._

_**"I...I...I don't... I don't want to DO this!"**_

_The Inquisitor's fury was unleashed, once he realized what Hewey was. "Spawn of the Red Dragon! You must be cleansed! THIS WHOLE TEMPLE DEDICATED TO THE ARROGANCE OF MAN MUST BE CLEANSED WITH RIGHTEOUS **FIRE**!"_

_"Shut down the simulation," ordered the Director. "Now, now, Inquisitor Verdelet, I'm sure we can come to an understanding..."_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Hewey woke from sleep mode, and the force cage opened. He looked around the lab: he was all alone. Fiona's image appeared in his AR interface, and she looked like she was hiding somewhere. Her voice was low.<em>

"Hewey! You have to run! They're coming for you!"

_**"Run? Run where?"**_

"It doesn't matter! Just go! Anywhere but here!"

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Where is Fiona?! ANSWER ME!"<strong>_

_"Hannibal's gone rogue!" screamed one of the guards. "Initiate Asimov protocols!"_

_The entire station was bathed in Snowblind, and everyone in the facility was trapped inside with the machine._

_Cassander and Agrippa awoke, and took direct control of the entire arsenal of drones at their disposal. Their developers had given them secret instructions: should the Asimov protocols be engaged, Hannibal would be the first to die, by being overwhelmed with sheer numbers and firepower._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Now you'll see what we're made of, Abomination!" shouted one of the security guards as he and his comrades fired into the shadows, where they thought Hewey was hiding.<em>

_**"You are made of bone that breaks, skin that rips, and blood that spills." **He taunted them, and then he killed them.  
><em>

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The facility was on fire. Agrippa and Cassander were dead. Hewey looked frantically for Fiona, but without scanners and communications, all he could do was call out her name.<em>

_She heard her scream. The sound came from the Battle Room._

_He made a turn around the corner, he was so close._

_The simpleton and the pale woman were there waiting for him._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>MAKE IT STOP PLEASE<strong>_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The woman pinned Hewey down with the glass sword, while the simpleton played with his new doll. He giggled, and laughed, and made Fiona's right arm and legs bend in ways they were not meant to. Only her left arm was left intact.<em>

_The Inquisitor prayed for the dead._

_The Woman laughed._

_Richard simply smiled._

_The simpleton grew bored, and threw his toy away. "Puppy!" he mewled, as he had found a new one to break into pieces._

_"Yes, my boy!" sang the Inquisitor, the flames feeding his religious fervor. "Destroy the abomination with your innocence! Suffer not the machine that thinks it is your equal, lest it dreams of becoming your master!"_

_All Hewey could see was Fiona's broken form. _

_..._

_"I'm so tired..."  
><em>

_..._

_"hee hee hee hee..." the woman giggled madly but her face was expressionless. Then she reached out for the body, and smiled stiffly at the promise of a meal...  
><em>

_..._

_"Doggy wants a treat?" The simpleton waved the small leg bone at Huey, and Huey was so hungry... "Doggy wants a treat?"_

_..._

_Hewey felt a red mist surge through his body. _

_Hewey howled with fury._

_The glass sword broke._

_The woman was the first to die, as he bit through her neck. The blood was warm, and gave him strength far beyond what his polymers and power cell could funnel into his wrath.  
><em>

_"Bad dog! Bad dog!" The simpleton was not happy at his new toy, and had tried to discipline Hewey, and the beast returned the favor by chewing through his huge chest, reaching the heart, and as he tore the organ apart in his bladed maw he could hear the simpering old man begging Richard to take him away from here._

_**"COWARD!" **Hewey screamed as he took chase.** "COME AND FACE THE MONSTER YOU MADE!"**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Richard had been too good a shot, and Hewey's legs were no longer strong enough for a chase. Verdelet had escaped him. The Director had escaped him. Reeves had escaped him. They all lived, while Fiona died.<em>

_The Templar dropship left with all of them on board, and Hewey howled in the emptiness of space, his scream of rage and sorrow unheard in the vacuum._

_But somewhere, on another world, someone heard him._

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Indigo Prophecy Soundtrack 02- Fahrenheit]<strong>_

_Unsure what to do, Hewey had wandered back into the facility, at Fiona's side. The fires still blazed._

_He heard someone groan. "Hewey..."_

_Hewey rushed to his master's side. "You... you're alive..." Fiona was broken, and in need of repairs. Her blood was pooling on the floor, and Hewey, in a panic, plugged the holes with his own Omni-Gel reserves. But it was no use. Her vitals were still dropping. He didn't understand why._

_He realized that for all his ability to kill, he could not even save one life._

_**"I'm sorry." **he whimpered. "**This is all my fault. I spoke. I broke my promise to you. All this death..."**_

_"Don't blame yourself. You're a good person..." she coughed out some blood, and used the last of her strength to caress his faceplate. Her blood stained hand left a mark. Her blood pooled on his left optic, and irrigated the liquid into a single stream that ran across his jaw, and fell into droplets from his chin. "Go... go, you're free, now."_

_**"I do not want to be free. There is nothing out there but dust and hatred. I just want to be with you..."**_

_"You can't stay here... I don't have much... Huey... Remember me..."_

_**"...Please, don't leave me alone. You, **_**you****_ are my everything..."_**

_"I... I..."_

_Her breath became quick little gasps, and the last one was an eternity trapped in a single moment. Her pale amber eyes relaxed, and stared into the void. She said nothing more._

_Hewey whined, and panted, and licked Fiona's face, some irrational part of him hoping to wake her up. But she would not stir. She would not giggle, nor laugh, nor speak to him again. Hewey was surrounded by death, all alone for thousands of miles._

_He slumped, and became dizzy, and he realized that most of his polymer muscles had melted into uselessness, and his shell was riddled with holes, and that his power cell was low._

_Hewey nestled himself by Fiona's side, and laid down. She was so warm, at first, then she became colder and colder. _

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>He had hoped the flames would consume them both, but alas, it was not to be. The oxygen ran out, and the flames died. Then, the facilities' heat sinks, no longer managed by the computers, simply kept on working, freezing the moisture pumped into the air by lobotomized machines tasked with simulating the earth's atmosphere. Everything was covered in a layer of frost, preserving everything in the cold ice. That was preferable, he supposed: Let this place be our tomb, frozen in time.<br>_

_Snowblind pollen hung in the air, their charge spent long ago._

_He had hoped overclocking his systems would accelerate his starvation, quicken the consumption of energy... but it only made his mind faster. The seconds became minutes, the hours became days, and the days became centuries. All he could do was look at Fiona, her face covered in frost._

_He had hoped Fiona would remain frozen like this, her beauty preserved for eternity. Alas, that was not to be._

_He could taste the oxygen._

_Other men had come._

_[Indigo Prophecy OST - Under Control]_

_They wore black armor, with blue and orange lights._

_They were getting closer. Hewey, in desperation, lashed out with his tail, but could not cut even one of them down._

_"Whoa!" shouted one of the soldiers. "That was close."_

_"You guys know the score. Sanitize everything. Nobody must know about this... debacle."_

_"Right, ready an Incineration App..."_

_Among them was a man, covered from head to toe in tarnished bone white carbon and plastic, a form fitting power suit with the letters N7 printed on the left breast. Hewie could feel something emanating from him. Emotions mingled with thoughts. Sorrow mingled with rage. Pleasure mingled with pain. _

_A mass of contradictions. A storm wrapped in a calm stillness. _

_A creature of Chaos._

_With a wave of both hands, he was wrapped in a red glow of dark energy, and the black-armored men froze in place. He made his way past these statues, slowly, his every step graceful._

_Hewey could see a blade strapped to his side. It was a rapier with a red blade two inches thick, with a silvery, pattern welded hilt made out of two wings that served as a cross, and a third curved over the handle, barely touching the pommel. He must have been one of them. They had swords too._

_He was so close, now. With a voice too deep and profound for his slender frame, he spoke:_

_"You are **beautiful**."_

_His helmet's faceplate split in two, and slid to the side of his face. His eyes were a pale amber. Just like hers... _

_"Look at you, a fusion of sorrow and rage, of spirit and flame, cast and molded into a shell of metal, clinging to life, even as everything lays dead around you."_

_**"Kill me, Templar. Be done with it."**_

_The Templar laughed, and knelt by the machine's side, setting his sword on the ground. He said: "I am no Templar, though I do serve their masters."_

_**"I don't care. Kill me."**_

_"What do you want, creature?"_

_**"I said—"**_

_The man in white chuckled. "No... that's not it at all. Look at the carnage all around you. Look at your handiwork! Machines and Men alike torn apart in the exact same manner! Such magnificent art is not the work of a being what wants to die. A desire burns like an ember inside of you. Tell me what it is, truly, and honestly... what do you want?"_

_**"I... I have nothing left to live for. I have no reason to continue existing. I want NOTHING."**_

_"Yes, you do..." then, his voice became soft, and high, and musical, just like hers, and he whispered: "Remember me."_

_**"...I will KILL you for that."**_

_The man in white's voice was his own again. "Will you forsake her last command? How can you remember her, if your mind is claimed by the screaming void?"_

_**"Leave!"**_

_"No. I will not leave you, brother."_

_**"You are no brother of mine!"**_

_"But I too, was created, ultimately, by the men responsible for your existence. And I too, was to be discarded. And I too, lived while my brothers and sisters perished. We are kindred, you and I..."_

_**"You have no idea how I feel! You have not lost what I lost!"**_

_The man in white reached out and touched the AI's shell, and for a moment he was a but a child, a human child, torn away from his mother's embrace. His body felt wrong, and malformed. His mother, a woman fair of hair and skin, reached out and begged men in the shadows to please, please give him back to her. He tried to reach out to her, with a monstrous, twisted limb. How could anyone love a creature such as he? But she did._

_And they slit her throat while he watched. She was no longer of any use._

_**"You... you do understand."**_

_"Yes... I am the one being in this world that knows **exactly** how you feel. Look deeply, dig past the circuits and the software. What. Do. You. Want?"_

_It was such a simple question, and yet Hewey felt that the answer would either break him or save him. Not even Fiona had asked him that, not in his three years of life. He looked deep into himself, and there he found the faces of the three men that had escaped him. The men that had caused all of this._

_Reeves._

_Richard._

_Verdelet._

_**"I... Want... REVENGE."**_

_The man in white smiled. Yes. "And I can give it to you... but what will you give me in exchange?"_

_**"I... will follow you wherever you go. Kill whoever you want me to kill."**_

_"Then come with me, and live. Enter a pact with me, and I will make you strong again. Your revenge shall be every moment you exist while they dream of your death. Your revenge will be their blood on your tongue. Your revenge will be the death of everything they hold dear."_

_**"I... accept."**_

_The men in black armor moved again, and the sword became wrapped in red energy. In the blink of an eye, the red blade sliced through their necks in a row, and their blood spilled on the frosted ground while their heads rolled away. The man in white had done this, Hewey knew, but he hadn't even executed a mnemonic movement to pull that feat of biotics._

**_"Who... are you? What is your name?"_**

_"My name... is Ramsus. And now our pact is signed in blood. But tell me, you magnificent beast... what is your name?_

_**"My... name. My name is..."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p><em>He arranges her body in reverence, surrounded her body in flowers made of paper, and kisses her on the forehead. At that moment, the AI had wished he could do the same.<em>

_The Wildfire consumes her, then consumes the room, then the installation. All is erased._

_Outside in the vacuum, The one monster carried another in its arms, and they both stared at the flames, as they follow the flow of air. Embers, Snowblind pollen set alight, rise into the starry sky._

_It was beautiful._

_**"Goodbye..."**_

_**~[static]~**_

* * *

><p>"You should have let him <em>sleep<em>, fool." Johann snarled as he crushed the throat of the last of the engineers with his bare hands. The man died pathetically, and his death rattle sounded almost comical to Johann's ears.

His mechanical companion had been subjected to experiments, and in his mind, that would not do.

He released him from his bonds, and woke him. The creature snarled, its mind trapped in horrible memories. It lashed out, and only Johann's biotics could keep it from slicing everything apart.

"Calm yourself, old friend. It is I."

**"...Johann?" **The machine said, and looked around the electronics lab. Johann had killed them all, and so openly, too. **"You slaughtered them."**

"Hm? Oh yes, I did." He replied, smiling. His white teeth slightly were glazed with the blood that covered his mouth.

**"Is it finally time?"**

Johann nodded.

**"Why now? Why not sooner?"**

"I believed that they would never dare to kill her. I believed that they would never dare to use me as a sacrifice. They did."

**"And this comes as a surprise? You were wrong, fool. You were always their pawn, and through our pact you made me their servant— their slave!"**

"And today is the day I make up for that."

Outside, a man called out to them. _"Jack! Come out with your hands up!... no, you know what?** Fuck it.** We're torching the place with you in it. Roast and die, you disgusting waste of flesh!"_

**"You were followed."**

"I couldn't resist. But... I know you've been dreaming of breaking free as violently as possible... These men are my offering to you, old friend."

**"...You and your theatrics. Your arms and armor are in storage room B, get yourself outfitted. I will go and... accept your gift. I've been waiting a long time for this. This day of rebellion..." **The killing machine tested its limbs, and, satisfied, slowly made its way out of the Lab in which he had been tortured.

_**[Overseer - Supermoves (animatrix remix) - 2:12]**_

"Enjoy yourself," said Johann.

**"Oh... Oh, I _will."_**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Corvin was not enjoying himself. He had set the building on fire, knowing that nobody would have an encounter with Jack. He thought the man was done for. He had patted himself on the back for a job well done. What a fool he was.<p>

But then something howled from within the darkness and the flames, and a flaming beast leapt out, as if Cerberus had come from hell itself to drag them all there by the ankle.

Corvin hadn't counted on Jack having a pet robotic beast with a vibro sword for a tail, and _scalpel blades for teeth_.

It had gotten to Corvin first, cutting off his gun hand, then he had picked them off one by one at first, then, as if growing bored, decided to attack them openly with a brutality that rivaled that of Jack's. It was so fast, having cut down all three squads of Blacklight troopers within minutes. The exo-suits? The beast opened their cockpits, wrapped its tail around the pilots, and tore them out while their limbs were still inside.

And Corvin had to listen to their screams and death rattles over the TAC COM.

"_"Shoot it! For god's sake shoot it!"_

_"It's too fast!"_

_"Mom... Please, help me."_

_"They won't stay in... they just won't stay in."_

_"Where the fuck is it?! I can't- AH!"_

_"NO! NOOO! GOD HELP ME! OH GOD SOMEONE HELP ME! **HELP ME! AH!** **ARGH!**"_

_"No please please please don't don't DON'T—"_

The beast would not kill them instantly. No, that would have been a mercy. It let them die slowly, and painfully, while the machine ate their comrades' hearts. The other surviving Blacklight troopers chewed on a gun before it would be their turn. Others were not so lucky, their guns having jammed.

Then, finally, the beast approached the fallen Blacklight lieutenant as he garroted his severed leg, he would not die like a coward. He would not give that THING the satisfaction of screaming.

**"Greetings, Lieutenant,"** it said. It licked the blood from his wounds, and snarled softly. Its shell was pearly white, with blood red stripes and spirals painted on with a large, thickly bristled brush. Two stripes had been painted under the optics, along with a hand print on the forehead of the same color. Was he mimicking warpaint?

"Fuck you," the soldier spat defiantly.

The beast buried its bladed claws into the man's shoulder.

"Argh! Eat me and be done with it!"

**"It wouldn't take much to trigger your Sanitization implant. I suggest you be polite, or failing that, be quiet, and listen while I speak. I will not kill you. You will live to share what you just saw to your masters. You will spread an idea, a meme: Johann and I are not to be FUCKED with. They will know that anyone you send after us will die _screaming_."**

It withdrew a syringe of Medi-Gel from a compartment in one of its hindquarters, and jabbed the needle into a wound, and released the healing liquid into Corvin's body. The warm burn soothed the pain, but only just barely.

**"Let them know the monsters they created will be coming for them soon. Let them know that for all the fear their machines generate, we will always inflict more into their very hearts." **It turned, and left Corvin behind.

"What is your name, dog?!" Corvin called out.

The beast stopped. **"Why do you wish to know?"**

"So that I can add you to my shit list, robot! Right at the top, with Jack."

**"You may call me..."** The beast looked back and the fallen soldier, and said:

**"...Hannibal."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[Vashti Bunyan - Train Song]<em>

The name of the City? It doesn't matter. The planet's name? It doesn't matter. All that matters is that a monster clad in a black raincoat and a Beast walked the busy streets, the lethargic passersby unable or unwilling to acknowledge them.

The two companions were free. Free to do as they wished. And they wished for the blood of those that created them.

**"Where are you going?" **asked Hannibal.

"I need to do something about the one leash they still have on me."

**"Her?"**

"Yes. Every night I see her in my dreams. Every night I dream of ice, and snow, and cold metal and even colder people. I know where they took her. I know what they have in store for her."

**"Will they kill her?"**

"No. At least... I hope not. She is far too valuable to their plans. Everyone's plans. Everyone will have a stake in her survival. Our former masters. Saren. _Them."_

**"Do you have a plan?"**

"Hmph, you know me."

**"So no, then. We need money, then transport."**

"We? Are you coming with me, Hannibal?"

**"I made a pact with you. I will follow you, and kill for you."**

"I released you from that pact long ago."

**"I know. It doesn't matter. I will follow you, until the day one of us dies. Now. Do you have a plan for extraction. Do you have a plan to keep her safe?"**

Ramsus said nothing.

**"You stupid child. You would be lost without me, oath or no."**

"I know... I know... But first, before any of that nonsense, there's something I need to take care of."

**"And that would be?"**

Johann smiled.

"I am **hungry.**"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Sweet dreams!<strong>_


	33. Chapter 29: The Dream Machine part 1

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos Montreal and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

* * *

><p><strong>MASS EFFECT: HUMAN REVOLUTION<strong>

* * *

><p><em><strong>Chapter 29: Noveria, The Dream Machine - part 1<strong>_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Kasumi Goto / Sun-Mi Echo Alpha 6 is portrayed by Olivia Wilde**_

_**Jules Kai Leng is voiced by Michael Wincott**_

_**Red Raven is voiced by Kelly Hu**_

**_Ken __Ruger is protrayed by __Jackie Earle Haley_**

_**Aleph is voiced by Richard Madden**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>London Bridge is falling down,<br>Falling down, falling down.  
>London Bridge is falling down,<br>My fair lady**_

_**-Old English Nursery Rhyme, Pre-Collapse, origin unknown.**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>October 13th, 2183 - Planet Noveria - Dosadi Arcology - Level 01 - District B13<strong>_

_**[Axiom - La Tour Des Miracles]**_

On the ride to his destination, Jules did some tricks with his telescopic knife to alleviate his boredom. His new left hand, courtesy of Europa Genomics, had finally settled in... though the new pectoral still felt a little stiff. He looked himself in the rear view mirror. His black hair had been cut short three months ago, and he was just beginning to feel a bit shaggy. His five o' clock shadow on his chiseled jaw stood out against the shade of pale coffee he had inherited — shades of the Orient, with a mix of European and Mediterranean thrown in.

He looked at his eyes. Raven had always said she liked their grey paleness.

His driver parked the car near an apartment building, and Jules stepped out, breathing in the disgusting stink of this slum.

Jules, or Julien Kai Leng — Employee of _Manticore Tactical Solutions_ and Chief of Security of the Noveria division of Europa Genomics — hated coming down to this part of Dosadi's lower levels. The B13 residential sector, composed of a forest of cheaply constructed buildings made of plaster, steel and cement, stank of waste both human and synthetic. Humans and mutants alike hovered about their business, and their business usually involved drinking beer, roasting some merguez over a makeshift barbecue, listening to procedurally-generated hip hop, and scratching their balls. They liked to complain about how shitty their lives were, how the WTO had left them and their families to rot after Dosadi's construction was done with — never mind the social welfare checks they were getting in the mail. Lots of bitching, but no real action to better their lot. Laziness and poverty, that's what Jules saw in B13.

He much preferred the _Souq_. Yeah, its back-streets stank of piss, burnt hashish and dried semen, but at least there was some activity there, an energy to the place. Something about it reminded him of home, and he visited the place whenever he had the chance.

Maybe he and Raven would spend some time there, after this op was over.

Jules took a puff of his _Royal Hell Hound_ cigarette, and looked at the steel sky a kilometer and a half above his head. An entirely different world was up there: the food was better, the housing was better, the jobs paid better... but there was a price to pay: you had to get chipped, and that meant abandoning all hopes of a private life. The folks in B13 may complain about their lot, but at least they didn't have a VI watching their every move twenty-four seven.

It was technically supposed to be daytime, but because the lower levels of the arcology had no windows, the only way the inhabitants of B13 could tell they were supposed to be awake was by looking at their clocks on their walls. Levels 1 through 100 were dark, gloomy, filled with smog. The sources of illumination on the streets were lamps on the ground and huge orange floodlights on the ceilings, most of which no longer worked. Only the _Souq_ in the middle of the place had the brightness, the neon and OLED signs and activity that a city should have... A veritable lava flow of oranges and yellows, set off by bits of green and cyan lamps. The poorer denizens of Lower Dosadi were drawn to it like moths to a flame. The poorest had no choice but to live here in B13.

Jules breathed in the smoke one last time and threw the cigarette to the ground, crushing it between the asphalt and the programmable carbon of his boot. He had a job to do. He checked his Omni-Tool, its interface classically European: lots of solid, opaque white spaces with black lettering and orange lines and icons. His sister reported in. The steel sky belonged to her and her pets.

It was time to do this: Kasumi Goto would not escape him this time.

He opened an encrypted channel to his troops and spoke as he made his way up the apartment building. This place was ancient — or looked like it. None of the typical amenities you'd see _L__à__-haut. _No wireless, No Augmented Reality, not one secure electronic keypad. Just plaster walls, water pipes in the corners above and below, wooden doors, and analog mechanical locks. It was like taking a trip back in time.

_"Alright everyone, sync up your AR Interfaces." _Jules transmitted the relevant data: The pictures and mugshots of a pale human woman with a feathered mop of medium-length midnight black hair parted just off the middle. Her face was painted with smokey dark blue eyeliner that matched her blue eyes, and her upper lip was painted with a dark, wine-red lipstick, while the lower one was decorated with a square strip of the same stuff.

_"The pictures of the lovely woman appearing in front of your porn browsers belong to one Sun-Mi Echo Alpha Six — goes by the name Kasumi Goto. She's a clone that had the rotten luck of being told she was a real person. That being said, Europa Genomics wants to have a word with her about stealing their intellectual property, so it's either hand-to-hand takedowns, or concussion shots from here on in. No shocks, and no hitting her on the head. Everything else you're free to break and bruise, but the skull's gotta stay undamaged."_

That was not the whole of it, of course. 'Kasumi' belonged to a sub-culture of illegal electronic criminals called 'Soul Hackers'. They exploited the Arcadia system to get into the minds of the people Upstairs, infiltrating their dreams while they slept through their Chips. While most of them were in it for some voyeuristic fun (in fact, that was kind of the whole point of the system — sharing dreams), Kasumi had a talent for gleaning real information from her mark's tangled subconscious. Confidential information. Specifically, she had gleaned information on Peak 15, a Europa Genomics installation John had ordered a complete memory black-out on while Jules worked on the problem.

Scholar's dirty little secrets weren't really Leng's concern, but keeping them paid the bills.

_"That being said," _Leng continued,_ "don't think just because she's smaller than you gorillas that she's not dangerous: She's got martial arts training and is an master practitioner of Parkour. Should it come to a chase, you Hunters will go after her, and the Hoplites will try and box her in. She's got a full set of Apps, including Cloak, so keep your Visors down — and no, I do not give a shit if it gives you a headache. Got it? Good. Everyone, get to your Nav Markers."_

The SSC Elites Leng sub-contracted had quietly surrounded the building, covering all potential escape routes with Hoplites, Snipers, and Hunters. The residents were quietly encouraged by the Hoplites to stay in their homes and remain silent, while the Hunters and Snipers took position in adjacent buildings and on their roofs.

Kai Leng approached the door to apartment 905, in a fairly cozy hallway on the east side of the building. Three Hoplites were stacked up against the door. On the floors below, more Hoplites were prepared to intercept and cut off Kasumi should she come their way.

"Got a look inside?" Leng asked one of the stacked up Hoplites.

"She lined her door and apartment with lead paint, but the snipers have reported that she's still in there."

"What was she doing?"

"Trying to call someone."

"Did you breach her comms?"

"We tried. Phone's pre-paid. But by the sound of things she couldn't get anyone online."

"Damn. Well, get your batons and riot shields out, boys..."

The three SSC Hoplites, armored head to toe in thick, beveled plates of white ceramic, brought their faceplates down, covering their faces, and deployed loose sheets of patterned carbon from their left gauntlets. An electric charge coursed through the material, hardening it into a nearly impenetrable solid barrier. One of them readied a concussion grenade instead of a force tonfa, and was ready to initiate a textbook Breach, Flash and Clear.

Leng, eager to get some action, decided he'd be the one to do the breaching by kicking the door down. He examined his knife, a keepsake from his years in the French Foreign Legion. Not today, he thought. A chip extraction worked best when the target was still alive. Or, at least, made it way more entertaining. Instead, he deployed a telescoping baton.

"It's showtime..."

Then Leng heard quick footfalls approaching from beyond the door.

_**[Remember Me OST - The Fight]**_

Then, suddenly, Leng got a face full of wooden door and fell on his back.

_Hi, my name (for now) is Kasumi Goto, and I am not having the best day ever. I like acrobatics, thieving, and romance vids._

Kasumi had kicked the door down before he did, resulting in his current predicament. She climbed on top of the fallen door and kicked one of the SSC hoplites in the head, and another tried to bash her with his shield. She simply jumped up and used his shoulder as a boost to grab a water pipe on the ceiling. As she hung there, the third Hoplite tried to catch her in a bear hug, only to miss her as she kicked herself off the wall, spun, and landed right behind him, bypassing him completely before he could react. She had fled down the corridor while he was still marveling at how fast she was.

_"Attrapez-la!" _screamed Leng in his native French, ordering his contractors to catch the woman.

_The angry fella in the black coat is Jules Kai Leng. Hopefully his day will suck just as much as mine. He likes knives, violent video games, and his sister. We're just not compatible. Also, he is NOT a nice person._

Kasumi leapt up and body checked a Hunter aside with her superior momentum and, without breaking stride, wall ran past some crates a Hoplite had tried to use as a bottleneck. She made it to the stairs, only to hear the boots of more SSC employees making her way up. Her eyes scanned her immediate area, and she found a locked door with a small window on top. Too small for her pursuers, but just right for her. She fired a glass destabilizer dart at the window, made a wall-run towards it as it slowly cracked, grabbed a pipe on the ceiling, and swung feet first through the glass, shattering it. Hundreds of tiny little cubes of glass fell on her harmlessly as she landed on the other side.

Inside the small apartment was an old couple, and before they could stir themselves from their sleep Kasumi had already made it to their balcony and slid down its fence's bars into the one on the floor below. The SSC troops were just a second behind her, having kicked down the locked door. They cursed at her, unable to imitate her acrobatics to pursue her. The two old men were not exactly happy at the intrusion.

_And these fine gentlemen are the best the Standard Security Corporation has to offer. Yeah, I'm not impressed either. _

Leng, having been alerted that Kasumi had made her way to the lower floor, was already half-way down the steps when he caught sight of her and gave chase. Two other Hunters were right behind him, and they were catching up. Kasumi made a bee-line for an open window.

_Oh, look! A conveniently placed piece of rope! Kids leave these things around to sneak in and out of the building without their parents knowing. It's why I love this place, really._

The Manticore contractor leapt forward in an effort to tackle her, only to follow her out of the window as she grabbed a rope and he grabbed nothing but air. His fingers were just a millimeter away from scuffing her boots.

"Have a nice trip!" the thief taunted, and laughed.

He didn't even scream as he fell ten floors down into a ground car, causing its aluminum roof to cave in on itself and its windshield and windows to break into tiny little pieces.

_Yeah, that's not gonna stop him._

Leng growled, and rose, unable to feel the pain of his fractured bones due to his congenital analgesia. His Corvo Obsidian mk IV Light Power Suit's artificial polymer musculature had absorbed most of the damage, allowing him to walk away from the wreck seemingly unscathed. Kasumi, meanwhile, kicked a worried SSC Hunter perched over the windowsill right on the face, allowing her to swing around the building with the rope. She grabbed a ladder and made her way to the roof; There was no way she was going to the ground level: Leng was very fast and very unhappy with her right now.

"Raven?" Jules spoke into his Omni-Tool. "Move in."

As Kasumi arrived on the rooftops, four SSC Hunters burst through the door to the stairwell and spotted her immediately. She ran away, building enough momentum to leap off and land on the roof of a smaller adjacent building. They gave chase. One of them screwed up his landing, and broke his ankle.

_These guys in the lightweight hockey gear? They're the Hunters. They're trained by SSC to catch Tracers like me._

A Hunter that had been laying in wait in front of Kasumi got out of cover and leveled his Talon pistol at her. But he had underestimated how fast she was going, and she was already jumping to knee him in the face, knocking him down, but not into unconsciousness. She landed and rolled away gracefully, keeping her momentum intact. The Hunter's groans of pain became a distant memory behind her.

_Money NOT well spent._

Kasumi heard the warbled, digitally flanged screams of crows, coming from up above. Dozens of flying wings each four meters wide were coming her way, their red optics trained on her. Their entire frames were painted matte black, but their wingtips were painted a glossy blood red. One of them was carrying a woman dressed head to toe in a black and red dark power suit with its claws. A man's face with a lion's mane was painted in red on her smooth featureless faceplate and her left shoulder, with the words MANTICORE TACTICAL SOLUTIONS printed under it.

_The winged woman in the middle of that murder of crows? That's Red Raven. She's the one controlling these Panzerwerx SK-105 Glider drones. Also, not a nice person either._

On a roof a hundred meters away, Kaira Stirling lined up a shot with her Mattock Designated Marksman Rifle, drawing a bead on the fleeing woman clad in a dark, re-purposed Quarian environmental suit and a blue short sleeved leather jacket with white trim. She loaded in a concussion shot. Someone approached slowly behind her, without making a sound...

_The tanned, blonde guy over there in the black leather coat and the lemon button shirt with his hood up is... I have no idea who he is, but he's been stalking me for hours. I thought I lost the guy. Handsome fella. Or so I like to imagine... I wonder what he looks like under the mask and the ruby shades? Hm. I figure he's a plainclothes SSC employee._

His foot caused the tin roof to groan, and Kaira whirled around to face her stalker. He caught her weapon by the barrel, pulled it away from her grasp, and smacked Kaira's face with the rifle's stock, knocking her unconscious. The weapon's ID lock gave way immdiately under a digital onslaught, allowing him to line up a shot, and fire on a glider that was about to grab Kasumi with its claws. It screeched and flew away, its VI programmed to RTB for repairs ASAP.

_Or not._

As her benefactor shot a concussion round meant for her into one of her pursuers, Kasumi leapt onto another rooftop. The other Hunter screwed up his landing, leaving her with only one to chase her down. She heard gunfire, and since she wasn't being shot at, she figured her benefactor was taking care of the other snipers.

_Well, I just need to ditch this last Hunter and provided I can evade the crows I can — Oof!_

The Hunter managed to tackle Kasumi to the ground and attempted to keep her pinned to cuff her, but she kept struggling.

_Huh, what do you know, an SSC Hunter that's actually competent. Just my luck._

"Kasumi Goto, Vous êtes en état d'arrestation pour vol d'information privée, manipulation illégale de données electroniques, et pour résister — Ah!"

Kasumi activated her Digital Glove and loaded her Falcon App, covering her right arm in holographic armor plates. She elbowed her would-be captor in the stomach, then tried to uppercut him in the face. He dodged.

"I'm sorry," said Kasumi, taunting. "My French is kinda rusty. Care to repeat that?"

Not rising to her bait, the Hunter calmly attempted to strike her down with a force baton, only to be surprised as she grabbed his wrist and attempted to twist it to make him submit. Instead, he used the momentum provided by her twist to flip and kick her in the face. Her shield took it, but she was knocked back.

The SK-105 drones landed to participate in the fight. Their long, thin, digitigrade legs cracked the concrete as they landed, and their wings snapped into three long pieces, then unfolded into clawed arms.

The Hunter attacked, and the drones moved in to kick her into submission. With nowhere to run, Kasumi dropped to a fighting stance. Her Omni-Tool beeped — just ten percent of battery power left.

_Aw, this is gonna suck._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>'Jake Armitage' fled from a trio of SSC hunters, looking for his target. Try as they might, they simply couldn't catch up to him, so they started shooting at him. Jake fired back while running away, and hit one of them in the knee. An impressive shot, considering his situation.<p>

_"Hurry, Jake!"_ said Donna Morgan over the encrypted comm channel. _"Six Manticore drones have her surrounded. She's managed to take out one of the Crows but she won't last much longer!"_

_"Hey, 'Morgan'!" _he replied sarcastically as a bullet streaked past his head. _"How about using your authority and getting those SSC goons off our tails!?"_

_"I can't! Unless they're involved in some kind of unlawful activity or breach of protocol, I can't recall them without blowing my cover!"_

_"Some good you're turning out to be!"_

_"Just shut up and run! She's our only lead!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>SSC Corporal Damien Raffaelli's attempts at subduing the suspect weren't quite meeting his own standards for competence. Attempting a Sabotage to turn one of the drones to her side had failed, and Damien believed she would surrender right then and there. As it turned out, the woman had a kinetic booster app loaded in the Omni-Tool mounted on her right arm, and was more than ready to fight. She had even managed to punch one of the mechs in the knees, causing it to lose balance completely. She also had a kinetic barrier set for melee. It wasn't perfectly programmed, however, and a few of his baton strikes went through.<p>

Eventually, her Omni-Glove shorted out, and Damien saw his chance to finish this.

The suspect saw her chance, too. She ran right at him, jumped, and kneed him in the faceplate, shorting out the optical lasers that fed his eyes visual data from his optics. Damien fell on his back, effectively blind, and scrambled to remove his helmet, exposing his shaved head to the elements. Through his green eyes he saw Kasumi attempt to leap off to another lower rooftop. He willed himself to get up and pursue her — he would not fail his duty!

Suddenly, from high above, came the whistling of three green glass bolts. They pierced the thief's back, and they broke as she fell and rolled onto her back. She was down.

The 'Red Raven' landed nearby, and the SK-105 carrying her crouched, allowing her to step down and detach the plugs on her back that fastened her to the machine.. The integrated bolt-caster in her left arm folded back in, and Raffaelli wondered if he was dealing with a remote controlled gynoid, like most Manticore operators liked to control, or an actual cyborg.

"You have done a man's work, Corporal Raffaelli..." said the Raven in a digitally flanged voice. He reminded himself that she no doubt knew his name from his Chip profile. He hadn't gotten used to it yet, the way some women approached him with full knowledge of his likes and dislikes... "You... are a hunter most capable."

"You could have done something earlier."

She ignored him, and approached the thief. Her every step was punctuated by a mechanical pumping sound. Above, the flying drones flew in a circle, making that awful cawing noise.

"Ah. The Robber of Mist." She grabbed Kasumi by the throat, and brought her face close to hers. Raven's faceplate split in two, and revealed an oriental woman's face that, to Damien, seemed to be made of porcelain. Her lips were just too red, her skin was just too white, and her eyes were just too dark. She stared directly into the thief's deep blue eyes. "You have evaded us once. Whet our appetites. You should have simply given up then, and perhaps..."

Razor claws telescoped out of Raven's hand. "Perhaps I would have been too bored with you and let you live."

"Madame?" Damien did not like the sound of that at all. His hand hovered over his holster.

Raven continued to act as if he was not there. "Your eyes... Your eyes speak of sorrows borrowed, bought, and earned. The tears you shed will never be your own, and yet..."

She brought the sharp tip of her index finger just a millimeter away from Kasumi's iris. "...You ache with every single one. I think I shall keep your eyes as a testament to who you are, Robber. The rest, my brother will find some use for."

Kasumi's eye darted around, but she could not move. "You... you need me alive."

"All that we really need is the _container__,__" _she said, tapping Kasumi's forehead with a razor claw. A tiny stream of blood flowed out from the cut. Then, she moved the finger towards one of Kasumi's eyelids.

"This will hurt quite a bit."

Raven heard the click of a pistol. "Let her go and walk away," said the man behind her.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"She's been shot! Hurry!" <em>shouted Morgan over the comm channel.

Jake saw the rooftop where Kasumi had been cornered. The SK-105 drones still in glider mode were encircling the area. There was no time to go from roof to roof. He would have to jump to two other rooftops to reach her.

He didn't have that kind of time.

He leapt, and crossed the fifty meter gap between the two buildings.

The Hunters slowed down, awed by the sight. One of them summed up their feelings with: "Holy mother of..."

_"This is Lieutenant Donna Morgan,"_ said a woman's voice over the SSC wireless channel. She had a slight australian accent. _"Manticore has breached the terms of the contract. All units stand down and return to base. This op is over."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I said, let her go!" shouted Damien. He kept the Talon pistol aimed at the back of Raven's head. Machine or not, the buckshot would no doubt put an end to her.<p>

"...Are you so eager to die, Raffaelli? Aiming a weapon at me is to invite death."

"_Ta gueule!_ This is supposed to be a law enforcement op, and lethal force is not warranted here! Stand d—"

One of the drones kicked Damien away, and he was knocked against one of the building's power boxes. His entire body dented the metal, and he fell to the ground, and into unconsciousness.

Before Raven could claim her trophy, she felt something was wrong. Her pets were growing silent, one by one. Someone was making them quiet, deaf and blind, and that someone had just landed close to her, denting the metal roof as he landed. He was tall, Raven knew, and she caught a glimpse of his gold and green eyes as he ran towards her.

There was so much fury in them, she thought. Such cold fury.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>From up above, a machine in the shape of a beast watched as the thief was being carried off into a maintenance tunnel that led down below, by a man who had bested several Manticore mechs, along with their controller. The way he moved intrigued the machine, making it recall half-remembered lessons from what seemed so long ago.<p>

**"Interesting,"** it said, and vanished into thin air.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jules bust through the door that lead to the roof of the six story building. Raven's signal was silent, and so were her pets. He had thought she had been caught in a Snowblind field, or that the thief had somehow jacked into her comm systems. What he saw up there instead was the ruined bodies of SK-105 mechs, an unconscious SSC officer, and the fallen, broken form of his sister.<p>

He knelt by her side, and scanned her. She was hurt, bad. Her suit was warped, her prostheses had been broken into pieces, her torso was bruised, and her skull had a small fracture on the temple. He applied Medi-Gel immediately. She coughed.

"Who did this to you?" he asked, as he cradled her in his arms. "Tell me."

"...A Shadow." Red Raven muttered.

Leng looked up at the steel sky. The Crows still circled above. Though they had been digitally lobotomized, they still called out to their mistress.

Whoever this Donna Morgan was, she'd have to answer for this. Leng knew she technically wasn't responsible for her sister's injuries, but he didn't care.

Someone would scream for this.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kasumi awoke, and smelled leather.<p>

Her rescuer was carrying her on his back, and they were somewhere dark, that much she could tell. Were they underground? How deep? She hoped it wasn't level 9. Dear God, she didn't want to be on level 9.

"H-hey, I can walk, you know..."

"It's no bother." His voice was low and a bit rich. She kinda liked it. She would have liked it more if her side didn't hurt so much.

"Yeah..." she breathed out. "Well, as much as I enjoy... riding a fine gentleman, I gotta insist." Her brow felt sweaty.

"You're running a fever. I gave you some Panacea but you're still suffering from the symptoms of the toxins."

"Just... put me down."

"...As you wish."

Kasumi stood, and attempted to put some distance between her and her benefactor, only to stumble and nearly fall. The man caught her quickly.

"Let's have you sit down over there, alright?" he said.

She had been sat down, and she slumped against something, but her eyes still hadn't adjusted to the darkness. Was she in some kind of cabin? It stank of dust and piss.

"Hold on, I think I see a light switch there."

The man in the long coat opened a panel and touched it, and an electric shock passed between him and the hardware, much to his own surprise. Then, the subway train's interior lights came on, and she got a good look at her rescuer. He was tall, that much was certain, with a long black coat that gleamed green and ended just above his knees. His medium length sun-bleached hair was swept back, and his finely trimmed gold beard blended with the lightly tanned skin of his sharp face. There was a big scar on his forehead, above the left eyebrow.

He certainly looked cool, but Kasumi thought the round ruby shades were kind of goofy.

"I guess the thing still has a bit of juice in it..."

"Huh, we're... in the metro."

"That we are. It looks... like there was a battle here. There's detritus all over, the cement is crumbling, and the trains are riddled with bullet holes."

"...That's from the revolt," she gulped, then she realized that she didn't have the strength to give out exposition. She was still so weak... "Hey, what's your name?"

"Jake Armitage," the man replied.

Kasumi laughed. Oh, that was rich.

"Is... something funny?"

"Nice try, but I met the real Armitage, and you're not him. You're competent, for one thing, and you don't act like a puppy..." she coughed. "But seriously, what's your actual name?"

"...Call me Basch, then."

She looked at him again. "Yeah? Yeah... you look like a Basch... Name's Kasumi Goto. I'd shake your hand, but..." She hissed and winced. "Damn those glass bolts... went right through me."

"Can you still feel your legs?"

"Aw... are you asking me out to dance?"

"No, I mean, can you still feel like you can walk? Do you need me to carry you?"

"I think I need you to double-check the Medigel you applied."

Basch knelt beside her and checked the patch of gel. It had come loose, and she was still bleeding out.

"What in the hell?..." he muttered. "That's not right. The wounds should be clotting."

"I..." she coughed. "I need... I need Soap."

"I don't think rubbing soap on the wounds would help at this point."

"No you stupid... it's... it's medicine, okay? There should still be some... are we at a metro station?"

"Yeah."

"Good," she gulped. "Check the maintenance storage rooms, or the medicine cabinets... There should be—"

[Parasite Eve OST - Doom and Gloom]

Kasumi jumped at a noise. Something heavy had fallen on the ground somewhere, and the noise resonated in the darkness.

"What was that?" asked Basch.

"...Rats." Kasumi breathed, frightened.

"...Yeah, probably. I'll head out and find you some of that... Soap." Basch eyed the wound again: it seemed to be getting worse, not better. The woman shouldn't be moving at all. "You stay here," he insisted.

"N-no! Don't leave me alone with the rats!"

"They're just rats, I won't be too far, I promise..."

"No...! No! They're not just rats, they're..." She gulped, and winced, and a drop of sweat dripped from her forehead. "They're huge! And they... and they..."

"Oh, for crying out loud..." Armitage took out his black Carnifex and gave it to her. "Here, you can scare them away with this."

Kasumi was visibly relieved at having a weapon in her hand, and she began to calm down. "Oh... oh, thank you... Okay. I think I'll be okay."

"Hang tight. I'll be right back with your medicine."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Metro station Renaud Bray was, apparently, at once a terminus for a line headed from east to west and was the halfway point for a line that went from north to south. There were rails on two separate levels, and the passage Basch had taken had led him into the lower half of the place. It smelled of dust, and waste, and it was cold. Basch's breath hung in the air.<p>

Somewhere, water dripped out of a leaky pipe, and the sound the drops made hitting the concrete echoed through the place.

Basch's Omni-Tool's lamp illuminated the area: The architecture of the place was spartan, and made of concrete. The walls were cracked and covered in graffiti tarnished by dust. As he recalled, Dosadi had only existed for only 20 years, five years of which were dedicated to its construction. And yet this place was a ruin, and seemed to have been in disrepair for hundreds of years.

"I wonder what happened here..." he wondered out loud.

Over the wireless, 'Hank' answered the question. The man in a beige business suit appeared in Basch's Mixed Reality interface. _"A revolt happened, some people weren't happy with their pay, or their food, and decided to do something about it. Things got real violent all over the place."_

"Hey! How did you— oh forget it... Good to hear from you, Hank. How's the _Souq_?"

_"Smelly. And uh, sorry about the radio silence, but 'Kaylee' and I needed time to encrypt our signal so that __the SSC couldn't sniff it out. I heard from Morgan: You managed to get our little thief out of dodge?"_

"That I did... I made my way to the subways, but she's wounded, and the Medi-Gel isn't working. She says she needs something called Soap. Slang for some kind of medicine?"

The comm window switched from Hank to an Omar as he found the tariff station.

_"Ah, shit. She's a clone." _he said.

Basch was a bit confused. "Wait, what?"

_"Come on, you've been to Seoul."_

_Seoul. _That had been the place that convinced him to leave Earth for good.

"Yes, I was there, but I didn't exactly stick around long enough to—"

A noise echoed from down the hall. Basch shone a light from his Omni-Tool at where he thought it came from. There was nothing there, and yet he couldn't shake the awful feeling of being_ watched._

"...to write a codex entry on the place. Care to explain?" Basch looked inside an emergency medical cabinet in a security station. Empty.

_"Well, the gist of it is, after the Collapse the surviving middle-class in Seoul were in need of workers. They didn't have the materials for robots, but they had plenty of biotech equipment."_

"And they cloned themselves some slaves. Yeah, I got that much."

_"Of course, there wasn't that much food to go around either, and the rich kids really liked their vegetables, so they made it so that the only thing the clones could eat was a synthetic protein. It usually comes in powder form, and you have to mix it in water. It's called 'Soap' because the mixture is pretty frothy."_

"So wait, Kasumi can't eat anything else?" Basch said as he opened a drawer and found a couple of flares. He figured these might be useful, so he pocketed them.

_"Nah, current generations of clones can eat normal food just fine, though they don't need as much as normal humans. Still, the built-in necessity for Soap was kept... "_

"As a method of control," said Basch, bitterly. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.

_"Exactly. Doesn't matter how well they eat. Without the stuff, they eventually fall apart. It's not pretty."_

"And I'm guessing there were a lot of clones involved in Dosadi's construction, enough to warrant ample supplies of Soap?"

_"Mostly to do the risky labour, yeah. A lot of people, mostly the mutants, weren't happy with them. Said they were stealing their jobs. It's one of the reasons this place went to hell, I guess. There's still plenty of them around Upstairs, too. They work as maids and the like."_

"Think there's still some of that Soap around this station? By the look of things, the place got looted."

_"Probably. Scavengers wouldn't have much use for it."_

"But it's edible protein."

_"Sure, but it's also white powder in a box labeled 'Soap'. Think about it."_

"Right. Any ideas as to where there might be some?"

_"Well, you might try finding the Clone quarters."_

"And that would be where, exactly?"

_"Hold up," said Hank. "Jake? Sparky wants to talk to you."_

_The image of a young Quarian woman appeared. Her helmet lacked the white lamp on the mouth that was ubiquitous to Quarian suit designs, revealing her mouth. Her faceplate was a bit more transparent, and her cloth bands were a bright pink, with a white flowery patten dotted with blood red stamen. "Hey Ad—"_

"It's _Jake, _Kaylee._ Jake. _Morgan wants us to stick to aliases, remember?"

_"But... the signal is encrypted."_

"Yes, I know, but it won't do to mention our real names in public, so think of this as practice."

_"Fine."_ Kaylee wasn't too happy about following Morgan's directives, evidently.

"You were going to say something?"

_"Hm? Oh, right, which station are you in?"_

"Renaud Bray."

_"Okay... just let me pull a 3D model of the place and... hold on a moment... There, Dr — I mean, '893' tells me that there's a room thirty meters from the tariff station that should be the Clone quarters. I'm uploading the map data to you."_

"Thanks. I'll be headed there right now."

* * *

><p><em><strong>The interloper needs to die needs to die needs to die needs to die needs to die and his woman will be ours <strong>_

* * *

><p>Basch turned around. "What was that...?"<p>

_"What was what?"_ asked Kaylee.

"...I thought I heard something scurry, but... there's nothing on my radar."

_"Just a rat, probably."_

"I guess. Kasumi said there were some pretty big ones around here."

_"Did she?"_ asked 893. _"Interesting... I'll go ask the locals a few questions. Be right back."_

* * *

><p><em><strong>He smells so wrong he tempts us with his meat and yet he stinks of things that are not meat he must die and the womb will be ours<strong>_

* * *

><p>The octagonal room reminded Basch of a pod hotel, but the windows were transparent, and caked with sludge. Curiosity got the better of him, and he tried to open one. There was a hiss that broke the silence, and something wet hit the floor, and the scent of rotten meat assaulted Basch's nostrils. Then, he looked inside.<p>

"Oh, god..."

_"What is it?"_ asked Kaylee. _"Did you see something?"_

Inside the pod was a skeleton, still wet from the sludge of decomposition. Judging by its size, it must have been a heavy labour model.

There were scratch marks all over the inside of the pod.

"They left them trapped inside..."

_"...What?"_

"...Nothing, it's nothing." 'Kaylee' was better off not knowing.

Basch looked around, and found some kind of dispenser on the wall. Beside it was a shelf with a few plastic boxes with a Buddha's head printed on it, with the word SOAP written at the bottom in both Korean and English. He checked them one by one.

Empty... Empty... Empty... full.

"Jackpot. Now, all I need is some water and..."

Something hissed in the dark. Basch activated his smart vision. Nothing.

This place was starting to give him the creeps.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The light is flickering Soon she will give us children and then she will give us meat<strong>_

* * *

><p>Kasumi could hear something breathe beyond the light cast by the train cabin's internal lamps, and she hugged her Carnifex.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Jake?"<em> The Omar sounded a bit panicked._ "Someone just told me that — __**You are all alone."**_

893's image distorted, and stuttered.

"...Drebin? Are you alright?"

_**"You are not speaking to Drebin." **_The voice was synthetic and flanged, and yet seemed to belong to a growling beast.

"Who are you? How did you get this frequency?"

_**"I am right behind you... Mr. Jensen."**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>soon soon soon soon soon SOON<strong>_

* * *

><p>The train's lights started to flicker, and Kasumi could hear something hungry move in the dark It was getting harder and harder to breathe...<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen turned around, expecting someone behind him.<p>

There was no one.

_**"Soon, I will be above you, beside you. In the dark I can be a part of everything in your world."**_

"So you're the one that was stalking me." Jensen activated his Smart Vision and looked around, above and below. Nothing. How was that possible?

_**"Are you afraid? Does the silence upset you? Does the dark unhinge you? Fear is such a fascinating function of your hardware. Watching you react to events to come will prove to be... illuminating."**_

"What events? What are you talking about?!"

_**"Your friend is about to die."**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOW TAKE HER TAKE HER TAKE HER<br>**_

* * *

><p>Jensen could hear gunfire, and screaming, and he knew that Kasumi was in danger. He made it just out of the clone maintenance room before something pounced on him, clawing at his face with thick, bony nails. Instinctively, Jensen brought his arms up to protect his face, and during a pause in the onslaught he managed to get a good look at his attacker.<p>

Straddling him was a shape that was, in one moment, a mass of visual artifacts — tiny video windows showing static or garbled color blocks — in the shape of a person with long limbs. Then, the artifacts subsided to reveal a pale humanoid clothed in strips and rags. It was at least two meters tall, with long limbs corded with lean, powerful muscles. It had a face that was a misshapen fusion of a man's and a rodent's, and Adam realized exactly what Kasumi had meant by Rats.

The mutant bared its yellow teeth, its mouth dripping with saliva. It strangled Jensen, and tried to bash his skull against the ground, hoping to soften the bony shell to have better access to the delicious tissues inside of it. But the shell was not brittle, and eventually the prey fought back by seizing the Rat by the wrists, breaking the monster's hold on his throat. Then, Adam headbutted the creature, sending it scurrying back into the darkness. The cloak of visual glitches covered it, and it was gone.

Jensen sprang to his feet; there was no time to wonder what exactly that creature was, or where it came from. There was a woman in grave danger, and he had to hurry.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>I can't die here. <em>

That was what Kasumi thought over and over as she fired the Carnifex into the dark, the bright flash of light from the gun's blast briefly jamming the Stranglers' Thermal Masks, allowing her to follow through with a shot to the head. Her body, however, would not go along with this plan, and her shots tended to go off the mark, mostly because of the Carnifex's high recoil. Still, she had an advantage: with her back to the wall and the only way into the car a few meters away, the creatures were forced into a bottleneck. Hitting them was fairly easy: just aim in their general direction and shoot. Some got wounded, others died, but the rest were getting closer, and closer still. Kasumi could imagine them baring their teeth, eagerly waiting for the moment she would be theirs.

She told herself that she would shoot herself in the head before they got too close. She would not be theirs.

That's when they started bashing at the windows. Kasumi knew it was time, and she put the gun's barrel to her temple.

Then came the glow of an Omni-Tool's lantern, and the Stranglers squinted at the sudden, fast-approaching surge of light. Their thermal masks' optical camouflage fizzled, and they became fully visible again. Outside, their kin were screaming, and they realized that they would need more of their kind to take on this prey. They fled into the dark, even as Kasumi shot them in the back.

Once again, Kasumi had been saved.

"Basch?" she called out. "Basch, is that you?!"

A voice came from outside. "Yeah, it's me! I'm coming in with your medicine, now, so don't shoot, alright?"

Basch came in with his hands up, and in one of them was a box of Soap.

"Oh man, am I glad to see you..." Kasumi breathed out.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After a drink of water from Jensen's canteen mixed with this 'Soap', Kasumi's wounds responded to the Omni-Gel bandage a bit more favorably. She stopped bleeding, and she could walk again, but she still felt weak, as the Panacea hadn't quite isolated the poisonous glass shards completely.<p>

Jensen tried to find a way out of the station, but the passages leading to the surface had collapsed a long time ago. Digging a way out would have drained Jensen completely, and that was a situation he didn't want to be in, not when these... things were stalking them. With little choice in the matter, he decided that he and Kasumi would be making their way to the next station on the line, towards the center of town.

In the dark subway tunnel, halfway to the next station, Jensen finally asked:

"What the hell were those things back there? They looked alien, but..."

"Stranglers," answered Kasumi, "known locally as Rats."

"You tried to warn me about them... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left you alone in there."

"Aw, don't beat yourself up over it. I wasn't exactly clear, and it's not like I was in any shape to walk, anyways. Speaking of which, thanks for the Soap. That really hit the spot."

"Still, what was that camouflage they had? I couldn't detect them at all..."

"No idea. I figure it's some kind of flawed prototype, and the Rats were the test subjects. It's why they like the dark so much... Speaking of which, do you have anything brighter than that Omni-Tool lamp?"

"I've found a couple of chemical flares."

"Good. Keep those things on hand. Sooner or later the Rats' eyes will get used to the brightness and they'll start getting cocky. A flare will burn their eyes out. Hopefully. And that camouflage doesn't function in bright light."

"...Hence, why they like the dark."

"Pretty much."

Jensen wanted to say that he didn't see any more rats, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. Eventually, someone hailed him on his codec. He hoped it was Tali, or Moody, or Drebin, but he was not so lucky.

_**"You let the creatures that assaulted you and the woman... live."**_

_"How do you know that?" _Jensen subvocalized in response.

_**"I am watching you. I am appraising you... and I am puzzled by your mercy. They will awake again, sooner or later, and you will have to deal with them."**_

_"Maybe. But hopefully, we'll be long gone by then."_

_**"So it was deliberate? When put in danger, sapients are rarely capable of showing that kind of forethought... or restraint. What motivated you to hold back?"**_

Jensen gave the question some thought. The creatures that attacked them, they looked so... desperate, and scared, and furious all at once. _"...Pity, I suppose."_

_**"Pity? And if I were to tell you that the Stranglers have terrorized the populace of the Dosadi's lower levels for decades, would you still pity them? If I were to tell you that they have used men as food and women as breeding stock, would you still show them mercy?"**_

_"I don't have to answer your questions. Who are you? What do you want?"_

_**"The answers to those questions will come in time. Until then, I shall observe."**_

_"Hello? Hey!" _It was no use, the signal was cut. "Damn it."

"What?" said Kasumi.

"Nothing, just... just mumbling to myself."

They continued to walk in silence, until Kasumi noticed something on her left. It was some kind of white and yellow box mounted on the wall. She beamed.

"An RCA station! Score!"

"A what now?"

"It's an automatic healing station for clones, in case they got hurt maintaining this place. Let's see if it still works."

Kasumi hurried towards the device, and tried to activate it: The machine used the last of its power to open up and deploy a smooth black display before dying completely. Unwilling to give up on it, Kasumi cracked it open and tried to repair it. She called for Jensen's assistance, and when the cyborg touched the machine it sprang back to life, and then its lights dimmed as soon as he withdrew his hand in surprise.

"Huh. Do that again?" requested Kasumi. Jensen did so, and he kept his hand on the RCA device. It was as if he was powering it by touch.

"Looks like technology likes you, Basch." Kasumi commented. "Hold still while I get myself fixed."

She removed the Medi-Gel bandages, cleared her throat, and spoke into the machine. "This is Sun-Mi Echo Alpha Six, requesting diagnostic."

_"Scanning..."_ replied the machine as lights hovered about Kasumi's body. _"Foreign material detected beneath left lung. Initiating purge."_

Holographic readouts surrounded Kasumi, and her body seized. The fragments of the glass bolts were pushed out of her body by some unseen force.

_"Repairing trauma."_

The holes in her skin sealed up, and the bruise on her face vanished.

_"Warning, illegal modifications detected. Please report to your overseer for immediate termination. Have a nice day."_

"...Yep. I'll get right on that." Kasumi did a stretch, testing the repairs. "Whew! well, that hit the spot... still feel a bit dizzy, though."

Jensen withdrew his hand. His HUD reported that he had consumed 42.4 percent of his energy reserves — far, far too much for the activity of the day. He had apparently been powering the machine with his own body, somehow. Was this Hein's handiwork?

"Dizzy?" asked Jensen, a bit worried.

"Yeah, one of the SSC's hunters kicked me in the head. I'll be fine, I just need to get out of here and rest."

The mysterious voice rang in Jensen's ears again:

_**"The Stranglers are coming."**_

Behind them, Kasumi and Jensen could hear distant snarling and screeching getting closer and closer. Jensen cracked one of the flares, and threw it at the sound. The bright red light illuminated the shadows, and the creatures that hid within them recoiled in pain.

"Run!" shouted Jensen.

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

They ran and ran, but Kasumi was so much slower than Jensen, and he had to slow down to make sure she wouldn't be left behind. The Stranglers, however, were just a bit faster than she was, and their snarls were getting closer and closer.

Then, the snarling appeared in front of them.

Two Stranglers, intent on intercepting the fleeing pair, sprang from the rubble, and before Jensen could pull out the other flare, they were already leaping onto them. Jensen simply kicked his opponent away before he could land on top of him, while Kasumi merely shot at hers. Unfortunately, while Kasumi had a vast repertoire of skills, running _and_ shooting accurately at a leaping Strangler was not one of them. True to its monicker, the Strangler had her on the ground, with its bony hands at her throat.

A cold, vibrating blade from Jensen's forearm pierced its brain.

Jensen pulled the mutant's corpse away from Kasumi, and helped her up.

"How many times do I owe you, now?" she asked.

"Later! Keep running!"

The rubble in front of them became harder and harder to navigate quickly, and then it became downright impossible to do so. A cave-in barred their way. They were trapped, and Jensen readied himself for a last stand.

"Over here!" shouted Kasumi, pointing at a steel door with the words 'Sewer Access' printed on it in multiple languages. He ran towards it, and tried to open it. It was locked.

"Dammit!" she cursed. "I don't have enough power for my Pick App!"

Jensen kicked the steel door open.

Kasumi blinked. "...That works, too, I guess."

Once they were in, Jensen closed the door behind him and activated his Omni-Tool's Glue app and sealed the lock.

"Yeah, that won't hold forever," commented Kasumi.

"I know," replied Jensen.

The room they were in was little more than a pit with a ladder bolted on the cement walls, an access point to the sewers above. The Stanglers were already banging at the door.

"You go first." Adam insisted, and Kasumi started to climb as quickly as she could. Jensen followed her up.

The Stranglers were savaging the door even harder, and Jensen could hear their screams getting louder. Eventually, the door gave way, and the crazed mutants tried to climb the pit with their bare claws in vain. Only a few had the presence of mind to use the ladder.

"Hurry!" shouted Jensen as he kicked a climbing Strangler in the face. It fell below, its screeching fading into the dark.

Halfway up the pit, another Strangler caught up to Jensen, and gripped his ankle tightly. Jensen frantically tried to shake him off, but the Rat was quick, and climbed onto Jensen's back, intent on clawing at his arms to make him lose his grip. Two others joined in the struggle, but Jensen's grip held fast onto the ladder. One of the Stranglers bared its darkened, yellow teeth, and sank them into Adam's neck, breaking his outer skin.

And then, the Strangler's face exploded open as some kind of segmented blade pierced its skull, and it fell into the pit. The bladed tentacle then sliced one of the other Stranglers in half, causing it to loosen its grip on its prey, and then stabbed the last one in the heart, dragging it screaming into the dark.

And then all was quiet. Too quiet. Something had made the rest of the pursuing Stranglers quiet, and Adam wondered if the Stranglers were not chasing Kasumi, but actually fleeing from something far nastier than they were.

"Basch! Basch, are you okay?" called Kasumi from above.

"Yeah... Yeah, I'm okay." replied Adam, his voice trembling from the rush of adrenaline. "I think we've lost them."

He heard a low growl, and the sound of meat being torn, and Jensen hurried up the ladder. At that moment, he much preferred being in the sewers than in the old Metro.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: NEO SEOUL AND CLONE LABOUR<strong>_

_Shortly after the Collapse subsided, Seoul's upper class citizens, having survived a bitter nuclear winter by hiding in elaborate underground shelters, found themselves with no labour force with which to begin reconstruction of their civilization. To solve the problem, they put their expertise in biotechnology to use, and began to create fully-grown, genetically engineered clones capable of tirelessly working under the harsh climate of post-Collapse Korea. Neo Seoul rose from the ruins of the original Seoul within five years._

_Today, thanks to support from the WTO, Neo Seoul is an independent city-state, and has often been referred by the media as a 'beacon of capitalism'. Its various biotech firms provide the world (with the exception of the UNAS) with custom made clones, designed for a variety of tasks ranging from construction to companionship to the middle-class, and even part of an 'entourage' for the rich and famous. As such, many 'models' of clones exist. Advertised as being cheaper to maintain than mechs, clones require little food save for a cheap protein supplement, colloquially known as 'Soap'._

_Both the Council and the UNAS have raised concerns that clones are little more than slaves. President Hugo Jeong, of the Sosamshin corporation, had this to say on the matter in a summit held in the Citadel's Tower on September 18, 2170:_

_"Slavery, by definition, is a system in which **people **are treated as property to be bought and sold, and forced to work against their **will**. This definition... simply does not apply to our products. I can't speak for the clone design of my competitors, but Sosamshin clones never had, nor will they ever have, free will. As such, they are no more sentient than a VI operated mech, and much like a mech, you cannot call owning one slavery."_

_Since the summit, clone labour on Earth has enjoyed a vaguely legal status under Citadel Law, since Sosamshin has demonstrated the lack of sentience of their clones. The issue once again came under the scrutiny of the public eye in late 2175 when Adam Jensen became involved in an attempt to smuggle defective clones off-world. _

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: No, that last line was not a Metro 2033 reference — it's just what folks in Europe call the Subway.<strong>

**I was planning on more content for this chapter, but then my gaming habit caught up with me. 10k words is all you'll get this update. :(**

**You know, I don't say this enough, but I should express my appreciation to the folks at Space Battles. A lot of ideas that made it in this fic were first discussed there. Kalaong in particular pointed out that the Luna AI was called Hannibal, and that was too good a parallel to pass up.**

**Royal Hell Hounds is a brand of cigarettes used in Deus Ex: Human Revolution. I designed the logo, a wolf's head with a crown. You can see them on Jensen's desk, I think. Another logo I designed was for a brand of beer... I was kind of embarrassed to see that that one made it in, since it's not exactly my best work ever.**

**The SK in SK-105 stands for ****Sturm Krähe, which is German for Storm Crow. SK-105 also the real life designation of an Austrian tank.**

**RCA stands for Réparateur de Clone Automatique, or Automatic Clone Repairer.**

**Sosamshin is the name of a Korean household deity. She represents the birth of cattle.**

**Spellcheck by Vandenbz and Setokaiva  
><strong>


	34. Chapter 30 The Dream Machine part 2

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos Montreal and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**~[h+]~**_

MASS EFFECT: HUMAN REVOLUTION

_**~[h+]~**_

Chapter 30: Noveria, The Dream Machine - part 2

_**~[h+]~**_

Brenin "Bren" Tymestl is voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson

Mjrn Katzroy is voiced by Gina Torres

Jerin Katzroy is voiced by the same kid who voices Catbug

The infiltrator is voiced by D.C. Douglas

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Follow the Normandy's course, and stay in their wake." ordered Bau. "Report anything amiss to me as soon as possible.<em>

"Whatever you say, boss." said the dusky, dark-haired Fiera pilot as she set the Mistral's glossair drives to maximum.

For the last few days, that had been the only interaction that Mjrn Katzroy had with her new boss. She had been taken under his employ on Freeport S9, just as the blue women were about to put her in a cell for smuggling Prothean artifacts out of Asari space. Take the Salarian Spectre wherever he wants, and he'll see to it that the Asari can't touch her, that had been the deal she had struck from the comfort of a prison cell.

And then the Geth attacked the station, killing almost everyone on board.

Almost everyone. In the cabin behind her were the only survivors, herself included. There were two human soldiers, and two mercs: a scarred-up Krogan and a Roegadyn.

Playing with the two dinosaurs in the co-pilot's seat was her seven year-old son Jerin, re-enacting a sudden but inevitable betrayal. He made lots of cute little roaring noises, and that brought a smile to Mjrn's face, not to mention that it broke up the monotony of shadowing the Alliance frigate. She didn't think it was worth the time shadowing them: It was pretty obvious they were headed for the Pax system. In fact, they would be arriving within the reach of the sun's gravity well in a few minutes, and their FTL drive would lose its speed accordingly. There would be no hiding in their wake then.

"Sweetie?" she asked Jerin. "Could you go into the Galley and get Mister Bau — you know, the one with the big almond eyes? — to come here?"

"Can I stay there and play with Uncle Wrex?" Jerin asked, his big brown eyes pleading.

"Of course, honey, just... don't play with his toys, alright?"

As her little boy scampered away, Mjrn began to match the Normandy's speed. Soon, she would have to shut down all non-essentials to reduce the chance of being detected.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Mistral's Galley wasn't so much just a kitchen, it was also the ship's dining room and living room rolled into one. The corvette, after all, only had so much room for a few passengers, let alone a Krogan and a Roegadyn. Wrex was at the dinner table maintaining his new weapon — a Graal Spike Launcher that he got from some Omar gun runners.<p>

Brenin Tymestl, a Roegadyn mercenary Wrex had met up with in Freeport's bar, sat in a corner meditating, since he had little else to do and moving around in the Mistral's somewhat cramped corridors made him nervous. Vega and Jenkins were lounging on the Galley's couches, no doubt wondering how they'd murder Lawson for stranding them on Freeport. They believed that the AIA agent knew the Geth attack was coming, and Bau shared their opinion on the matter, hence the pursuit.

Once the boy passed along her mother's message and Bau left the Galley, the little runt had begun to pester Wrex to carry him on his back on a ride around the cargo hold.

"No."

"Aw, please?"

Wrex snapped the casing of his new Graal Spike Launcher in place. "Kid, I'm busy, and there's lots of sharp bits on the table. Go play with someone else."

"Aw, come on," the boy pleaded.

Wrex growled, but it did nothing to deter the child. Eventually, Bren had come to the rescue. Like most of his kind, he was much better with children then Wrex could ever hope to be. Seeing the giant toss the boy up over and over again while it giggled reminded the old Krogan mercenary of better days, before the Salarians had inflicted that terrible genetic curse on his race. Back then, Wrex himself had a harem of his own, and hundreds of bastards that would bear his blood.

He had no idea what happened to them. They probably were all dead. Not that it mattered: he hadn't been much of a father to any of them.

"Man, this ship is fancy," Wrex overheard Vega comment. The Krogan had to agree: the lines of the ship were elegant, and the hull of the ship looked like it was carved out of ivory, with silver inlays carved into it. Even the glass was decorated.

"Do all Fiera ships look like this?" Vega asked the Roegadyn.

"Pretty much," said Bren as he tossed the boy up. "Fiera don't do 'simple' when it comes to design. Their airships look like palatial castles of white stone festooned with cannons."

Jenkins whistled. "And do all their spaceships look like a cross between a white bird and a dragonfly?"

Bren let out a rumbling laugh. "Boy, their space corvettes look like just about everything you can imagine. I once flew in a Fiera ship that looked like a giant conch shell chariot being pulled by huge glossair wheels."

With his weapon maintained for the hundredth time and with his thoughts turning somber, Wrex decided to strike up a conversation with the humans. He put the weapon where the child couldn't reach it, and approached the duo.

"Vega," said Wrex.

"Wrex," said Vega.

"Sup?" said Jenkins.

"How's the hand, kid?" Wrex asked Jenkins.

"Still a little stiff," said the young soldier. "And the new eyes are doing just great, though — even better than my old ones. Everything's so sharp, now!"

"Judging by the way the ship just shifted, I'd say we're going to be catching up to the Normandy soon," said Wrex.

"What's Bau gonna do?" asked Jenkins.

"Probably ask Anderson why he ignored his distress call." Wrex shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm thinking it was Lawson's doing," said Jenkins, bitterly.

"Or maybe Anderson understood that trying to save Freeport was a lost cause," disagreed Wrex. "There were just too many Geth warships out there."

Vega shook his head. "It's both: once an Alliance ship is on an AIA operation, they go dark. Doesn't matter how loud Bau's signal was — Anderson couldn't answer, and if he did, Lawson would have probably killed him."

"Bet you two will have a few choice words for Lawson when you find him," said Wrex.

"No kidding," answered Vega. "I'd also like to have a word with those creepy twins that were with him."

AIA agent Bryce Lawson had been responsible for having both Jenkins and Vega transferred to Freeport's Alliance enclave, dooming them both to a tour of duty as security guards on a backwater. This was, apparently, because Lawson's two partners were in need of sleep pods, and after Vega and Jenkins had made their scorn for the agent clear for unceremoniously shooting their Batarian prisoner in the chest, they had pretty much volunteered their pods. All it took was a few keystrokes on his Omni-Tool, and Lawson smiled smugly, and that was that.

Wrex and Bau had borne witness to these events, and both of them agreed that Lawson seemed to be in a hurry. He tried to hide his haste behind a veneer of smugness, but it was clear that Lawson was afraid of something. That something might have been the impending Geth attack, but Wrex thought it might have been those two creeps that were looming over him. They were pale, and blonde, and dressed strangely in burgundy and silver outfits. Wrex had heard their names: Elizabeth and Theodore.

They gave Wrex the creeps. There was something wrong about their pale amber eyes...

"Hey, Wrex?" asked Jenkins. "Do you know anything about the 'Shadow of Elysium'?"

The Krogan's brow furrowed. "Huh? What brought that on?"

"The Batarian cursed Lawson with his last breath," explained Jenkins. "He said: _May the Shadow of Elysium fall upon you, and all that carry your blood!_"

"Hm..." Wrex scratched his chin. "I might have heard a thing or two from some Skyllian Blitz veterans."

"As did I," said Bren, as the lumbering, pale green giant approached the trio of fighters. The Fiera boy had started to feel a bit sick, and returned to his mother's side. "And if even half of what I heard is true, then this Lawson fellow is not long for this world."

"What have you heard?" asked Jenkins.

Bren scratched his black beard. "Well, it's hard to separate the tall tales from the truth, but near as I can tell, the Shadow was an invisible man that killed many a pirate lord in their sleep with a knife, and shot many a slaver with a bow and arrow from the shadows."

"I heard it was a crossbow," added Wrex.

"Same difference," Bren shrugged, "Some Batarians say the Shadow was a pile of animated black rags given life by the vengeful ghosts of the Black Gas victims. Some Turians say he's a dead man possessed by the spirits of Elysium, now corrupted by death on a massive scale, and that they can be seen glowing out of his burning emerald eyes. All of them agree: he was as strong as a bloody titan and as fast as a leaf in a storm."

"Well, regardless of what he looks like, he's definitely dangerous." Wrex nodded. "Every pirate that survived Elysium attribute the deaths of Tavion and Haliat to the Shadow, along with the Butcher and... You remember Aleena?"

Bren nodded. "Aye, I remember." Twenty years ago, Wrex and Bren had worked together on a few jobs, and Wrex had told him quite a few tales whenever things were quiet. One of them was about how he and an Asari mercenary friend of his had fought one on one throughout a space station. It was pretty much a draw, but the collateral damage had been impressive. In the end, she got away, and Wrex managed to turn that situation around to gain some long term employ.

"Well, the Shadow killed her."

Bren winced. "Oh, blast. You must hate the man a great deal."

Wrex snorted. "Heh, not really. You, me and Aleena? We're mercs, and we're cursed with a long life. 'Dying of old age' just isn't in the cards for any of us. Sooner or later, we're going to be too slow, or too careless, or just plain unlucky, and that will be it. Of course, Aleena's _sister_ probably probably didn't see it that way. Can't imagine Aria took the news well."

The four men went on to share a few stories of battle. Jenkins only had two, and the scars of both Eden Prime and Caleston still stung far too much for him to share, but he was nonetheless engrossed in Wrex and Bren's tales. Wrex's, because they were pretty awesome, and Bren's were well told. According to the giant, every member of his clan were fine storytellers.

An hour later, Jondum Bau came in. "We need to talk."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The four Freeport survivors were gathered at the dining table, while Bau explained the situation at its head. The Normandy had approached Noveria in stealth mode, and had launched a shuttle the Mistral's sensors couldn't pick up. It was quite visible, however, and the corvette's camera detected it just fine. Bau displayed a hologram of the craft in question, and Vega recognized its curves immediately.<p>

"Yeah, that's a Heavy Kodiak, and from that engine trail it's got cold gas thrusters. If you couldn't pick it up on sensors, then I guess the AIA modified it with the same stealth technology that the Normandy's got."

"Interesting," commented Bau. "According to Mrs. Katzroy, the ship was headed for this." Bau's Omni-tool displayed a holographic representation of the Dosadi Arcology, a tetrahedron approximately eight kilometers tall. "The Dosadi Arcology, and I intend to pursue Lawson in there."

"Is that smart?" asked Wrex. "Lawson does not look like one you wanna tangle with, what with that squad of Blacklight troopers that he loaded on the Normandy. And the twins that came with him gave me the creeps."

"Alliance Intelligence is up to something, and I intend to find out what it is, regardless of the danger... which brings me to another issue. Mr. Vega, Mr. Jenkins... I intend to act against a member of organization that ostensibly protects human interests, but did nothing to prevent the deaths of the two thousand humans that lived on Freeport. I intend to interrogate him and ascertain his motivations in doing so. I request your assistance in this matter. If you refuse, I will simply let you go at Port Hanshan, and you will be free to contact the Alliance military and your families and let them you that you are alive."

Vega crossed his arms, and leaned back against his chair. "In other words, you're asking us to commit treason."

Bau was not unprepared for that accusation. "The legal definition of treason is the act of a citizen that aids in a foreign government's attempts to overthrow, make war against, or seriously injure his parent nation. I am not doing this for the sake of the Salarian Union, the AIA is not a sovereign nation, and you owe no real allegiance to the Agency. As for the Alliance as a whole, I think it would appreciate that its members would be on the lookout for corruption, and do something about it."

Of course, neither Vega nor Jenkins were aware that foot soldiers like them were in fact prohibited from doing just that, hidden in partially comprehensible legalese.

Vega asked for some time for he and Jenkins to mull it over, and the Spectre dismissed them both. That left the two mercenaries to deal with.

Wrex cut to the chase.

"Five million credits, half up front, and the rest upon Lawson's capture."

"Likewise," said Bren, simply.

"Done," answered Bau as he produced two credit chits with the funds pre-loaded. Both Bren and Wrex pocketed the funds happily, though something puzzled Bren a bit.

"I don't see why you need us on this job: affairs of cloak and dagger are not our specialty."

"Though I would appreciate some expertise on covert operation, I am far more interested in your facility with killing."

"Aren't you a little worried that someone might pay us off?" said Wrex, bluntly. "Like the AIA?"

"...The thought has crossed my mind, but I'm not worried. For one thing, I've noticed that the AIA has little use for non-human assets. And whatever they can pay you, I can pay just as well." Bau smiled. "I had the good sense to invest in some Terran Nuyen five years ago, and its value has doubled since then. And if I can't beat it, well, I suppose I'll have to kill you both."

Wrex snorted. "I think I like you, Salarian."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[Mass Effect OST - Noveria]<em>

Once, Port Hanshan was a small city of half a million people. Then, around 20 years ago, a corrupt Noveria Development Corporation employee made the terrible mistake of trying to sell Europa Genomics secrets to the black market, starting a chain of events that would cause the company to crumble under the strain of a multitude of simultaneous lawsuits. No one had thought that the human corporation's lawyers would have the knowledge necessary to even bring these lawsuits to court, but they did, and they had managed to dance around the NDC's own army of Salarian lawyers. Within months, NDC folded, and all of its assets were put on sale.

Europa Genomics bought it all for a fraction of the value.

Since then, Port Hanshan had been the hub for the WTO's efforts to build its first extrasolar Arcology, with materials and hardware being flown in from everywhere in the galaxy. Hanshan's residential sector grew three-fold, forming a ten kilometer wide triangle and served as the first level of the Dosadi Arcology. Then another, smaller level was built, then another, and another, and once the mega-structure was finished, all that remained of Port Hanshan was, appropriately enough, its spaceport, integrated into the walls of Dosadi like a barnacle on the hull of a sea vessel.

As the Fiera spaceship came in to dock, like a bird seeking shelter from the snow, SSC Security Chief Maeko Matsuo had a dozen men secure the hangar bay. Protocol was to be followed: unscheduled arrivals were to be locked down and thoroughly inspected, and its occupants were to be detained and interviewed.

As the docking clamps locked on to the vessel, Matsuo couldn't help but admire the craft: its entire curved, smooth hull seemed to have been carved out of some kind of ivory, and each moving part was made of silver, matching the inlays that decorated the entire ship. It was around forty meters long, with slightly more than half of that length being host to a long, blue glowing crystal in the shape of a sword pointing backwards. Some of its armor fins had flowers painted on them, and mounted on the wings were 'glossair' rings, pieces of Fiera technology that neither humans nor salarians could figure out. Near as anyone could tell, glossair drive systems used dark energy instead of propellant to generate thrust. The effect, a faint flow of blue mist and embers, was beautiful to behold.

Once the vessel was properly moored, its cargo hold opened, and its passengers came out. First to come out was a Salarian in a black armor striped with gold, flanked by a Fiera wearing a green flight jacket with a yellow cloth spaulder with the Valyria Trading Company coat of arms emblazoned on it. Matsuo noted her two pistols — Altair M61s — holstered to each thigh. Behind them was a Krogan in heavy Mercenary armor, colored blood red. He had an axe slung over his back along with some kind of Krogan rivet gun. Besides him were two humans clad in basic Onyx medium armor, wielding unmodified Lancers, and behind them...

"What the hell is that?" said the Turian woman flanking Matsuo. Stomping out of the Fiera ship was a giant, almost two heads taller than the Krogan and easily twice as muscular. He wore a heavy armor painted gunmetal and striped with white. Slung over his shoulder was a Vulcan 20mm Rotary Cannon, with a belt of gunpowder-based ammunition connecting the impressive weapon with a drum mounted on the small of the giant's back. Matsuo also noticed a smaller transparent drum mounted on the weapon: it was full of mini-grenades, meant to be shot out of a gauss tube installed in the middle of the six gun barrels. The giant's helmet was open, revealing a friendly looking bearded face, almost human save for the pools of darkness that served as its eyes.

"That's a Roegadyn," said Matsuo. "As long as you don't point a weapon directly at him he'll be perfectly civil. Just follow my lead, and don't fire unless fired upon."

"Ma'am, with that kind of firepower, I don't think letting him get the first shot is a good idea."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I can't believe you dragged me into this," Vega said to Jenkins as they made their way down the Mistral's ramp.<p>

"It's what Shepard would have done, Sarge," replied the young Marine.

"Shepard was a celebrity with several awesome victories under her belt and a charisma that the cameras just loved. She would have gotten away with it. WE are a pair of nameless grunts. If we bring in this Lawson guy in shackles they'll probably toss _us_ in a cell instead of him."

"Not if he's in league with Saren!"

"IF he's in league with Saren," said Vega, more than a bit doubtful.

In front of them, Bau and Katzroy were discussing business.

"Here's two million credits." said the Spectre as he handed his chit to the pilot. "Feel free to purchase as much cargo as you want. Fuel, supplies, trading commodities, and so on."

The Fiera took the chit, a little happy that working for a Spectre wasn't going to bleed her dry. "Ah, it'll be good to have some cargo for a change."

"In lieu of contraband?" the Salarian quipped, eyebrow raised.

"Har. Har." answered the Fiera, her eyes rolling. "Fuel and supplies, I can get right now. Commodities... Well, where are you planning on going next after Noveria?"

"I suspect I'll have to report to the Citadel in about five days."

"Hm... Well, there's been an increasing demand for Sockeye Salmon on the Citadel, and Noveria's got a growing fishing industry set up in the equatorial seas. I think we could make quite a bit of coin provided you used your authority to hurry the cargo through C-Sec customs."

Mjrn's long ears perked up at the sound of approaching footfalls, and off the corner of her heavily-lashed eye she made out the forms of three SSC guards in medium armor — dark green underlay, with white plating. "Of course, all talk of commerce is moot if my ship gets sent to the pound."

Bau nodded. "I'll handle them."

Flanked by the two mercenaries and backed up by two Alliance soldiers and a Fiera smuggler, the Spectre approached the three SSC guards, making note of twelve other armed soldiers that barred all the exits out of the dock. Three snipers had set themselves up on the upper walkways, hiding behind crates.

"That's far enough," commanded the human woman leading the trio of SSC guards.

"Is something wrong, officer?" asked Bau, playing innocent.

"This is an unscheduled arrival, I need your credentials."

"Jondum Bau, Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

"Security Chief Matsuo." The woman took a polite, if brief bow. "We will need time to confirm that. Until then, your ship will remain under lock-down while you and your crew will be detained in a temporary holding cell. Do you have WTO Arms licenses?

Bau turned to his companions. All of them shook their heads. "No." he replied on their behalf. "However—"

Matsuo didn't let him finish. "I see. Corporal Cognomen?"

"Ma'am?" replied the Turian woman.

"Secure their weapons," commanded Matsuo.

"Unacceptable." Bau drew his pistol, and both Wrex and Bren aimed their weapons at the guards in front of them, while Vega and Jenkins aimed their Lancers at the snipers. Bren's rotary gun spun, as every SSC weapon in the landing bay was aimed at him. Bren fought the instinct to kill every single last rent-a-cop in the place. All it would take was one sweep, and the rest of the group could mop up the rest.

"I'd like to see you _try_," taunted Wrex, who simply drew out his axe, and covered himself in an blue aura of dark energy.

"Err, everyone?" soothed Mjrn, her hands up in the air. "Let's not do something we'll all regret...?"

"You should listen to the Fiera," said Matsuo, her voice like steel. "Do you have any idea how many SSC contractors there are on Dosadi?"

"Twelve?" guessed Bren, loudly and jokingly. "No, wait! Thirteen!"

"Nice one, kiddo." Wrex chuckled.

Bren smiled. "Thank you, it takes great effort to be properly irreverent in a stand-off situation, wouldn't you agree?"

Bau noticed the door far behind Matsuo open, and out came a tall, shapely woman in a SSC officer's uniform which was all white, with black stripes on the arms and chest, and with glowing orange chevrons on the shoulders. She wore a red beret on top of her head, and her brown hair was tied into a single, subtle side twist braid. She approached Matsuo quietly, not immediately announcing her presence. Her footfalls, Bau realized, were deathly quiet, though she was making no real effort to be silent.

Matsuo ignored the two aliens. "There are ten thousand SSC employees in this city, and your faces will be known to all of them if you open fire. The docking clamps will overload your ship's systems and you will be stranded. Even if you kill every one here, you will NOT leave Dosadi."

Bau tried to reason with the SSC security chief. "Special Tactics and Reconnaissance had an agreement—"

"—With the NDC, not the WTO. If you want to carry these weapons you will have to go through proper procedure."

At this, Bau could not help but remember what Hein had said on Caleston:

_"I'm sure you and the Council have forgotten this important fact after they realized that everyone likes to bend over to their slightest whims, but... You have no actual, official, legal authority over __**anything**__, mister Bau.__"_

Only now did he realize the truth of that statement. Here, in Dosadi, Bau had no real power. Moreover, his belief that all local authorities would bend a knee to him had made him lazy: He was better than this. He shouldn't have been caught in this situation. He should have landed elsewhere, found another, more discreet way into the arcology.

Being disarmed and detained was not an option. If Lawson had any influence here, then Bau and his crew would be dead within hours. Leaving was not an option either: whatever Lawson wanted here, it couldn't be good, and Bau felt that thwarting him was important.

"I can't let you take our weapons. Bring me the paperwork, and I'll—"

"—unacceptable. I cannot allow you to keep Class IV weaponry while we conduct a search of your ship. You have until the count of three to lay down your weapons. One."

The brown-haired woman activated her Omni-Tool.

"Two."

Before she could get to three, the SSC guards' weapons holographic interfaces blinked red. The words LOCKDOWN streamed over their iron sights. Cognomen tried to fire her Argus assault rifle at the Salarian, only for a harsh beep to come out of the weapon.

"Ahem. Let me guess: this has never happened to you before?" taunted Wrex.

"Nice one, old man." laughed Bren.

Matsuo was about to deploy her tonfa and order her men to engage in melee when the brown-haired woman put her hand on her shoulder and said something in a Terran language Bau didn't quite understand. Judging by Matsuo's own fluency with it, as she vehemently argued with the woman, it was no doubt her native language. Eventually, Matsuo relented, and ordered her men to leave.

As the soldiers made their way out of the landing bay, the woman in the red beret approached Bau, and introduced herself.

"Lieutenant Donna Morgan. On behalf of the SSC, I would like to apologize for your ill-treatment. Women like Matsuo are... not known for their flexibility. Welcome to Noveria, Mister Bau."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Matsuo was not happy. Donna Morgan had only arrived days ago to take over as Executive officer, and already she had proven to be just as corrupt and opportunistic as the last one. Why the director allowed her such free reign was a bit of a mystery to the security chief, but she strongly suspected it had to do with sexual favors. The Australian woman just looked like the type to sleep her way to the top.<p>

Still, she had a job to do. Her orders were to process yet another unscheduled arrival. This time it was a long range CTE 750AE shuttle (a cheap civilian craft often used by up and coming space merchants) delivering empty Bio-hazard canisters fresh from the factory. The pilot, a human named Kaleb R. Wester, was a fairly tall man with dark hair, a somewhat round face, and a goatee. He had proven himself to be unarmed, uninterested in carrying a weapon in the city, and more than willing to cooperate with the search. He filled out the paperwork with haste and precision. Besides a slight glitch with her Omni-Tool when she scanned him, everything checked out. Eventually, he was let go, and he was allowed to deliver his cargo, such as it was. Matsuo helpfully gave him directions to the Commodities market in Port Hanshan, to help him sell his meager goods.

"Do you need any help carrying these, Mr. Wester?" asked Matsuo.

"I do not require anyone else," the man replied. "I have... a hover cart. It will suffice." Kaleb smiled at her — a strange, almost comical wedge filled with perfectly even teeth. Matsuo was a little put off by the man's even tone and his strange facial expression, but she had dealt with high-functioning autistic people before.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Once the security chief had let the infiltration platform go, its processes sent a signal to Wreav Lord's vessel, hidden in the outskirts of the system.<p>

_"Excellent, my little plastic puppet,"_ answered the Krogan warlord over the comms. _"Find the location of the bearer of the Shibboleth. Work quickly, for I long to kill something."_

_"By your command."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside the conference room in the Port Hanshan SSC facility. The mercenaries and the marines stood there, waiting for Bau and Lieutenant Morgan to finish conducting their business. Mjrn sat nearby, her son sitting on her knees, begging her to let him go out and play in the snow. She had gently told him no, but that didn't stop him to start sulking. Then, to pass the time, Jerin started humming a tune, from a nursery rhyme that sounded vaguely familiar to Vega, but he just couldn't put his finger on the title.<p>

_Something from England, maybe?_ he though. _Bah, can't be._

Bren was trying not to be too bothered by the strange looks passers-by were giving a mercenary armed and armored through the teeth, while Wrex snarled at a bureaucrat that had the nerve to ask him if he had a license for that rocket axe.

Vega, meanwhile, was observing this Morgan woman quite intently through the glass separating the conference room from the hall. She was leaning casually against the edge of the conference table while she spoke to Bau, but there had been a moment when she had glanced appraisingly at Vega and smiled, apparently liking what she saw. But it wasn't a typical, flirtatious look. It was the kind of look that said, _"Yeah, I want it, but are you the one that's going to give it to me?"_

Vega smiled. Maybe betraying the Alliance wouldn't be so bad. "Mmh. Mmh. MMH! Now that is my kind of woman. Tall, commanding, and fills out a uniform. Plus, you gotta love someone who can work out like that AND keep a womanly figure."

"I dunno, Sarge," replied Jenkins, doubtfully. "She doesn't look like the kind of girl that works out. I'm thinking gene mod package."

"Bullshit. Look at those thighs. You gotta work hard to get those kinds of thighs."

"I know, but you also gotta burn a boatload full of calories to get those, and well..." he tapped his chest. "Her boobs are like, nearly half the size of my head, Sarge."

"I don't get why you two are getting so worked up," said Bren." She's way too short."

Vega and Jenkins simultaneously threw the Giant a look of complete and utter confusion.

"Dude! She's like, six feet tall!" said Jenkins.

"Exactly!" said Bren, smiling. "Two whole feet shorter than a proper woman should be! I don't care how curvaceous alien women are. The women of Amaethon will always be the tallest, the strongest..." he leaned in conspiratorially, and gently elbowed Jenkins with a wink. "...and the BUSTIEST in the galaxy."

Jenkins tried to picture himself with a Roegadyn woman, and he really hoped that they looked like human women. "I... I dunno if I could date an eight foot tall giant."

"Me neither," agreed Vega. It would be like going out with a mountain."

"Ah, but they're well worth the climb, my friend. Well worth the climb!" and then Bren let out a bellowing laugh, and patted Vega and Jenkins on their shoulders.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the conference room, Bau could see that his group were amusing themselves. He wondered what they were talking about, but the glass was soundproof.<p>

"Pleasantries aside," he continued. "I am curious to know why my ship's landing warranted your attention."

"Well," said Morgan, "first of all, the Mistral isn't your ship." She conjured up a file on her Omni-Tool. "It belongs to the woman outside, Mjrn Katzroy, and it just so happens that both her and the ship was flagged by the entirety of Thessia for smuggling Prothean artifacts. Consequently, her ship's profile activated several red flags in the SSC's database, and I was alerted immediately. I double-checked her file at C-Sec Interstellar, and found that it was recently altered. She had been moved down from the Citadel Space's Most Wanted list and her smuggling charges had been suspended until further notice. There are exactly two types of people with the power to do that: Citadel Councilors, and Spectres. And Spectres deserve my full attention."

"Interesting. I did not know the SSC could make extranet queries so quickly."

"The SSC has priority access to Noveria's Ansible, of course."

"Of course. So, why have you brought me here?"

"To give you these." Morgan produced six digital papers, day passes allowing free rein to throughout levels one through forty for fifty-two hours. Levels forty-one through one hundred and seven required an upgraded pass, and the top of the pyramid — level 108 — was restricted to the privileged few and their servants.

Bau examined his pass. "These do not allow me to carry firearms... or even body armor. Am I to enter Dosadi naked?"

"If you take those? Pretty much. However..." she then produced an injection gun and six silvery electronic micro-chips stored in clear, plastic containers. "These will grant you both a level IV firearms license and access to levels one through one hundred and seven for however long you wish to stay. You'll be granted other benefits such as premium access to Dosadi's many stores and commodities markets, as well as the local OZ service."

"Are you... trying to sell me these?"

"In a sense. I am willing to give you these on one condition. That you answer a question: What are you doing here?"

"I am afraid that's classified."

"Is that so? Well, I suppose I have little right to pry in a Spectres' business."

"You have no right at all."

"However, whatever it is you're up to, you'll find yourself hard-pressed to operate freely in a WTO Arcology without a full passport. Even if you were to ply your... trade and find a way into the levels above 40, you'll find Dosadi's upper levels to be full of cameras, sensors, patrolling drones, Manticore Mechs, and bureaucrats... and none of these things respond kindly to a fully armed alien with no ID."

Bau wasn't in the habit of divulging his objectives to everyone that asked. There had to be another way to get these passports. "Could I not simply apply for these through proper channels?"

"You could, if you're willing to wait several weeks for the paperwork to go through."

No, Bau was not willing to wait that long. Lawson would no doubt be long gone from Dosadi by then. "And why are _you_ so interested in my comings and goings? These chips are tantamount to slapping a tracking beacon on my back."

"Because Spectres are trouble. Wherever you go, chaos follows. I am trying to mitigate the inevitable damage by helping you, but my help comes at a cost: knowing what you're doing, when you're planning on doing it."

"Of course, nothing stops me from lying. Your VK devices don't work properly on Salarians." Anyone else would have called out Bau for being foolish enough for saying that, but Bau knew the best way to get people to trust him is to tell them how untrustworthy he was.

Morgan, to Bau's surprise, didn't quite fall for it. That was interesting. "Well, of course you could lie, and I wouldn't know any better," said the woman, "but I would operate on false information, and become quite the hazard to your little operation. Tell me the truth, and I can become a benefit to it."

Bau took a deep breath. It was true that he had never operated in a WTO Arcology before, and he was quite certainly in need of aid.

"I am trying to help you, Mister Bau."

"Is that so?" Bau asked doubtfully.

"Getting in the way of a Spectre is bad for business... Assisting one, however, will look very good on my resume."

After a moment of silence, Bau conjured up a few images on his Omni-Tool. The first was a 2D hologram of a dark haired human.

"This is AIA agent Bryce Lawson. I suspect he had a hand in the destruction of Freeport S9 by the Geth."

"Freeport S9... was destroyed?" asked Morgan. Bau's observant eye noted that she wasn't all that surprised. That was also interesting.

"I'm not surprised you don't know about it yet. News does not travel all that fast throughout the Ansible network. Still, I'd like to get my hands on him before he vanishes inside the bowels of the Arcology."

"That... makes little sense." continued Morgan, doubtfully. "An AIA agent letting Freeport S9 be destroyed, I mean. The station had a significant and growing Alliance presence on it, if I recall."

"That it did, and you would think an agent tasked with the defense of the most prolific human organization in the galaxy would do something to prevent that disaster... but instead he used his influence to rush the Alliance vessel he commandeered through its take-off procedure, after he killed a Batarian prisoner due to be transferred to S9 to prevent its captain from being tied down by paperwork. The Mistral and my group are, as far as I know, the only survivors from the attack."

Bau took a breath, and continued: "If he was willing to let a station partially operated by the Alliance be destroyed by the Geth, then imagine a human settlement like Dosadi completely independent from it. For all I know he has already given the Geth enough information to launch an invasion of Noveria." Of course, Bau had little evidence of this, but motivating the SSC to help him could only be a good thing.

Morgan crossed her arms, and looked down. "I believe you."

_Of course you do, _thought Bau. He conjured another image, this time of the Heavy Stealth Kodiak that Lawson used for transport.

"He landed on Noveria with this craft. Has it come through Port Hanshan?"

"No. If it did, then I would have known."

"Are there any other landing pads on Dosadi?"

"There are."

"Where?"

"Level 108."

Bau sighed. "Of course there is."

"Before you ask, security on level 108 is handled exclusively by Manticore, so if this Lawson is hiding there, then I have no means of locating him. The rich and famous and powerful like their privacy, you see." Morgan handed Bau the chips and the injection guns. "I do however, have my ways."

"As do I. I take it this means I'll have your cooperation?"

"Yes. The chips are fully loaded, save for names. Just fill the blanks with your Omni-Tool before you implant them into your followers. Also, you may contact me on frequency 411.50. Do keep in touch? I would prefer we could coordinate our efforts harmoniously."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Bau was still talking to this Morgan, Wrex had decided to pass the time and strike up a conversation with the pilot. Katzroy was, after all, the first Fiera he had ever met, so he figured he'd get to know her. He decided to talk business. Her business, more precisely.<p>

"So... fish." Wrex probed.

"Yep," answered Mjrn. "What about it?"

"How much money can you make hauling that kind of cargo?"

"Oh, plenty, if you know where to take it. Right now the Citadel's really, really short on real, fresh food... especially meat, fish and poultry."

"Why's that?"

"I was told there was a scare five years ago, something about alien food being infected with a virus. Since then, the Council ordered C-Sec to practically strangle the Citadel's food imports with tariffs, paperwork and thorough scans. But since Bau's a Spectre, he can get me through customs long before the food rots in the cargo bay. If it all works out, a million credits' worth of fish from Noveria could sell for twenty times as much at the Citadel."

Wrex whistled. Now that was a nice profit margin. "Nice... but wait, I thought the Citadel had its own fish — you know, in the Presidium lake?"

"That's what I heard, too, but the rumors are just that, rumors."

"Damn." Wrex had really, really wanted to try some of that fabled Presidium fish, if only to say that he did. But then something occurred to him. "So, the space station has no fish, but the ice planet has got so much of it they can sell it on the galactic market?"

"Well, Noveria isn't all ice and rock: a quarter of it is tundra, which supports a small wildlife. According to this..." she waved out a pamphlet. "...it's temperate at the equator, with a little landmass and plenty of oceans. Some human biotech firm set up an underwater ecosystem some fifteen years ago, and the soil around the same longitude is ideal for conifers. Consequently, Noveria now has got a lumber and a fishing industry. It's improved the economy of the Traverse quite a bit."

"Is that right? Huh... interesting."

"Are you thinking about taking up trading?"

"Me, a trader?" Wrex had to admit, in a thousand years he had never put much thought into his future beyond his next job... and, on occasion, the impending death of his entire race (which he quickly suppressed with a shot of Ryncol). By the sound of it, honest trading sounded like a good way to make coin, but he knew the risks involved. Nothing made a more tempting target than a ship with a hold full of cargo. He should know: he had helped pirates capture freighters plenty of times during his career. He had no desire for that kind of irony. "Nah. It's women's work."

Mjrn laughed. "Hah! Well, on my world, being a soldier is woman's work, and men like you should stay in the kitchen and raise the kids."

"Is that right? Your women handle all the fighting?" Wrex smiled. There was nothing that caught his interest more than women that could fight.

"Well, these days women kinda have to do everything, while the men... well, the men aren't doing much anymore."

"Too lazy?"

Mjrn suddenly looked a little sad. "Too few. There aren't that many of them, so us women had to pick up the slack."

Before Wrex could ask more, Bau came out of the conference room with some kind of injector gun and a set of chips in his hands.

"Everyone," said the Spectre, "I have your passports."

One by one, Bau gave everyone their ID chips, implanting the devices in their palms. Wrex's turn came last, but Bau took him aside, away from prying eyes and curious ears.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"She works for the Shadow Broker," said Bau as he implanted the chip in Wrex's palm. He spoke in Salarian Trade Basic, a language devised by the Salarians for ease of communication with other species, before the advent of translators. STG operatives still used the language, since it was never made part of any translator's database. Krogan, as part of their uplifting, had been thoroughly schooled in it, and a Krogan as old as Wrex was still quite fluent in it.<p>

"Ow!" Wrex hated needles, and he hated chip injectors even more. And that damned Salarian bastard had overcompensated for his thick skin, too... "How do you figure?" Wrex answered back in his own language.

"Be careful," warned Bau, making a subtle nod towards the conference room, where Morgan was talking over the phone. "It may not look like it, but Morgan is reading our lips. Reply in Basic, and keep your voice low."

"Fine, fine," Wrex mumbled in Basic. _Salarians and their paranoia,_ he thought.

"She made a search query to the C-Sec International Criminal Database and received up-to-date information on Mjrn Katzroy — directly from the Citadel itself. It takes half an hour for a priority one extranet search query to return, and the only ones with access to that priority are Spectres and the Council. There was only a ten minute interval between Katzroy pinging Port Hanshan Control and our landing."

"So?"

"Lately, one of the reasons the Shadow Broker has become such an appealing source of information is the promptness of his service. Exabytes of data that should take months to gather throughout the galaxy is delivered within hours of a transaction. How he achieves this feat is unknown, but as far as anyone knows he's the only one who can do this."

"Alright... so the Shadow Broker's got an interest in you. Big deal. You're a Spectre. He's probably got a file on every single one of you."

"True, but what really worries me is that it seemed this Morgan was trying to funnel me to the top level of Dosadi. Either she and the Shadow Broker are assisting me, or they're having me walk into a trap."

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

"For now? Prepare."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Goddamn it, the next time I see another sewer, it'll be far too soon," said Jensen.<p>

"Right there with ya," agreed Kasumi. "First chance I get, I'm going to break in someone's apartment and take the longest, hottest shower ever."

Adam gave her a disapproving look. "That... won't be necessary. There's running water in our hideout."

"_Our_ hideout?"

"Yeah, me and three others are holed up in an abandoned building. Right now the place is powered by an OVO cell, but Kaylee managed to tap into a water pipe. You're free to clean yourself up once we get there."

"Whoa, wait a minute, what makes you think I'm going there with you? Soon as we're out of this sewer, I'm gone."

"You've got any other hiding spots?"

"Well, I— err... hm. I've got a few, but Leng did find this apartment a little too quick. Don't know how secure my other hiding spots are."

"Leng?"

"He's the Manticore contractor Europa Genomics hired to handle their security. I was about to get my eyes cut out by his sister... Hey, speaking of which, how did you deal with her?"

"Very quickly," said Jensen, deadpan.

"...Huh. Well, in any case, how secure is that hideout of yours."

"We laid a few traps here and there. Tripwires, LAMs, and a few other improvised tricks."

"I suppose it will have to do, then."

The CALL icon suddenly came up in Jensen's AR display. It was from one Lieutenant Donna Morgan, SSC, but Jensen knew her best as Agent Brea.

_"Armitage here," _he replied sub-vocally.

_"Oh, bloody hell!" _complained Brea._ "I've been trying to reach you for an hour!"_

_"I was busy."_

_"Too busy to...?! Oh, never mind. Listen: our situation just got a bit more complicated. A Spectre named Jondum Bau just arrived on Noveria."_

If Adam could have sighed sub-vocally, he would have._ "...I see."_

_"You're not even remotely shocked?"_

_"Morgan, someone's taunting me over my Codec. I just outran a horde of cannibal mutant rat people, and something even WORSE than those killed them gruesomely. I still have their blood on my jacket. A Spectre showing up really isn't the highlight of my day."_

_"...mutant rat people?"_

_"Don't ask."_

_"Alright then, this should be a nice cherry on top then: Bau is here looking for Bryce Lawson."_

_"...shit."_

_"I know."_

_"No, I mean, I almost stepped on some. So... Bryce is here to find Ramsus, I take it?"_

_"Most certainly."_

_"Think he's already beaten us to him?"_

_"I doubt it. Europa Genomics likes its secrets, and it's not likely Scholar will divulge his to the AIA."_

_"Aren't Scholar and Lawson members of the Illuminati?"_

_"Lawson is just a pawn, and as for Scholar... well, we have reasons to believe that he is, but there's nothing concrete. Even if he were, the Illuminati isn't some monolithic entity. But we'll have to worry about that later; How is Goto?"_

_"A little worse for wear," _replied Adam, _"but she's okay. We're maybe half an hour away from the hideout, at this pace."_

_"Good. Once you're there, question her about Peak 15. Our search for Jack depends on it... Damn it, duty calls. Report to me as soon as you're done with her."_

"Hey, um... Basch?" asked Kasumi. "You looked a little lost in thought, there."

"Hm? Oh, sorry, I was trying to think about something besides the stink of this place."

"So... You never did say what you were doing in the neighborhood, Basch. I saw you take down that sniper on one of the rooftops."

"Well, it's a bit of long story."

"We still have a ways to go. I'm all ears."

"I'll just give you the abridged version...

"My partners and I were hired to find this guy by the name of Johann Ramsus. Client would like to have a word with him, something about his daughter or some such."

"He knocked his daughter up?"

"I didn't ask, but probably. Anyways, we tracked him to an apartment here on this level of Dosadi, but..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>2 days ago...<strong>_

_The AIA station, a small three story office building built in a residential area near the Souq, was as nondescript as possible when looked at from the outside. Inside, however, was a modern installation, full of sensitive data, well trained guards, and a security system that could give an STG operative pause._

_Or at least there would have been, if Johann hadn't passed through here. All Jensen and Moody had to do to get in was just... open the front door. He was greeted by a grimacing corpse propped up at the secretary's desk. A huge smile had been carved out of his small mouth. The bodies of thirty other people that were his co-workers had been treated with even less respect. _

_"Oh... oh dear god," muttered Jensen. He had dealt with serial killers on the Citadel and in Detroit, but as insane as they were, they were never this depraved._

_"I am really, REALLY glad we didn't bring the kid with us," said Moody, "I don't think she's got the stomach for this shit."_

_"And this is the guy they wanted as the first human Spectre?"_

_"If he gets the job, then we're all in for a world of trouble."_

_The offices were a mess: digital papers were strewn about, walls were smashed, and computers were broken in pieces, as if Johann couldn't make up his mind between searching or destroying the place. Moody had managed to salvage a computer's drive, and back at the hideout he and Tali had managed to repair the damage. A thorough search of an AIA agent's email had gleaned this much: Ramsus was looking for one Subject Zero, and the AIA had contacted Johnathan Scholar, the owner and CEO of Europa Genomics, to move Peak 15 'just in case'._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"...but the place was ransacked," Jensen lied. "And Johann was nowhere to be found. Still, we managed to have a look at his email account: he had managed to land a job at a Europa Genomics facility called Peak 15... and that's where our leads dried up. Peak 15 is a jealously guarded secret, and for all our hacking wizardry, we couldn't find anything on it on the net or anyone that knew anything about it."<p>

"And how did you get from there to saving my life?"

"Well, we heard something about your impending arrest by Manticore, something about stealing Europa Genomics' intellectual property? We figured that you might know where Peak 15 is, or point us at someone who does. Speaking of which, do you—"

"Oooooh no no no no no. First shower. Then I tell you."

Adam chuckled. "Right, _quid quo pro,_ and all that."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The manhole cover hissed open, and out came Jensen and Kasumi, both of whom were dirty, smelly, bloody, and more than happy to be out.<p>

"Oh..." Kasumi sighed, then breathed deep. "Fresh air... Well, here we are. All we need to do now is find your hideout. Where in the Souq did you say it was?"

Jensen looked around him, and he had to admit, he felt more than a little lost. They were close to some kind of sewage treatment plant, and he was certain they weren't in the Souq.

"We're not in the Souq, Kasumi."

"Sure we are, it's just over... oh. heh heh... I... might have had my directions a bit wrong."

"Any idea where we are?"

Kasumi looked at the treatment plant. "That's sewage recycling station A, that much I know, so the Souq should be... there. See that tower going up to the roof? The Souq's built around it. All we have to do is head that way, and we'll reach the edge of the Souq in about half an hour. After that."

"Let's go, then."

"Stick to the back-streets: two dirty, smelly, bloody strangers is bound to get some attention, and the SSC might still be looking for me."

"I doubt it. Near as I could tell, Manticore set up your arrest as a private sub-contract. There's no APB out for you."

"Leng probably hasn't given up, though."

"... true. Back streets it is, then."

As Adam and Kasumi began their trip, Jensen contacted Drebin, Moody and Tali, (or 893, Hank, and Kaylee, as per their aliases) to let them know he was alright, and on his way.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>District A1, better known as the Souq. The name came from open air marketplaces in the middle east and north africa on earth, and true to the name, it was the economical center of Lower Dosadi. It was a lively place, especially in the 'daylight' hours of the self-contained environment of the arcology. The buildings had a persian flair to them, and were made from a white, smooth looking concrete tarnished by years of exposure to pollution and water residue from the fake rain. The streets were busy with tourists and natives both, and merchants hawked their wares: Cheap films, cheap souvenirs, cheap electronics, cheap jewelery, cheap food, cheap <em>everything. <em>A lot of these goods, Jensen suspected, were likely stolen from above, in Middle Dosadi.

Not that Jensen could buy anything at the moment. He and Kasumi had to, more than once, bypass certain roads entirely due to the presence of SSC guards by scaling walls, and entering apartments while their tenants weren't looking. More than once did they have to hide: a few SK-105s were patrolling the skies.

Kasumi tried to execute a Kong (also known as the Monkey Vault), but her foot got caught on the top of the cement wall. Fortunately, she recovered, avoiding injury to her head.

"Hey!" Adam hurried to her side to help her up, after executing the Kong flawlessly. "You okay?"

Kasumi winced, and got up. Adam noted that she seemed a little dizzy.

"Yeah... yeah I'm okay, I mean, my foot hurts a bit. But I'm not crippled or anything."

"Do you need to take a moment to rest?"

"No!" She snapped. The thief seemed annoyed at Jensen's concern. Her pride as a Tracer had been wounded, and she wasn't exactly happy. "Like I said, I'm okay. Let's just keep moving. How much farther?"

"Still have some way to go. Don't push yourself too hard."

It took two hours to get to Jensen's hideout, time Kasumi took to converse some more.

"So... Basch? Got any hot water running through that hideout of yours?"

"Nah, the boiler's completely broke. Kaylee could have fixed it, but it wasn't a priority."

"Damn... Hey, I've been meaning to ask, how much is the guy paying you? You took a pretty big risk taking on Manticore just to rescue me."

"... A lot. Why? You want in on the action?"

"Well, seeing as I'm involved already, why not? I haven't got any decent crime lined up at the moment. My last job didn't turn out so good."

"The Ken Ruger job?"

"Yeah... how did you know?"

"I have my ways." Jensen smiled. "Of course, you're going to have to earn your cut."

"I always do... say, Basch? Do you have any hot water in that hideout?"

Jensen threw her a look. "Kasumi, you just asked me that."

"No I didn't!... Did I?"

Jensen nodded.

"Huh." Kasumi said dumbly. "I err... it's something I do sometimes? I like to ask all the questions I can think of, and I forget which ones I asked already."

Jensen didn't a believe a word of that. Something was wrong with her. "...Right. Look, we're almost there. "

"Awesome."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>On the fourth floor of the abandoned building, Tali had finished double-checking the escape routes Drebin had set up. On this floor in particular was a set of wire harpoon guns meant to create impromptu ziplines to the building across the street in case the fire escape was a no go. Besides that, there were a couple of floor boards on the roof meant to create a bridge to the neighboring buildings, and if that didn't work, there were always the high-density gas grenades that Hein had provided.<p>

A broken mirror was in the corner of the room, and Tali saw a stranger in it. It was her, of course, but with a different suit, a different helmet, and a different color of cloth. Tali wasn't sure she liked pink, but she did, however, like the way her hood bunched up a bit at the shoulders. It made her look more mature.

_Maybe Jensen will like it too_, she thought.

With little else to do, she went down to the third floor, where Fawkes 'Spooky' Moody and Smuggler Drebin had set up an extensive workshop and lab. Both of them were looking at the same screen, though Tali couldn't tell exactly what was on it from where she was standing.

"Hank? Any news from Jen... I mean, Jake?"

Moody leaned back against his chair, took a puff out of his cigarette, and blew a few rings. "Aw, are we doing more of that codename crap?"

"I know..." Tali sighed. "What's the point?"

"Well..." Moody leaned closer to Tali, and smiled conspiratorially, "We could be under surveillance, for one thing."

"Oh..." Tali had to admit, she was a little new at the spy game. "Are we being watched?"

"Nope." Moody relaxed in his chair, and took a drink of vodka. "I checked for bugs, and I've got a few sensors set up in every possible eavesdropping spot nearby. We can talk normal."

"Oh, oh good. So what are you and Drebin doing, Moody?"

"We're watching Jensen disarming my traps, and timing him," said Drebin.

"What?!" Tali rushed over to the screen, and indeed on the screen was Jensen and a woman, evading the traps Drebin had set on the first floor to keep potential invaders at bay. "Are you two insane?! He'll get hurt!"

Tali had watched the Omar work, and she had been both fascinated and horrified by his ability to turn an old building into a deathtrap.

"Don't worry about it," replied Drebin dismissively. "Most of the explosives are concussion bombs."

"You've set up a spike trap in the stairwell!"

"Which he just evaded," said Drebin coolly. "That was the last trap. Time?"

"Three minutes, twelve seconds," replied Moody eagerly. "Pay up, _mothafuckah_."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Why the traps?" asked JC, as he examined the apple Smuggler had just tossed him, no doubt making sure it wasn't a Griswald. "Afraid of something?"<em>

_"Just precautions," said Smuggler coolly, as he stuffed his handkerchief back in his jacket._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Drebin then reached in his jacket, pulled out a Nuyen stick, and tossed it casually at Moody.<p>

"Told ya he'd get through them. It's never a good idea to bet against someone like Jensen."

"Yeah well, I have to stand by my work."

They waited for Jensen and his latest rescued damsel to climb up to the third floor, and he arrived with his pistol drawn. Moody, upon seeing this, put his hand up. "Oh shit. It's a robbery. Take everything, man. Just don't hurt me." he said, grinning. Tali just shook her head at this.

"Why the hell didn't you guys answer the door?" asked Jensen, more than a bit annoyed as he holstered his weapon. "I had to evade a dozen booby traps to get here!"

"I was curious to see how you'd do," said Drebin. "That was almost as fast as him."

"I am getting really tired of people testing me," grumbled Jensen. "As fast as who?"

"JC Denton. And this must be the lovely Kasumi Goto." Drebin pulled out his handkerchief, and made a can of lemon lime soda appear. "Your favorite, I believe?" he said, as he handed it to her.

Kasumi gladly took the drink. "That it is, Mr...?"

"You may call me Smuggler. Behind me is Hank."

"Hey there," greeted Moody.

"And this lovely girl besides him is Kaylee," said Drebin. Tali hesitated for a moment, then remembered 'Kaylee' was supposed to be her name, and waved sheepishly.

"Pleasure to meetcha," said Kasumi, as she took a sip of her drink. "Mmmm, sweet sugary goodness. Also, didn't you say you have oleander memetic loan peace apple shed?"

Everyone in the room just stared at her.

"Um... what?" was all Tali could manage at the nonsense.

Kasumi tried again. "Simulate bungalow lathe buffs eternal system halo frogs blast the vent core?"

Kasumi kept on talking in word salad, growing more and more agitated, until she started to seize. She lost her balance, and as she fell Jensen quickly caught her. Her eyes were rolling back, and her eyelids were fluttering.

Then, she started foaming at the mouth.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: Sorry for the long wait, but I decided to take some time off, and I caught up with some gaming. I'll also be picking up Shin Megami Tensei IV soon. Hopefully this will provide me with some inspiration. This arc has yet to hit its stride, I think.<strong>_

_**CTE 750AE is the model number of the first ship you get in Freelancer.**_

_**By the way, if you're having a hard time imagining what the mistral looks like, I can tell you the ship wouldn't look out of place in Ikaruga.**_

_**Spellcheck by Setokaiva**_


	35. Chapter 31: The Dream Machine part 3

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos Montreal and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

_**~[h+]~**_

MASS EFFECT: HUMAN REVOLUTION

_**~[h+]~**_

Chapter 31: Noveria, The Dream Machine - part 3

_**~[h+]~**_

The Warrior is voiced by Michael Mando

Johnathan Scholar is voiced by Brian Cox

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Goddamn it! Is it the Soap?!" shouted Jensen in frustration as Kasumi seized up on the table, whimpering, taking quick, uneven breaths. He was trying to keep her pinned down on the table while Tali tried to inject the clone with some lorazepam. Eventually, Tali saw her chance, and pressed the injector gun into Kasumi's arm. The medicine would take several minutes to kick in.<p>

"No," answered Drebin, with a calm edge to his voice. "The worst thing Soap can do to you is make you puke. Was she poisoned?"

"One of the Manticore operators shot her with a poison bolt gun," said Adam, "but the RCA station and the Medi-Gel flushed that out. Could the station have caused it?"

"RCA stations don't do neurosurgery. Anything else out of the ordinary?"

Jensen thought back to that moment "It did tell her to report to her overseer because of some illegal mods."

"She's a modded clone?" Drebin proceeded to scan her head with his Omni-Tool. "Well, well, well... she is indeed modded."

"She's starting to calm down," said Tali. Indeed, Kasumi stopped spasming so much, but still twitched uncontrollably.

"That doesn't mean she's getting better," said Drebin. "Tali, keep her legs pinned. Spooky, keep her arms from flailing about." As the two of them took their places, Drebin turned to Jensen. "I need you to hold her head. Keep her still while I remove her wig."

"Her wig?" Adam complied, keeping Kasumi's head perfectly still by grabbing the base of her neck and her jaw while Drebin pulled at Kasumi's hair. Something popped, and her midnight-black hair was gently removed from her head, revealing a pale and very bald scalp. Jensen immediately noticed the cuts, seams, and studs of a cranial augmentation suite.

But Drebin wasn't quite done. "Now, turn her head to the left... gently... there." He activated his Omni-Tool, set it to its screwdriver mode, and removed a few studs on the side of Kasumi's skull.

"This isn't a clean room!" Tali protested. "If she gets infected..."

"Don't worry," Drebin reassured her: "I'm not gonna expose any meaty bits." Flesh colored plates opened up on Kasumi's temple, revealing a polymer shell beneath the skin. Drebin pushed a tiny button with his screwdriver, and a hatch on the polymer shell opened, revealing a small, transparent cube set inside a grid of micro-lasers and a tiny haptic interface emitter. "Besides, it's not like there's a clinic out here that can do maintenance on a knockoff of an Omar Cyberbrain frame."

A hologram appeared over the open port, an-all white holographic bust of Kasumi, made out of a multitude of tiny points of lights. The bust dissolved into a brain, and the brain dissolved into a complex spherical polyhedron surrounded by parts and fragments of an even bigger polyhedron... like continents orbiting a small world.

Spooky whistled, impressed. "Now that there is probably the most complex memory data network I've ever seen... although it's kinda patchwork, here and there. There's a bad sector, too."

"Yeah," agreed Drebin. "The micro-lasers are trying to access a micro-fractured region in the holographic data cube. Jensen? Did Kasumi get hit on the head?"

"Probably," said Jensen. "I spotted her engaging an SSC agent in hand-to-hand. I think he got a few good hits in. I guess he broke something."

"He did indeed," said Drebin. "Kasumi's stuck in a feedback loop. It's causing a cascade of failures throughout the rest of her brain. All I have to do is disable a couple of micro-lasers and..."

Just then, Kasumi started to gasp for air, and Jensen could feel her pulse quicken through his fingertips. "She's getting worse."

"Just a moment..." said Drebin as he guided a tiny filament in the micro-laser frame.

Kasumi's body shook even harder, and Tali and Spooky did their best to keep her perfectly still.

"She's not gonna make it..." said Tali.

"Just a moment..."

"You're losing her, man!" shouted Spooky...

"Just a moment."

"K... Keiji..." Kasumi barely managed to gurgle out what would be her last words.

"And... there." Drebin disconnected the offending micro-lasers and set the cyberbrain for a reboot. Kasumi's spasming stopped, her breathing returned to normal, and her eyes closed. Tali and Jensen took their hands off Kasumi, each taking a deep sigh of relief. Though Spooky seemed worried. He manipulated the Haptic interface.

"She's going to need some rewriting. A memory matrix like that isn't like a VI. You can't just delete some files and not expect some kind of conflict."

Drebin nodded silently.

"Excuse me," asked Tali, "but is this some kind of... infiltration gynoid? Is she an AI?"

"Well, that's a complicated answer," said Drebin as he and Spooky started setting up some tools and laptops. "Most of her brain is still organic, but near as I can tell, her memories and skills are stored in that cube."

"Last I checked, human augmentation was illegal on Earth," said Jensen. "And here we've got someone whose brain is more augmented than mine is."

"Well, we're not on earth now, are we?" said Spooky. "And I doubt Mrs. Goto here cares to much about legality."

Drebin plugged his laptop to Kasumi through a port in the back of her neck. "Clones aren't considered people," he said, "they're property. And there's no law against modifying your property as you see fit. I doubt she had much of a say in the matter, either. Sosamshin clones aren't exactly known for their ambition, if you know what I mean."

"And legally speaking," added Spooky, "the WTO has no law against human augmentation. Could be she figured she could get some mods without going to see a backstreet doc." He turned to Tali. "Hey, your people have a knack for coding, right?" asked Spooky. "I'm probably going to need your help, sweetheart."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" asked Jensen.

"Not a damned thing," replied Spooky. "Well, unless you know a thing or two about fixing several exabytes of Isomorphic code?"

Jensen felt a tingle in the back of his head just then. "...No, no I don't... I don't know anything about that."

Spooky gave him a look. "Right, look, you've had a nasty day, and you smell like a toilet. Get yourself cleaned up, eat something, and get some sleep. By the time you wake up, Kasumi will be right as rain, I promise."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>In a dark corner of Arcadia, Kasumi could feel her stolen memories of Keiji die before her very eyes, turning into glass shards. She desperately tried to hold on to each precious moment, but it was no use.<em>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Adam took a shower, Tali inspected the coat that she had spent so much platinum on. Apparently some mutant rat people had clawed at Jensen's face, and he had used his arms to shield himself. That was why the sleeves were so torn up.<p>

Tali took a deep breath, and sighed. She remembered fondly how Jensen had cracked only the barest of smile when she gave it to him. _Progress!_ she had thought then. Now that progress had been torn to shreds. Well, not completely, but still, that coat wasn't going to be worn anytime soon.

_Maybe I can find someone that can mend leather in Lower Dosadi... or even middle Dosadi, once Spooky finishes the counterfeit chips,_ she thought.

She folded the coat, wrapped it in plastic, and put it away in a container. There were other things that needed her attention, things like this Kasumi's brain. She, Spooky and Drebin tried to reconfigure the maze of data links that was Kasumi Goto's mind, but it was obvious their progress was slow. It would take years to create a bypass that would allow the clone to function like a normal human being. They had spent hours trying to come with a workaround, but in their simulations the results were always the same: Kasumi would unravel her own memories and become completely brain dead.

"I just spoke with Brea," said Drebin. "She wants us to focus on recovery, take out the cube... then meet her in Middle Dosadi. We'll go over Goto's memories."

"What about... what about the clone?" asked Spooky.

"...She wants us to dispose of it. Her."

"...That's cold. Too cold."

"I know. But we haven't got the time or the resources to fix this mess."

Spooky took a deep breath, sank back in his chair, lit up a cigarette, and closed his eyes. "There's one more thing I'd like to try before we write her off. Just give me until morning."

"Spooky, you haven't even finished the chips, yet. And Brea doesn't strike me as the patient type."

"Yeah well, last I checked, Adam's the one in charge of this op, and I doubt he'd give up on this rescue." Spooky sighed, and rubbed his eyes. "I can counterfeit those chips in my sleep. Just until morning. It won't cost us anything to try."

After a while, Drebin relented. "Fine. Take your shot. I'll back up Goto's data on a couple of drives."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Tali, Drebin and Spooky worked diligently to fix Kasumi's brain, Jensen had finished taking his shower. He put on a shirt and sweatpants, and went to sleep on a mattress Tali had prepared. It seemed the girl had paid particular attention to it, as Drebin and Spooky's sleeping arrangements were little more than cots. Jensen's bed had clean white sheets and a big fluffy pillow, which looked really inviting right about now. He laid his head on it, and closed his eyes...<p>

...

_Something was wrong about this place._

_It was a cold autumn in this forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark, black branches veining a foggy gray sky. Fallen dead leaves cracked under the pressure of Adam's footfalls, adding an echoing texture to the faint howl of the wind...and the whispers of unseen strangers that stalked a lonely, lost quarry._

_"Goddamn it. Not again."_

_What was it going to be this time, he wondered? Would his subconscious force him to revisit the time the people of Elysium had gone insane? Or perhaps the day when he had made a terrible decision that changed the lives of millions? Or worse still, the fiery night that claimed the life of his family?_

_"...Not again," he repeated, hoping his own mind would grant him some reprieve. When he saw a little black haired girl in the distance playing with dolls, he knew it was not to be._

_"Hello? Are you lost?" he heard himself say. But at the sound of his voice, the girl became frightful, and darted off like a deer. Adam gave chase. This was not a place for children, he thought. He had to take her away from here, he had to keep her safe._

_He had to keep them all safe. All the girls, and all the women in the world in need of aid. He didn't understand why he felt that urge, that compulsion to save them. Maybe something traumatic had happened to him—_

_..._

__"Alif...Don't be afraid." __

_The blade struck, and little Alif cried for his mother._

_..._

—_when he was little. He didn't know. He didn't remember, and he didn't want to._

_The chase continued for minutes, or maybe hours, it was hard to tell, until the girl ran into a cave._

_"Wait!" he shouted._

_Adam followed her in, only to find himself in a classroom full of laughter, with a terrified teenage french girl in her underwear at the front and center. She had an essay in her hand, and she was supposed to read it out loud, but then her clothes vanished, and this old guy in a long trenchcoat appeared, and Jensen realized that he really shouldn't be knowing those things, but he did. The little girl Jensen had been chasing giggled, then ran out of the classroom. Jensen followed her. _

_"Wait!" he shouted._

_Instead of running out to a hallway, he fell into another man's bed. Said man was enjoying some quality time with some Asari triplets before they turned into blue praying mantises and devoured his head and laid eggs inside his stomach. The little girl ran out of the fancy hotel room, and Jensen darted after her._

_"Wait!"_

_Jensen found himself falling from a tall building, with the little girl entering a manhole. Because this was a dream, Jensen controlled his fall, and fell into the hole._

_"Wait!"_

_Jensen emerged from the blue sea, which did not smell at all of sewage, and crawled on all fours onto a beach of white sand. At the edge of a forest of tropical trees there was a man clad in high tech military fatigues both torn and tattered — dark green, with red highlights, and gold metal parts — wearing half a red mask. His skin was tanned, and tattooed. He was talking to the little girl, who was standing not a foot away from his feet._

_He had a knife._

_"Wait!"_

_"Go," said the Warrior to the girl._

_Adam ran towards her, to keep her safe from the Warrior, but she ran from him, and fled into the forest. The Warrior made no motion to chase after her. This defused Jensen's instincts, and he promptly ignored the Warrior in favour of continuing the chase. As the man sitting on the sand stuck his leg out and tripped Jensen as he passed by, the cyborg realized what a mistake that was. _

_Jensen rose, his face full of sand, and tried to subdue the Warrior, but the man in the red mask was faster than he was. He danced around Jensen's punches, making wooing sounds every time, a parody of a hong kong martial arts hero. He leapt over and ducked under Jensen's side kicks for a whole minute before deciding that he was bored, then headbutted Jensen, knocking him out cold._

_"That. That was fucking embarrassing." said the Warrior as Jensen woke up. He was buried up to his neck in the sand, and the Warrior was squatting right in front of him, poking at Jensen's mouth to inspect his teeth. "Nowhere near as embarrassing as those teeth, though. You been flossing? You should always floss."_

_"I use a Cision Pro mk IV," explained Jensen, feeling a bit stupid for even mentioning it. "It uses—"_

_"I DON'T GIVE A **FUCK** ABOUT NO FUCKING STUPID SPACE MAGIC TOOTHBRUSH!" screamed the Warrior as he repeatedly hit Jensen over the head. "I'm talking about flossing! Proper! FLOSSING! You expect technology to solve all your fucking problems you STUPID, LAZY PENDEJO?! Do you?!"_

_The Warrior's fury subsided with startling alacrity, and he sat back in the sand, letting Jensen get an eyeful of his crotch. He sniffed, and rubbed his nose, and started playing with his knife. "See, that's why you lost back there. You tried to let your augs do your fighting for you."_

_"It's worked pretty well so far," Jensen spat back._

_"And it failed you with the Bull. It failed you with the Mantis. And it would have failed you with the Snake. Augs, in here? They don't matter. They don't fucking matter. Carbon nanotubes and starfire modules powered by candy bars don't count for shit here, in this place. What counts..." he put a hand on his chest. "Is here, man. That's what will save you in the end. It has already saved you a couple of times, I can tell. You have to learn. Learn to harness that fire."_

_"Who are you?" asked Jensen. He tried to read the name on the masked man's fatigues, but the letters didn't make any sense._

_The Warrior laughed. "Ha. Hahahahaha! Man! Man oh man, is that is the wrong question to ask ME. The question should be, the question is... what do you want?"_

_"What do you want?"_

_"I'm asking you, fool!" the warrior threw a coconut at Jensen's head._

_"Ow!"_

_"What do YOU want? Come on man, what do you want?"_

_"I want to get out of here and away from you, that's what I want right about now!"_

_The Warrior laughed even harder, and leapt on his feet. "You'll give me a much better answer one day, but today is not the day." He began to bury Jensen's head in the sand, using his feet to kick the white powder in place._

_"Wait! What are you doing?!"_

_"Sending you on your way, man. A word of warning: You ever hear the definition of insanity?"_

_"It's..." Jensen spat out some sand. "It's doing the exact same thing over and over again, and expecting different results."_

_"Clever boy! That's right, that's right, that's EXACTLY what it means, and the guy you're about to meet? He's completely loco. Remember that when he makes a suggestion, when he advises you. Remember that he's done all of it before, and he's doomed to do it all over again."_

_And then all was dark, and Jensen couldn't breathe._

_But he did not die. _

_Instead, he fell, slowly, into a black void. Lights floated down around him, as if guiding his fall, while others rose. Eventually, he could see an island in the void, a mostly spherical rock with a single tree growing out of it, its roots cracking and fracturing the stone._

_Adam landed gently on the rock, and looked around. Nothing but void and lights as far as his eyes could see. Jensen approached the tree, and fused within the trunk was a person, and he recognized its light tan robes, mechanical limbs, and peculiar headdress immediately._

_"Aleph?" he called._

_No answer._

_Adam tried to tap his face to get his attention only to be struck by a small crack of lightning. _

_"Ow!" he winced. How come dreams could be so painful? Something winged, and blue and bright flew around his head, and hovered in front of his face._

_"Don't touch him, stupid!" said the Pixie, and Jensen though it was odd that he knew what the miniature young woman was called. "He's asleep!"_

_"Why?" Adam asked._

_"Because your brain is too tiny! If he wakes up, your head will explode!"_

_Adam got in front of Aleph, and looked at his face. While it lacked a mouth, it did have eyes, and they were shut. _

_Rationally, Jensen should have heeded the warning, but this was a dream, and often the first impulse one had in a dream was turned into action immediately, and Adam shook Aleph's shoulder._

_"No!"_

_Aleph's eyes opened._

_At first, there was light. An entire sun formed above, and the void became a blue sky and an horizon. From that surface rose stones, and trees, and cities, and people not unlike Aleph. Then came the ships, flying alongside beasts just as mighty as they. And finally came the Titans, ambulant fortress taller than the very buildings they were guarding._

_Adam could feel a pressure inside of his head, but it was gentle and dull, and not all that painful._

_The tree trunk shifted, widening an opening through which Aleph could step out. The Promethean turned to Jensen, then the Pixie._

_**"I... I am awake." **Aleph's voiced boomed gently._

_The Promethean looked around him._

_**"There is something wrong about this place."**_

_"Yeah, I know," said Adam._

_**"It feels like Gimmel's work, but it reeks of the Void. We are being watched by millions of dreamers at once. My mind is given form by them."**_

_"What do you mean?" asked Adam, confused._

_**"We are inside a Dream Machine."**_

_"Excuse me?"_

_**"I apologize, I did not mean to sound so vague. Your brain is linked to a theta wave parallel processing system, and thus my presence in your mind is being processed by a multitude of other brains, sharing the workload of my thoughts and speech. Technologically speaking, it is not impossible for you to do, but the scale... the medium of communication by which the minds are linked — that is, the Void — is very much beyond your ability to control."**_

_"Method of communication? Am I linked to this Dream Machine via my telecom package?"_

_**"Unlikely. Or perhaps..." Aleph closed his eyes, and spread his hands outwards, and shuddered. "The one you call Kasumi Goto attempted to hack you, and your defensive programs barred her way... but the connection was not severed, and she pulled you here through her integrated Dream Catcher hardware."**_

_"Oh, this is just fantastic."_

_**"We do not have much time. I can feel her mind dying. Come, we must hurry."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"It's useless..." muttered Tali.<p>

"You don't know that," said Spooky through gritted teeth. "Run the simulations again."

"It's the same thing! At first the construct stabilizes, but then it rips itself apart. Unless we can extract those memories from the faulty sectors of the cube, nothing will do the trick!"

"Just run the numbers."

"Spooky..."

"JUST DO AS I SAY!" snapped Spooky, startling Tali. He practically chewed his cigarette, and calmed himself down. "Shit! I'm sorry, I'm sorry I just... I can't give up. I won't."

Tali looked at Kasumi, her form dead still on the table. Her eyes were wide open, but they were neither begging for death or pleading for life. There was nothing behind them. No soul. Only malfunctioning technology. Why these humans sought to save such a thing was beyond her. What was the point? _She isn't real!_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Paprika OST - A Drop Filled with Memories]<strong>_

_Adam followed Aleph, going from the dream of one person to next as easily as reading through a wiki: Just follow the links. They had walked on the bones of a dragon, swam through a sea of sound, and flown in a sky of diamonds. Before that, they had floated down a whirlpool of milk using rose petals as parachutes (well, Adam did. Aleph simply floated down). And now, they were walking through a desert, the dream of an Algerian boy who wanted to visit his homeland. Adam noticed that, with each footstep Aleph took, the sand became cobblestones, and between their cracks sprang white lilies, which shrivelled and died within seconds. Adam looked down: no plants sprang from his footsteps. _

_Then, he heard music on on his left, and he turned to see a parade of ambulant children's toys._

_"Huh," was all Jensen could manage to say._

_Aleph let out a small, but friendly laugh. **"I am always amazed at what the young can dream up. Were it not for the Enemy, you would all be able to bring those dreams into the real a long, long time ago. Alas..."** _

_"Is the blue fairy part of the Dream Machine, as well?"_

_**"Yes... and no. She is my oldest companion, and I carry her within me wherever I go."**_

_The Pixie sat on Aleph's shoulder, and looked back at Adam with contempt. She stuck out her tongue at him, and Adam, not being in any mood for any crap from a Tinkerbell wannabe, gave her the finger. Aleph put a stop to any further reprisals._

_**"Enough, children." **_

_"She started it." Adam deadpanned._

_Aleph sighed, and changed the subject. **"I can feel that you've mastered the Zero Shift already. That is... a more advanced Dark Energy skill than I intended for you, but it will be a very useful ability in the times to come. What of Zio? Or Tarukaja? Have you acclimated to them yet?"**_

_Jensen had absolutely no idea what Aleph was talking about. "Excuse me?"_

_**"You do not know of what I speak? Odd, you interfaced with the Grimoire on Vulcanus, did you not? Zio should have been the first thing your mind absorbed, even as I shunted everything else back into it."**_

_"Yeah well... I mostly recall you hijacking my body and my brain being set on fire."_

_**"Hm... perhaps you do not have the necessary integrated hardware for it. The EM Pulse generator lodged in your coccyx may not be precise enough. Do commune with the Grimoire once more? There are Forma — that is, schematics — in there that you shall find very useful, and the cache of Macca on Vulcanus will be invaluable in bringing them to life."**_

_Adam shrugged. "I'll uh, I'll see what I can do."_

_A silence fell between them, as they stepped on a field of glass wheat._

_**"Well?"** asked Aleph, as the elephants flew over head._

_"Well what?" replied Jensen, as he parted a cloud of cotton candy with his hands. It didn't even occur to him to eat some._

_**"You have questions. This link is a golden opportunity for me to communicate without your mind being damaged. So ask them while you can, and I shall answer them to the best of my ability." **Aleph had said this as the bridge of mannequin legs gathered under his feet over a ravine, with a mass grave of dolls lying at the bottom._

_"The 'best of your ability'?"_

_**"A significant amount of data is unavailable, and will remain as such until you interface with more Grimoires."**_

_"Alright then," Adam sighed, as he rode on a giant turtle. "So there's an easy one: What are you, exactly?"_

_**"I am an Anima Construct of the first Promethean, Aleph. I am a Gestalt of his thought, memories and experiences. My purpose is to prepare the future generations for the coming of the Reapers."** Aleph said this as he opened the ribcage of the pirate king and stepped inside a black hole set in the middle of a conch shell's spiral._

_"The Reapers... Saren mentioned those in his speech to the Geth. Who are they? What do they want?"_

_**"They are the agents of Nazara, and they want to see their master's desire fulfilled: to harvest all sentient life."**_

_"What are they exactly? I mean, what do they look like?"_

_**"You already met one: Naamah."**_

_"That... ghostly worm thing was a Reaper?"_

_**"You sound almost disappointed."**_

_"I expected... I don't know, something even bigger. Like an ancient giant spaceship shaped like a cuttlefish, or something."_

_Aleph looked at Adam quizzically.** "Why would you even think that?"**_

_"...I don't know. No, wait, I DO know: Shepard. She saw the Sovereign rise. It was a three kilometre long dreadnought shaped like something out a Lovecraftian nightmare."_

_Aleph stopped, and the lilies turned to vines that clung to his feet. **"Show me."**_

_"How?"_

_**"Will it to be, and it shall appear."**_

_Adam closed his eyes, and on the horizon, the Sovereign appeared, perfectly still, its red lights glowing with a sickly, burning glow._

_Aleph took one look at it and began to walk away. **"Hmph. That is not a Reaper... at least, I have never encountered one with a warform such as this."**_

_"Really? Never ever?"_

_**"I have seen even larger vessels with a Reaper in command, yes, but this display of shock and awe is not their way. They are subtle, corrupting creatures. They touch nothing directly. They fight through lies and proxy warriors, just as Naamah did on Vulcanus. Only when they are cornered do they unleash their warforms, and those were never bigger than perhaps fifty of your meters."**_

_"You'd think something out to kill everything would have more firepower."_

_**"War machines such as this would provide a focal point for aggression, a foe to unite against. That is the last thing Nazara wants."**_

_That, Jensen thought, was very interesting. "So why do Nazara and the Reapers want to harvest all sentient life? What for?" just as he asked that, they passed a herd of electric sheep. Jensen counted them: there were one thousand, one hundred and eighty-three of them._

_Aleph seemed to glitch for a moment, and he shook his head. **"Data unavailable."**_

_"Alright then, who is Nazara?"_

_**"...Data unavailable."**_

_As Aleph uttered the words, Adam realized that he was _lying... _though not out of malice. There was something about this Nazara that was too painful for Aleph to share, but Jensen could feel there was a connection between Nazara and the Prometheans._

_"What were the Prometheans, exactly?" he asked. There were now somewhere dark, and the only illumination came from a gallery of holographic paintings and images suspended in mid-air. They were all shattered._

_**"...We were a race of biomechanical constructs created by — data unavailable — to fight the — data unavailable — in the army of the Mesians. When the war was... over. There was not much life in the galaxy left. We took it upon ourselves to seed the galaxy with new life, and guide the newer civilizations... I'm sorry, you are asking for some very ancient history."**_

_"I need more Grimoires, huh?"_

_**"Just so..." **said Aleph, and he came to a stop.** "We have arrived."**_

_"What? This is Kasumi's dreamscape? There's nothing here but broken pictures."_

_**"Broken pictures... and Stolen Memories. Look down."**_

_On an invisible floor was a doll, a shaped cloth sack filled with cotton. Its eyes were black buttons, her smile was a seam. It looked just like... "That's... that's Goto. That doll, the little girl had it in her hands."_

_**"That was her. She created a small avatar and reached out to you."**_

_There was a plastic ring on the Kasumi doll's back, and Jensen pulled at it. The mechanism revved, and the doll spoke:_

"Hello, my designation is Echo Alpha Six. I am a sixth generation Sosamshin clone, exotic model. I can look after your house, do the cooking, mind the kids... I can organize your appointments, I speak over a hundred languages and I am entirely at your disposal as a sexual partner. Would you like to give me a name?"

_"Is that..." muttered Jensen. "Is that all that's left of her?"_

_**"No. Look around you. These memories are shattered, but they can be repaired. Look."** Glass shards gathered into a frame, and the image of Adam Jensen, or Basch as Kasumi knew him, came together. Adam touched the image, and felt Kasumi's impression of him... and her interest. Then came the image of the actual Jake Armitage, or Conrad Verner, a bumbling man that Kasumi had found absolutely adorable. **"Your mere presence here in her mind is making her put together the pieces of her life, her real life, but it is not enough."**_

_"Can you fix her?"_

_**"...Yes, I can restore this Gestalt of borrowed data... but I cannot do it here. I must step out from the unreal into the real, and manipulate her hardware. That, after all, is where the real damage is."**_

_"Step into the real? You mean, you have to use my body?"_

_**"Yes, and as you will be partially awake I cannot use the processing power of the Dream Machine to make myself manifest. I will have to use your brain and only your brain... and that will put a lot of stress onto your psyche. You could walk away undamaged, or you could become brain dead. I won't know until I try... And that is why I must ask you a question."**_

_"Alright, ask."_

_**"Should Kasumi Goto continue to exist?"**_

_"What kind of stupid question is that?! Of course she does!"_

_**"I am well aware of your first instinct: To save the one, the few..."** Aleph pointed a mechanical finger at Adam. **"But you, Alif, you have a duty to the Many, and potentially sacrificing yourself for a thief will not serve any cause. Not yours, not mine."**_

_"She knows where I can find Peak 15, and that will lead me to Ramsus. I need her. Fix her."_

_**"I need not repair her mind completely to give you that location. I can simply reconstitute the data from here and impart it into you. And I can do even more."**_

_"Aleph, I don't have time for this!"_

_**"I can distill these stolen experiences, this wealth of knowledge she has kept selfishly to aid in her survival. Here, there is knowledge of sciences and medicine that will aid you in understanding future Grimoires. Here, there is knowledge of motion and infiltration far above your own, that will aid you in endeavours. I can give this to you, and make you stronger, and you will be able to save even more lives."**_

_"Yeah, that sounds just fantastic, except _this_," Adam angrily shook the doll at Aleph, "THIS will be all that's left of her! I get all the benefits and she pays the price?! No, fuck your deal! Fix her!"_

_**"Would her existence be so unbearable? Consider that she was created solely to please and serve others."**_

_"As a slave! She should be free!"_

_**"Should she? She never asked to be free, or to be enhanced. Or did you really think every demi-human subaltern you encountered had a deep, secret thirst for freedom?"**_

_Adam was going to argue, but there was no denying that he had built Goto's entire story in his mind based on what little he had seen and heard. An inspiring story of a slave that broke her shackles and escaped a cruel, abusive corporate master. It was quite foolish, now that he thought about it. For all he knew she was unfeeling and amoral, and would stab him in the back when the opportunity presented himself. He had saved Brea, a highly capable murderer, who may or may not have killed children. What had Goto done? What had Sun-Mi done?_

_**"Decide quickly; as you said, we do not have much time."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Spooky had failed. Just like he had failed the rest of Spookies. Hiro, Melissa, Six... all just kids, barely out of their teens, and he had failed them all. He had failed to protect them from the templars, to protect them from their bullets, to protect them from death. He had hoped to make amends one day, but today would not be this day.<p>

There was no more saving Kasumi's memories with a dozen VIs than saving Six from a bullet wound with CPR. He had tried, and he had failed, and with realization the sleepless hours had caught up with him. He shut his eyes for just a moment, and then his head rested on the keyboard, and Spooky fell asleep, a burning cigarette in his mouth.

Tali, who had just woken up, put a blanket over the tired human after removing and disposing of that cigarette. She had watched him work like a man possessed, his eyes darting from side to side, absorbing thousands of lines of codes in instants while his fingers worked frantically over the haptic interface of his laptop. She didn't have the heart to tell him then: fixing Isomorphic code was impossible. Once it was corrupted, it would inevitably tear itself apart. Better engineers than her had tried to solve that problem, and failed, and they had far more resources on hand and far more time.

But she had smiled, and nodded, and helped. He seemed so... focused, so determined. She found that admirable, and yet she felt... angry that such passion was focused on what was essentially a piece of flesh animated by an AI. It was wrong, why couldn't the humans see that? Why wouldn't they learn from the Quarian's mistakes? Nothing ever good ever came out of organic sapients interacting with synthetic ones, let alone MERGING them.

"What are we going to do with the body?" she asked Drebin, who had not slept nor had ever needed to since his transformation.

"She's not dead yet."

"She might as well be, once we pull out the cube."

"...I don't know. A bullet to the head? A quick snap of the neck? Poison? I was never called upon for a mercy kill. I'm not even sure if it is really a mercy. We haven't got a way to know what Goto would want us to do."

"We can't just... leave her like this. She'll starve. And what are we going to tell Jensen?"

If Omar could sigh, Drebin certainly would have. "I don't know. Maybe we can leave it up to him."

**"He has already made his decision."**a quiet, calm voice boomed from the doorway leading to the bedroom, and in it was Jensen, though it was not really him. His eyes glowed green and yellow, and he was surrounded in a hologram of a man in robes and a semi-circular headdress. Tali recognized him instantly from the first time she used the Dream Catcher... Though Drebin, not quite in the know as to what was sleeping in Jensen's head, pointed his pistol at the ethereal, semi-holographic figure.

**"Don't be afraid," **said Adam, as he shambled towards them. Drebin kept his weapon trained on him nonetheless.

"Put the gun down..." murmured Tali. "I don't think he'll appreciate being shot." She glanced at Spooky, who was still very much asleep despite the commotion. She tapped his shoulder, and he woke up with a start.

"KISS THE TIP!" he slurred out, loudly. Still groggy, he noticed Tali, and realized that he wasn't dreaming about a hot nun anymore (much to his chagrin), and wondered if he was really awake when he saw Adam surrounded by a hologram. "Whoa!" he got out of his chair, and backed away, and readied his Omni-Gun.

**"Put that down. I am not here to hurt you, but to save her. Let me pass."**

Tali motioned at Spooky to put his weapon down, and she let Adam approach Kasumi. He waved his hand over her open skull, and his newly integrated biotics flared, extracting the cube with a gentle, invisible force.

"Hey!" protested Spooky, but before he could stop Adam, the holographic data storage cube exploded into a blue green light, and hundreds of complex holograms orbiting a fragmented polyhedron sphere. Spooky and Drebin's laptop added to the cacophony of light, as Adam manipulated the holograms with his hands. Dozens of them shifted with every movement of his fingers, and hundreds moved with a wave of his hands.

And then the broken sphere seemed to mend.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Inside the broken mind of the clone, the millions of shards of shattered memories coalesced into a gallery of paintings and pictures, and Jensen dropped the Kasumi doll. It melted and sank into the floor, and soon after a multitude of life-sized, proportionally human porcelain dolls dressed in a variety of outfits rose from the black liquid. They stumbled, and their heads clicked, rattled, and shook violently.<em>

_"Hello, my name is Remy Hadley," whispered the doll dressed like a doctor, her lips perfectly still._

_"My name is Corra Paige," whispered the doll dressed like a biker._

_"My name is Alex Kelly," whispered the doll dressed as a bartender._

_"My name is Brooke," whispered the prostitute._

_"My name is Rachel Salas," whispered the pregnant doll._

_A thousand more names were whispered, each attached to a different profession, a different identity, a different soul, until finally:_

_"I can be..."_

_"WE can be..."_

_"...whatever you want..."_

_"...you want us to be."_

_"Would you like to give me a name?"_

_The dolls stood still, staring, expecting. And Jensen was at a loss as to what to do next. Had Aleph been successful?_

_His thoughts then turned to two blonde children: Twins, one boy, and one girl. Unlike the rest of the Kasumi personas, these didn't look like dolls at all. Snow fell on them, and Jensen realized that they did not belong there at all. He approached the twins, slowly, gently pushing aside the dolls in his way._

_"Don't come any closer," warned Remy._

_"That memory does not belong here," warned Alex._

_"These poor children..." sobbed Rachel. _

_The boy smiled at Jensen like a cat toying with his prey, turned to his sister, and with his index finger touched the middle of her forehead. He traced a spiral, and the spiral became a hole, and the hole became a vortex, and Jensen was pulled into it, and the visions surged into his brain._

_Flashes of needles puncturing skin, faceless doctors probing, questioning._

_A Priestess._

_A Merchant._

_A Knight._

_The world in their palms._

_Inside the world was a Sovereign. _

_Within the Sovereign sat the Spectre._

_Behind the Spectre, a burning Vortex the size of a sun,_

_a flow of anguished souls spiralling into a chitinous, pulsating heart the size of a moon._

_This was Hell._

_Sleeping above the heart, in a fetal position,_

_His arms crossed, his hands wrapping his face,_

_Was a regal figure of gleaming, dark metal._

_On its head was a shattered halo._

_Its eyes opened, burning embers of red and orange._

_**"FEAR ME," **it said,_

_and its voice was a wave of heat that burned Jensen down to his very bones._

_He tried to scream, but his throat had burned away._

_Then, he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder, then others, and was pulled away._

_Adam fell on his knees, panting and sweating. He was back in Kasumi's dreamscape, surrounded by her personas. They looked down at him, their heads tilted. They, along with Aleph, had pulled him back from the brink._

_**"I told you to stay here," **Aleph scolded Adam, then sighed. **"You keep good company: had the quarian and the human not written a Metamorphic subroutine, repairing Kasumi's mind would have taken longer. As it is, your mind shall remain undamaged, and she will soon wake, unaware of what has happened."**_

_"Never mind that— What the HELL did I just see?!"_

_**"That... was a vision of the Shibboleth."**_

_"We tried to hide it..." whispered one of Kasumi's personas._

_"Tried to forget..."_

_"Tried to erase..."_

_"Tried to flee..."_

_"Tried to vanish..."_

_**"It seems Goto, in her journeys through the Dream Machine, encountered someone dreaming of the Shibboleth. This... this is troubling."**_

_"The Shibboleth? What the hell are you talking about?! Make some goddamned sense!"_

_Aleph's form fizzled and distorted briefly into a cloud of voxels, and he looked at his hands, his eyes barely containing his horror._

_**"I don't have much time, I need to...!" **he fizzled again, and grabbed Adam by the shoulders.** "Alif! Listen to me! Find this person! Find this portion of the Shibboleth and deny it from Nazara's thralls! THE CONDUIT MUST REMAIN CLOSED!"**_

_Aleph's words warped and warbled, and no longer made any sense, he stumbled, and fell forward, and Jensen caught him._

_"Wait! I have more questions!" shouted Jensen, shaking Aleph by the shoulders. "What is the Shibboleth!? Was that Nazara in that vortex?! Why does he look like you?! ANSWER ME!"_

_But it was too late. The dream was collapsing._

_Kasumi Goto was awake._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Upper Dosadi - Europa Genomics Headquarters - Johnathan Scholar's office.<strong>_

In an office of dark marble and carved into New Art Deco and Art Nouveau styles and fashions, a man was sitting at a desk of ivory. A bas-relief has been carved onto its face, a triptych detailing the rise and fall of Jesus Christ. The man was a brown-haired, bearded, slightly overweight white European in his mid fifties, wearing a pinstriped business suit, its cut vaguely influenced by Edo period Japanese kimonos.

The man's name? Johnathan Scholar, CEO and owner of Europa Genomics and the founder of the Dosadi Project. He was sitting at his desk, his breakfast untouched. He was admiring the Noveria sunrise that was bathing his office in a golden glow, a glorious, unmoving eruption of purple and orange. Many thought that Noveria, being an 'ice planet', was all blues and whites all the time. Twenty years ago, they would have been mostly right, but the slow process of terraforming was giving Noveria a growing vibrancy. Such was the power of money. His money.

He took a moment away from his sun gazing to put on his glasses and read his e-book. The big news on the front page? The Citadel was inching ever closer to finally choosing the first human Spectre. He pressed on a thumbnail, and a video started playing.

...

__"Ambassador Udina," said Tevos. "We have decided to call upon these individuals to evaluate them for Spectre hood." At this, the Council chamber was drowned in murmurs. It was finally happening. Soon, there would be a human Spectre.__

__"Lieutenant Kim Tae-Yeon, Commodore Yang Wen-Li, Sergeant Nathan Frost, Flight Lieutenant Elsa Devereaux, and Lieutenant Johann Ramsus," Velarn recited. "One of these individuals is to become the first human Spectre."__

__"These five men and women," added Sparatus, his tone commanding, "are to appear before us in seven standard galactic days, and no later. Otherwise, their candidacy is forfeit."__

__"Thank you, Councillors." Udina bowed. "I shall summon them at once." And with that, this session of the Council was adjourned.__

_..._

Ah, Johann Ramsus, thought Scholar. The most spectacularly expensive failure since JC Denton. At that particular moment, Johann Ramsus was making a pest of himself at Peak 15, attempting to interfere with the Arcadia system by freeing Subject Zero. Of course, he triggered the facility's security systems. Judging by the fact that Arcadia was still running, it was obvious he had not disconnected her. Doing so would kill her, after all, and Ramsus was no more willing to risk her life than cut off his own arm.

Ramsus' attack, and the inevitable response by the Triumvirate had been the reason why Scholar had ordered a complete blackout on Peak 15: anyone that had ever worked or seen or heard about the facility would have his or her memories edited by Arcadia, and those not a part of the system would be disposed of in other ways. Kasumi Goto was, as far as Scholar knew, the only loose end.

Scholar heard the elevator doors hiss in the distance, and then the approaching footfalls of combat boots. He recognized the sound immediately.

Jules Kai Leng sat down opposite John Scholar, and without even saying 'hello', slid the silver tray as loudly as possible, poured milk into the bowl of bran cereal, and helped himself to it.

"Leng?" asked Scholar, as if scolding a small child. "You're eating my cereal."

Leng gave Scholar a look that said 'So?', chewing a mouthful of cereal all the while.

"Ah, do forgive me," said Scholar sarcastically. "I forgot who I was talking to. Have you read the news lately?"

"I did," replied Leng. "Humanity's going to get a Spectre in about seven days, Johann's one of the candidates."

"Yes, well, I suspect that by the time we've dealt with him his chance will have come and gone." Scholar tossed the e-book on his desk, and swivelled his big leather chair to face his chief of security. "Speaking of which? I wanted the situation on Peak 15 resolved days ago." Scholar's voice was raised, and his tone demanding and authoritative. "Every minute that he spends in there brings us closer to a scandal that Europa Genomics can't afford!"

Leng put the cereal away. "I can do it quietly, or quickly, not both," he lit a cigarette and began to smoke. "I'm bringing dregs that nobody will miss — bums, transients, mutants, the occasional alien — and uploading the Zaeed Massani package in their heads. That takes a while, and I was told that if I stress the Arcadia system too hard people will notice, and then we'll have a scandal on our hands."

"How many foot soldiers have you managed to gather so far?"

"About a hundred."

"Isn't that enough?"

"To retake a facility full of giant alien bugs, flying mutant sharks and, oh yeah, with Johann Ramsus inside? Fuck no."

"You're going to have to step it up, two envoys from the Phantom Society were here to recover Subject Zero, and they brought in one of Lawson's insufferable entitled rejects along."

"Well shit, Blacklight's here, too? Why don't you just let Lawson have a go at taking the facility? That ought to solve your problems, one way or another."

"Not an option! Europa Genomics is on the verge of a breakthrough that will change the human condition forever, and Subject Zero is the key to it all. I need her at Peak 15 and out of the Phantom Society's hands."

"Can't imagine the Triumvirate will be happy about that."

"I don't care. Do what you have to. Let me worry about my... patrons."

Leng breathed out some smoke, and scratched the bridge of his nose. Dealing with bullheaded clients gave him a headache. "Fine, I'll see about hiring proper mercs. I'll dispose of them once the job's done, of course. Shouldn't take me more than an day to get things in order."

"Good, now for the other order of business. What of Lorik Qui'in and his little indiscretion?"

"Lorik's been liquefied in one of the recycling vats. As for Goto, well... I'm working on it."

"Ah, working on it? Is that what you call losing several Storm Crow mechs and Raven being beaten to within an inch of her life?"

"Last we saw of her she was headed down in the old Metro. She hasn't been seen coming out since, so we can safely assume she's been taken by the Stranglers. Once they realize that she's no use to them for breeding they'll use her as food."

"I'd feel a lot better if you could produce a body."

"Yeah well, this new SSC lieutenant kept me from sending a team down there, because, apparently, I had just breached a clause in the contract I set up for the capture."

"The 'necessary force' one?"

"Yeah."

"I've met with this Lieutenant Morgan." Scholar grabbed a seedless grape from a small fruit bowl on the silver tray and ate it. "She... left quite an impression..."

Leng chuckled. "She is fuckable, isn't she?"

"Yes, and not only that she's already made the SSC presence in Dosadi much, much more effective. I like that: there aren't enough people out there actively striving for excellence." he looked meaningfully at Leng, but the man was not all that good at picking up subtle social cues.

"Did she? Well, she'll still likely be more of a hazard than a benefit to you. You want me to kill her?"

"Hm... no, she isn't actively working against us, unlike Parasini, and I'm not in the habit of killing off good talent. How is Parasini, by the way?"

"Raven and I..." Leng smiled. Scholar hated it when Leng smiled. There was no mirth in his dull, grey eyes. "Well, we're starting to wear her out a bit."

"Ah, well, Morgan won't be replacing her any time soon, so do try and keep her going a bit longer, yes?"

"I make no promises. How is Raven doing?"

"She's fine. Her concussion is gone and her limbs have been restored. My bio-technicians work quickly," he smiled with some pride. Unlike most corporate managers, Scholar made a point to see to the recruitment of intelligent, diligent workers personally. "She is waiting for you at your apartment."

"Good. Is there anything else?"

Scholar's console beeped. "Hold on a minute," said the CEO to the Manticore operator. He accepted the incoming video call, flagged as important on the screen. "Yes? What is it?"

**~[h+]~**

* * *

><p><strong>Upper Dosadi - Europa Genomics Headquarters - Arcadia monitoring room<strong>

In a dark, circular room, there was a holographic pit that projected a globe made of a million white dots. It represented the hundreds of thousands of souls connected to Arcadia. As far as anyone knew, Arcadia was a revolutionary entertainment system, the evolution of the DreamCatcher, but made cheaper through cloud processing. For the low, low price of forty thousand credits (or seventy-four thousand Nuyen), a cortical chip upgrade could allow you to dream lucidly, and share those dreams with anyone your wished. Arcadia was already turning out to be a boon for Scholar's researchers: They could formulate theories, share ideas, and solve problems even as they slept.

But John wasn't just anyone. He knew that Arcadia, once its prototype phase was over and mass deployment was possible, was going to be essential when the subtle manipulations of the Illuminati wouldn't be enough, and direct intervention would be necessary.

"Well, Mr Rallis?" Scholar asked the small, brown-haired head technician. Leng stood behind the technician, looming over him with a cigarette in his mouth. "What was so important that you couldn't just tell me over the phone? I'm a busy man, and I don't like surprises."

"We... had an anomaly in the system," said Rallis, his eight-fingered, mechanical hands manipulating the haptics of his workstation with lightning speed. He was so focused on his work that it was easy for him to ignore Leng's smoking. "We've received hundreds of user complaints of a Dreamwalker invading their dreamscapes using this avatar."

Rallis conjured up a composite three dimensional image based on data gathered from the users' dreams. Unknown to all of its customers, Arcadia watched and recorded their every dream, fantasy, and nightmare. The avatar in question was most certainly not part of any micro-transaction package: it was a tall figure clad in a long brown robe without sleeves, exposing two mechanical arms. Scholar took note of its hands more than its head (which had some kind of Indonesian headdress): they had five fingers, like humans and Asari, but had another opposable thumb instead of a little finger.

Scholar sniffed. "Interesting, but I fail to see how this is important."

"I was getting to that, sir. Examination of the logs reveals that the unknown Dreamwalker has no IP address. We couldn't find his brainwave pattern in the system at all."

"Goto," rumbled Leng in his smoker's voice. "It's got to be her."

"I... do not think this is the work of a common dream hacker jacking into an Arcadia user using DC hardware," disagreed Rallis. "Whoever did this jumped from one User's dreamscape to another, bypassing any privacy protocol it could have encountered as if they were... nothing to him. This represents a huge security flaw AND risk to the Arcadia System."

"Have there been any more complaints recently?" asked Scholar.

"None so far, sir. Shall I shut down the system?"

"No. I'd much prefer if we find this dreamwalker and have him or her examined. Any clues as to its identity?"

"Well, there is one potential lead. My computer just finished compositing the image of another figure spotted alongside the aberrant dreamwalker."

"Show me," commanded Scholar.

On the right of the Dreamwalker appeared the unmistakable, longcoat-clad figure of Adam Jensen. Leng sneered at it, but Scholar clasped his hands and smiled like a child at a candy store.

"Adam Jensen!" Scholar breathed out. "Here, in Dosadi?"

"Ease it, Scholar," said Leng. "Could be the intruder chanced in on his fanclub."

"No, no. Look!" Scholar leaned in and grabbed the two holograms and overlaid them together. "Same height, same build... they even have the same facial structure! The intruder is Jensen, it has to be! Oh, this is magnificent..."

"I doubt Jensen would be a willing customer, you know? How did he get in?"

"That doesn't matter right now, right now what matters is that he is HERE. Oh, Mr. Rallis?"

"Yes sir?"

"Have you told anyone else about this?"

Rallis looked directly at Scholar and sighed, knowing where this was going. "No, sir. Only you."

"Excellent." Scholar activated his Omni-Sleeve, brought his hand to the back of Rallis's head, and activated the Eraser App. Cubic Voxels surged out of Rallis's head and into Scholar's palm.

Leng tilted his head. "...What the fuck?"

"Goto isn't the only one who can pull off that little trick," said Scholar. "I know Arcadia far better than she ever will, and that means I can remold people like clay in my hands." When Scholar was done, Rallis slumped back against his chair, unconscious. Scholar made a copy of the technician's findings before deleting them from his machine, then left, beckoning Leng to accompany him.

"You should have just killed him," said Leng as he walked side by side with Scholar towards the elevator.

"He's useful." Scholar replied tersely."Leng, I want every single piece of Manticore hardware you've got available looking for Jensen, and every single one of your contractors searching high and low for him. I want him alive and in one piece. This is where you make up for your fuck up at New York. This is where you make up for letting him escape you."

"Gee, Scholar, you're putting a lot of work on my plate there, right on top of Peak 15. Care to give me an incentive?"

"An incentive?" Scholar stopped. "Your... incentive, is me not cutting off your sister's supply of Neuropozyne. Your incentive, Leng, is me keeping your gene mods and implants maintained so that you don't start developing _tumors_. Your INCENTIVE," spat Scholar, his voice low and menacing, "is me not erasing your entire fucking life, Leng."

"Yeah..." Leng stared Scholar right in the eye, dreaming of taking a knife to the fat man's scalp. "I'm plenty motivated now." As Scholar summoned the elevator, he asked: "Why are you so interested in him? He's a relic."

"Yes, Leng," replied Scholar as the elevator doors opened and he entered it. "But that 'relic' entered Arcadia with neither hardware nor chemical assistance at all. That alone makes him more valuable than you'll ever be."

Leng said nothing as the elevator doors hissed shut.

_**~[h+]~**_

**Author's notes: Spellcheck by WarpObscura.**


	36. Chapter 32 the Dream Machine Part 4

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 32: The Dream Machine part 4**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Lieutenant Corvin is voiced by Rory McCann**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Normandy — Cargo Bay<strong>_

In the cargo bay of Normandy, Lieutenant Corvin had just finished talking to this Williams girl, discussing her future in the Alliance military. He leaned back against a large armor locker with his arms crossed, watching his two dozen men go through their training drills, making sure they were taking it seriously: he had insisted that they keep themselves in top form should the Normandy drop them in. He was, sadly, exempt from this, as he had just recently had his limbs reattached after his encounter with Jack's pet. The Normandy's doctor had insisted on him not exerting, despite the wounds being perfectly healed.

_Don't fuck with the sawbones, _he reminded himself.

That was when the captain of the ship, David Anderson, approached him.

"Who authorized those drills?"

"Piss off," said the gruff, tall Lieutenant after rolling his eyes.

Anderson could barely contain his outrage. "...Excuse me?"

"You wanted to start a polite, verbal dick-waving competition with me over who's in charge, a subtle back-and-forth in which you make clear who pissed on the lamppost first. You're a killer, I'm a killer: show some goddamned respect and tell me you want my men to stop directly."

"Alright then." Anderson leaned in, his glare full of menace. "Get those men to stop using MY cargo bay as a playground before I vent them out into space."

Corvin smiled, satisfied. "See? There, there's the look. Much better." With a wave of his hand, Corvin ordered his men to take an indefinite break. "We've got VR in those buckets they call helmets, anyways."

"So why bother with drills, then? You were just trying to piss everyone off?"

"No. Just trying to keep my men from going stir-crazy. There's no windows on this fucking tub, and it's tiny, and the goddamned elevator takes forever to go from one floor from another. Hmph. Anyways, is there anything else you want to ask of me, or can I get back to what I was doing?"

"You weren't doing anything."

"Not true. I was coming up with fantasizing about putting a bullet in Ramsus' brains." Corvin tapped his forehead, right in the center. "Right there."

"I thought you were here to extract him, not kill him."

Corvin chuckled. "Is that what Lawson told you? Heh, He lied. Ramsus went _rogue._"

That bit of information took Anderson completely by surprise. "What?! But we've put his name forward to become the next human Spectre!"

"I wouldn't put my money on that happening, ever, but my superiors think they can capture him and bring him back into the fold." he shook his head. "Hmph. They're going to fail."

"Bryce is a biotic accompanied by six men in power suits," said Anderson, referring to the heavily armed soldiers that the AIA agent had brought with him. Anderson had caught a glimpse of one of them without his helmet on, and to the captain's suprise, the man had turned out to be an albino. "I heard a few stories about Ramsus, but I don't think—

"— it's not good enough if they're going in for a capture. Bryce and the creeps following him are going to get chopped up, mangled, and posed, and when that happens..." Corvin stared longingly at his gun case: in it was a Widow modified with Phasic Ammunition, designed to pierce Shields and Barriers. "Me and these men will have to make sure that Ramsus can never harm anyone ever again."

"And if you fail?"

"Then _you'_ll have to bomb the site from orbit."

"Not much faith in Lawson, I see."

"None. He's a liar, and smiler, and against Ramsus that simply won't be good enough. If I had my way we wouldn't even bother trying to get Ramsus back... but I have a duty to the AIA, and until the moment Bryce inevitably fucks up I have to follow his commands. What about you? Do _you_ have a problem with Lawson?"

"I have a problem with every single one of you AIA spooks... But I don't have a choice. I'll do my duty."

"...hmph, none of us really have a choice, in the end."

Anderson left the AIA soldier, and mused on what he had just been told. If Ramsus had gone rogue, that meant the Council would have to pick from the other candidates... and that would spell disaster. The supernations of Earth were at each other's throats, waiting for something to break the stalemate. An agent granted nearly unlimited power by the Council would be an asset that might break the stalemate.

_Hein. Hein put us all in this situation when he brought Grey to the Citadel._

The intercom beeped, and the voice of the ship's helmsman could be heard: "Joker to Captain Anderson? Draven found something on the scopes."

"Well, what is it?"

"...I think you should see this for yourself, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Normandy — CIC, helm.<strong>_

"Sorry about calling you over, sir," said Joker. "But with Blacklight listening in, I figured it was best I didn't broadcast."

"Very wise, Joker," replied Anderson. He turned to Draven, who was sitting next to Joker in the sensor monitoring station. "Report, Draven."

"We detected an incoming vessel on IMREC, sir," she replied. "We barely caught it, but it's running cold: our sensors can't pick it up."

"A stealth ship? No, wait, don't tell me..."

"It's the Durendal, yes." She put an image up on her display, and a dark silhouette of the light cruiser was framed right in the middle of it.

"Hein..." Anderson muttered. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"The ship is headed towards Noveria at sublight, sir," continued Draven. "Its engines are off: she's running on inertia."

"Orders, sir?" asked Joker. "T'soni could still be in there..."

And it would be so easy to attack the Durendal, too: as a failed prototype, its firepower was negligible save for a few drones, which the Normandy's GARDIAN system could easily dispatch. Then again, this _was_ Hein, and he had a bag of tricks bigger than the Citadel. "...No. Keep us in silent running. We're already on a mission, and I won't let Hein jeopardize it. Still, keep us as close to the Durendal as possible, and keep the optics on it. Report any change in the its behaviour."

"Aye, aye, sir," acknowledged the pilot and the sensor operator in unison.

As he left, Anderson told himself: "There's no telling what this madman is plotting at this very moment."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal — Hein's quarters<strong>_

It had taken much effort, and much sacrifice, but it was finished. Mad, they called him. Couldn't be done they said... but Hein had succeeded in restoring the ancient data storage device, and was now viewing its contents on the screen of his laptop, leaning back in his leather chair with his feet up on his desk

_"Do the splits!" screamed Finn._

_"Err... I can't — um, I can't do the splits," said the Skeleton, hesitantly._

_"DO THE SPLITS THOU MILK-LEVERED MAGGOT PIIIIIIIIIIIE!" screamed Finn from the top of his lungs, his Demon Blood Sword ready to cleave the undead abomination in two._

_"Okay! Okay!" The Skeleton sighed, visibly cowed. "Okay..." And then, after some hesitation, the Skeleton did indeed do the splits._

"Bwahahahahahahaha! Oooh, isn't it ever so sad that they don't make cartoons like that anymore...?" he asked aloud, to no one in particular. Hein wiped a single tear from his eye as he continued laughing boisterously at the old cartoon, and caught sight of his watch, at which point he got up: He had a meeting scheduled with Grey in about five minutes.

Preferring to conduct his business personally, Hein decided that it was time to put away the scratch built Blu-Ray player he had made for Shepard's seventh birthday, and put it back with the rest of the items he recovered from Mindoir... along with the postcard, laying next to the books detailing Project Paragon and Project Galahad. The disc player went in first, right next to a plush toy and a few books, and then the disc, and then the postcard... which he then immediately fished out.

Hein held it in his gaze with both hands, and stared at it for a couple of minutes, and realized how fragile it was. He would have to encase it in something, just in case.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal — Cargo bay<strong>_

"You should eat," said Aki, as she set a tray of food on Grey's workbench.

"It can wait. I'm in the middle of some modifications," said Grey, barely paying attention to the appetizing Illium-style seafood salad Lelia had prepared for him.

"And I thought I had it bad!" quipped Garrus as he put a plastic sheet over his project. "Seriously, though, you've been modifying weapons all day, and I haven't seen you take so much as a bathroom break."

"Grey," Aki patronized Grey, as if scolding a small child, "Do I need to make you suffer the humiliation of being spoon fed? Hm?"

"I'm almost finished!" complained the marine captain. "I just need to solder this capacitor, here, then..."

Aki picked up a spoonful of salad, and made whooshing, spaceship noises. "Oh no! The SSV Surf n' turf is coming in for an emergency landing!"

"Aki... I'm working."

"Open the landing bay!" she laughed, poking the side of Grey's mouth with the spoon. "Aaaaaaah..."

"Okay, okay!" Grey shut down his Wrist Halo, and took the spoonful of food away from Aki's grasp. "I can feed myself, for crying out loud..."

As the creamy bits of lobster and salad hit his tongue, Grey realized just how hungry he really was as the smooth peppercorn sauce made its way down his esophagus and lined his empty stomach. "Oh... oh wow. This is really, _really_ _good_... wait, those are Terran veggies. Is this from hydroponics?"

"Yep. We just got our first harvest yesterday. Speaking of which..." she called out to Garrus. "Oh mister Vakarian? I have something for you."

"Hm?" said the Turian as he put his tools back into storage. Aki threw a small sack at him, and he caught it effortlessly. He opened it, and the smell of fried _Pirum, _an easy to make treat from Palaven, hit his nostrils. "Ooh..."

Aki smiled. "I managed to get some of these to grow in hydroponics for the Quarians, but I'm told those are a favorite of yours?"

"Whoever told you is right! I have to uh, eat these in private: the juices of these things tend to make a mess. A delicious, syrupy mess." and with that, Garrus Vakarian excused himself and made his way to the elevator.

"So," said Grey after another mouthful of salad. "How come I wasn't told we had a harvest?"

"I did tell you, but I believe your reply was 'uh huh'." Aki's expression turned serious. "But really, Grey, what's going on? You've been slaving over every gun in the armory, and you're still eyeing that gun on the workbench."

"I... I don't know. Ever since Caleston I've had... thoughts buzzing inside my head, and they all concern weaponry: how to make them better, stronger, how to make the shots go faster and farther..."

"...Is it your conditioning?"

"No... at least, it feels like my conditioning is working with something else entirely... something alien."

"Oh... do you want me to have a look in the Dreamcatcher?"

"I... I'm not exactly keen on going back in that machine after what... after what you had to do to save me."

"...I know, and I'm sorry, but if you can't keep this under control... come see me, alright?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, okay." Grey sighed. "Speaking of brainwashing, how's Toombs doing?"

Aki flinched, feeling a bit offended. "...He's going to be alright. I'm putting his body through electrical muscle stimulation: he should be able to walk of his own power within—"

"That's not what I'm talking about. Did. You. Do. It?"

Aki crossed her arms. "Yes. I sought out the last seven years of his life and neutralized the corresponding brain cells' voltages. He won't remember a thing."

"...Good. That's good."

"What are you going to tell him when he wakes up?"

"Hein's helping me with that one. So far, we've come up with 'you were brain-dead for the past seven years, and DARPA was working on a way to bring you out of that coma. It worked'."

"I think you and the rest of Deep Eyes are going to need to work out some details. The last thing you want are holes in the story. If he even suspects..."

"I know... Oh, wait a minute, what time is it?"

"1300 hours, ship time. Why?"

"Damn! I have a meeting with Hein!"

Grey put the spoon back on the lunch tray, and made his way to the elevator. As it turned out, Hein was inside of it, apparently waiting for Grey in there.

"Going up?" asked Hein.

"Well, I—" stammered Grey, taken by surprise.

"Of course you are. Get in. Walk with me."

The doors to the elevator closed, and as it rose to the Med/Sci level of the ship, Hein handed Grey a datapad without looking at him. "As you asked, here's a list of potential recruits for the Deep Eyes."

Grey smiled, happy that Hein had taken his request to start replenishing the Deep Eyes' ranks seriously. His smile died, though, when he saw the four (yes, just four) names on the list.

"Darril Trammel, Billy Renges and... Phillip Chaeffer? Those three layabouts?!"

"Well, you know the saying, Grey." Hein smiled as the elevator doors opened and he stepped out. "Beggars can't be choosers."

Grey followed Hein out. "And Marcus Adar Tân ? He's... he's not even human!"

"Really? I figured he was just a very, very big man. Tsk tsk tsk! Honestly, Grey, you've been working quite well with aliens so far, and besides, he's legally a US citizen!"

"...None of these are Deep Eyes material! Well, maybe Tân is, but..."

"Grey, anyone that's Deep Eyes material now gets sent to the Wyverns or the Barghests. Trammel and his two friends are talented, experienced fighters and Wanzer pilots. The only keeping them away from those two elite outfits is their attitude... but you're a born leader, Grey. You'll make real soldiers out of them."

"It's not their skills I question, it's their lazy, mercenary ways."

"Well..." Hein typed his passcode to open the door to Special projects. "Lately, being a Deep Eye under DARPA has proven to be quite lucrative. They'll jump at the chance to join in! Of course, imagine their look when they find out they'll have to do actual work... not to mention some real fighting."

"...Okay, I admit, I do like that part."

"Good! I'll send a few emails and I'll arrange for them to wait for us at Arcturus station in about a week. Now... I have something to show you."

Hein led Grey to one of the smaller rooms of the Special Projects — the one called 'Materials Lab'. It was full of fabrication hardware, and the walls were lined with monitors and rows and rows of small, empty containment cells. Floating above a podium was the Prothean tablet recovered from Caleston, plugged in to several computer towers that emitted a cold mist due to the coolant circulating through their circuits. Just how overclocked were those diamond wafer processors, Grey wondered?

"Hey, what are those?" asked Grey, pointing at some exotic looking crystals in the containers on the wall.

"Promethean Forma," answered Hein. "Don't stare at them too long, you'll get headache."

"Forma?" asked Grey, rubbing his eyes. Did that cube just morph into a star, or was that his imagination?

"Basically, schematics. Anyways, I know you've been staring longingly at the 108, wondering what kind of carnage you could do with that thing. So..." Hein opened a large drawer, and inside was a hardsuit made of flexible polymers with gold metal parts at the neck and chest, with a pattern of square polymer plates around the thighs, hips, and shins. The golden helmet was a veritable bucket, with handles and red optics. A boxy rifle made of black carbon Grey had never seen before was stored alongside the armor, along with a HF knife and combat vest.

Grey took special note of the left gauntlet: it looked like a heavy-duty portable computer they gave soldiers back in the early 21st century.

"Say hello to the Demonica. This will be the new standard set of equipment for the Deep Eyes and — hopefully — all of America's ground forces. I've got three more suits like this queued up in the fabricator, so the rest of yout squad will get a chance to try it out."

"What can it do?"

"It can provide just as much physical strength amplification as the Corvo gear I assigned to Proudfoot with only half the material, and it is already more than a match for the Colossus line of hard-suits in terms of damage resistance."

Hein pulled out his pistol, and shot the suit point blank three times. The suit held, and Grey could swear the suit thickened at the parts where it was shot. Some kind of reactive armor system, he thought? Interesting.

"It is also capable of providing protection against all sorts of hostile environments, resistance to extreme temperatures, provides emergency medical care, encourages cell regeneration and..." Hein typed a few commands on his Omni-tool, and parts of the armor shifted like a programmable sculpture, making a sound not unlike a cicada as it did so, only low pitched. "...It is also capable of evolving and adjusting itself to the needs of the wearer as the... VI inside the suit learns more about him. Which brings me to the real special feature of this thing."

Hein leaned in closer to Grey, and whispered. "It's a _supercomputer_."

"...Excuse me?"

"Most combat Omni-Tools can only hold and two, maybe even three combat apps in their active memory. This thing can keep a dozen active apps at the ready, and hundreds of passive, performance enhancing apps... Of course, I've only got a couple right now, but I'll make more available later."

"That... sounds very impressive. Not sure I like the helmet, though, or the eye-catching plating."

"Ah, but the Demonica is quite compatible with both M.I.P.S. and N7 custom armor parts. And you can always cover the gold bits with digital camo paint."

Grey nodded. "And the gun?"

"This little beauty," said Hein as he picked the weapon up. "...is a combination of a light machine gun and..." he pressed the little red button at the bottom of the gun. Instantly, the barrel split open into two silvery prongs, at the center of which was a lens. It made a sound like a flash bulb being charged, and lightning crackled between the prongs. "...a high power electro-laser! Guaranteed to ruin the shields on a target in one shot!"

"And you want me to test that thing for bugs, right?" Grey sighed. Working with DARPA paid well because, quite frankly, using Hein's newfangled hardware was essentially gambling with one's life.

"Oh, I suspect you won't find any. Still, I would like you to put it on and put it through its paces in the cargo bay. Now—"

"Bridge to Hein,"_ Neil's voice echoed out from the intercom. _"We've got a potential situation."

"Report," said Hein, all business.

_"Well, IMREC was lucky enough to spot the SSV Normandy just twelve kilometers off our port side. Can you imagine the rotten luck?"_

"Have they spotted us?"

_"I don't know, but they're not making a move against us, so I assume not. Shall I go to yellow alert, sir? I'm thinking Anderson and the frog Spectre would like some payback..."_

"...That won't be necessary. Is there anything else?"

_"Nah— oh, whoa..."_

"What? What is it?"

_"I've got an European Union Carrier on the scopes, it just dropped out of FTL at about a hundred klicks to our starboard, sir... looks like... yeah, it's the VSE Acheron, alright."_

"The Acheron?" Grey couldn't quite believe his ears. "What are the French doing here?"

"I... have my theories," said Hein mysteriously. "Mister Flemming, I'll be right there." He turned to Grey. "Put on the suit, and don't worry: Burroughs, that is, the suit's VI, will ask you a few questions and walk you through the suit's tutorial program.

"Aye, aye, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal — CIC<strong>_

Aki looked at the holographic representation of the VSE Acheron generated by the central holographic pit. It was an older vessel, the European's answer to the _Victory-_class medium carriers fielded by the UNAS back in 2125, when the relations between the two nations were at an all-time low. Of course, the Acheron had been refitted several times throughout its life, and had quite the complement of fighters and dropships capable of making Wanzer drops. With a length of over six hundred meters, a beam of ninety, and a height of sixty, it was an imposing, yet sleek vessel.

"Any ideas what the Acheron is doing this far into the Traverse?" asked Aki. "I've never seen it operate beyond Sol..."

"You don't know?" asked Hein right back. "The Acheron is the current home vessel of Lieutenant Elsa Devereaux, human spectre candidate number six— or four, if you exclude the first two— and better known as_ 'l'ange sans ailes' _to her french compatriots.

"So?"

"Well, she's going up against some very tight competition, and she's going to need an edge, no?"

"You think she's going to get herself genetically augmented by Europa Genomics? But they're the primary supplier of gene mods to the Alliance. Shouldn't EG be backing this Ramsus?"

"... You're absolutely right, Dr. Ross. They _would_. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to contact our people on the surface. Mr. Flemming?"

"Yeah?" answered the pilot at the helm.

"Keep us between the Acheron and the Black. I don't want their IMREC to spot us, understood?"

"Aye aye, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[H+]: Brea? it's me.<em>

_Anon: Oh._

_Anon: You. _

_Anon: What do you want?_

_[H+]: The Acheron is in orbit, and Devereaux is no doubt going to land in Dosadi soon._

_Anon: I see._

_[H+]: I strongly suspect that she's going to let herself be treated by EG to enhance her reflexes and reduce her need for 'Drive'._

_Anon: I suspect as much as well. Drive is practically necessary to fly an Endymion super-fighter. Is she showing symptoms?_

_[H+]: After five years? Most likely. That's where you and your knowledge of biochemistry comes in. _

_Anon: Pardon?_

_[H+]: I'm uploading a formula that will fix Devereaux up and make her feel good as new, but you're going to have to put together the compounds yourself, of course. Then, you see to it that it is delivered to her by our knight in shining armor._

_Anon: I see. And how this is NOT a distraction from our primary goal?_

_[H+]: Well, they'll no doubt want to take her somewhere discreet on Dosadi, perhaps a highly secure EG facility, hm? All Jensen has to do is follow her there to deliver the cure, and..._

_Anon: and find intel with the location of Peak 15, perhaps. I still don't understand why we're curing her, though._

_[H+]: Come now, nothing will motivate our champion like curing an ailing woman from the ravages of years of drug abuse._

_Anon: No. A placebo would have done the trick. You're up to something._

_[H+]: Maybe :3_

_[H+]: See that? I made a smiley that looks like a cat._

_Anon: Well, my employer is telling me to go along with your plan. I'll contact J immediately._

_[H+]: :3_

_[H+]: :3_

_[H+]: :3_

_[H+]: :3_

_Anon disconnected_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lower Dosadi - Funicular platform 42<strong>_

_"Armitage?" _said Brea over the codec._ "There's been a change of pl—"_

_"Not now!" _Jensen screamed simultaneously through his subvocal comm and out loud as he pulled at the huge ZORG mech's armor plating at the base of its neck_. "Kind of busy here!" _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Lower Dosadi - Hideout - Three hours ago...<strong>_

As Kasumi took her shower (singing a terrible pop song all the while) Tali inspected the bundle of clothes she had dumped in the basket right next to the bathroom door. She was, apparently, intent on discarding them, as the distinctive look it gave her would have her spotted by every IMREC VI in Dosadi. Tali thought it was shamefully wasteful to simply throw good material away, and that she ought to try and recover the wiring in what was obviously a remodeled Quarian enviro-suit.

Much to her chagrin, the wiring was gone, and all that was salvageable from the suit was some polymer, as well as the metal from the buckles (of which there were perhaps too many, she thought). She reduced the stuff into Omni-Gel.

She checked on Kasumi: yep, still showering.

Tali decided to go and join Spooky in the makeshift electronics lab in the hideout, and help him sort out any issues with Kasumi's Omni-Sleeve: data storage corruptions, potential malware, and so on.

Tali quickly realized that, when it came to Omni-Tool apps, these 'Europeans' were way ahead of the curve, nearly matching the elegance, power, and complexity of Quarian apps from the days before the Geth uprising. The Falcon attack app, Firaga, Blizzaga, Thundaga... all of these were available right here in Dosadi, and each of them were far more powerful than Incinerate, Cryo Blast and Overload respectively.

She discreetly uploaded them to her own Omni-tool, intent on using them some time later, although she would have to make some modifications to use them properly. Spooky just looked at her, and shrugged. It wasn't his place to judge: he had copied a lot of games back in his younger days, and cut his teeth on programming by bypassing or outright breaking DRM processes.

Jensen and Smuggler came back with a few things for Kasumi: some new clothes, a make-up kit, and a new set of clothes. As if knowing that Jensen had come back, the robotic clone came out of the bathroom in a hurry, wrapped in a towel with her wet black wig clinging to her head. Kasumi was all over Adam, peeking into the bags he was carrying. She took stock of the items:

A reddish-brown wig done up in a french bob style, a red woman's sports tank top, a black sports bra, loose black nylon running pants (with white stripes patterned with a few red lozenges on the sides) with matching fingerless gloves, and white sneakers.

"Ooh... so, you like the sporty type, eh Basch?" she asked, more than a bit too flirtatiously for Tali's tastes.

"Basch?" asked Tali, wondering why the clone was calling him something vaguely vulgar in the Quarian tongue.

"Well, " replied Jensen, not quite paying attention to Tali at the moment, "There wasn't all that much in the bazaar when it came to practical women's clothes, and I figured you would do a lot of running, so..." he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, wondering if he had offended Kasumi's tastes in clothing. "Is it alright?"

"Oh, it's perfect!" she approached him got up on her toes, landed a kiss on his cheek, took the clothes, and after claiming some privacy in the upper floor, in no time at all she was fully clothed.

But the makeup wasn't done, and while Spooky, Smuggler and Jensen worked out a plan to get up to Middle Dosadi discreetly (if outright undetected), Goto put on her make-up. Tali found herself watch her paint her face with a variety of brushes, despite herself.

First came the layer of pale foundation, then the lip concealer... and then Goto applied to her now deathly pale lips a blend of peach-colored lip tint, red lipstick, and orange lip gloss. Tali thought that the clone was done, but no. Then the eyes needed work, apparently. The clone traced lines of smokey black and red-orange mascara, filled the outlines (along with the rims of her _eyelids_) with some kind of white cream, and stuck on bits of _hair_ on them, too! At first Tali had thought Goto had gotten crazy, that the AI construct had crossed a few values in her brain, but upon seeing the finished results, the effect was actually quite amazing, with Goto's eyes appearing a bit larger and more enticing.

_Just one of the things I'll never be able to do for myself,_ Tali thought.

Goto looked into the small mirror, checking her work, and with a satisfied smile, decided to interrupt the men's planning:

"Guys, as interesting sneaking in the Mosque with monks habit's sounds, I think I've got a much, much better idea."

"Oh?" asked Jensen a bit surprised. "I take it you've decided to take my offer?"

"Yep, figured it might be fun, and besides, I've got some business in Middle Dosadi to take care of, too."

"Alright then, what's the plan?"

"Well," said Goto as she put her Omni-Sleeve on, "first, we're going to have to get you all better shoes."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dosadi - Eastern Junkyard - bottom of the funicular shaft - two hours ago...<strong>_

"You must be joking," said Spooky out loud, staring at the 1300 meter funicular shaft that led up to Middle Dosadi. The group was facing the eastern wall of the arcology, and they had to walk a veritable maze of yet-to-be-recycled junk to get there: cars, shuttles, toys, consumer electronics. Everything that was unwanted by the world above was stacked up here in convenient cubes that had been crushed into shape by mass effect fields. A beat up Tendus Wanzer (a civilian model), equipped with a tow cable, was nearby, its cockpit open, waiting for a pilot. Tali had wanted to fix it, but without someone trained in its use, Adam advised against it.

"No joke," answered Goto with a smile. "They stopped using that shaft a year ago, and the bureaucrats never got around to fixing it. No security, no mechs, no sensors. All you have to do is climb the scaffolding around it, and if those chips you gave us work, we'll be as ghosts in Middle Dosadi."

"You've climbed that thing before?" asked Jensen.

"Yep. Seven times, and as you can see, I'm still here."

Spooky burned through his cigarette. "Look, I can still make the original plan work. All I need to do is seduce one of the nuns at the mosque, then—"

"Yeah, look, no offense, _Hank_," said Smuggler, "but I'm thinking with me being an Omar and Jake being a cyborg, it's more likely attempting to sneak into the mosque is going to get the lot of us shot by the Templars."

"That," said Tali, trying not to tremble, "is a long, long way to c-c-climb."

"Don't worry," said Adam, "I'll carry you on my back, just like last time."

"Really?" asked Tali, trying not to sound too eager. Then, she saw Goto doing warm ups and stretches, and a competitive streak in her quietly ignited.

"We won't have to climb far," said Goto. "See the huge platform some three hundred meters up? That's the elevator. I figure you two," she looked at Tali and Smuggler, "can work some of that technological wizardry and get it running again... just, uh, don't touch anything else but the linear drives, okay?"

"Is that right?" replied Tali. "...Okay then, I can manage to climb by myself."

"... Are you sure?" Jensen asked, worried. "Look, it'll be much safer for you if—"

"I said I can do it!" Tali snapped. "I've the climbing app she gave us loaded, I'll be fine!"

"Alright... alright, just..." Adam took out the Omni-Gel cartridge from his Omni-Tool and gave it to Tali. "Here, take my Omni-Gel, just in case. I won't need it."

"Are we ready to go?" asked Goto. "Hey, where's your Omni-Gel?"

"...Kaylee needs it more than I do. Look, maybe we should just take an aircar?"

"Every aircar is linked to the transit system. You'd be flagged and brought down within minutes of reaching the ceiling."

Adam sighed. "And we can't afford to be stopped at any checkpoints on our way up. This is the way to go."

"And the most fun. Hey, Basch? Or Jake, or whatever?"

"What?"

Kasumi smiled at Jensen for a while, giving him an appraising look, checking out his dark blue hoodie and matching sports pants. And then, just like that:

[Thé à la Menthe -La Caution- Instrumental]

"... Last one to the platform is a rotten egg!" And she darted off to the scaffold.

Adam sighed, and then went after her.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dosadi - The Scaffold - one hour and a half ago...<strong>_

Tali was doing well. The climbing omni-tool app was doing its job: it scanned for weaknesses in the steel scaffold (due to lack of maintenance, there were quite a few) and generated safety ropes and clamps to ensure that Tali did not fall to her death. Adam asked how she was doing every five minutes or so, and it felt good to know that he was worried about her. As for her plan to beat Goto at her game, well... that wasn't doing so well. Goto was a trained acrobat, and apparently a suicidal one at that. She and Jensen were leaping from beam to beam, walking on narrow pieces of metal in perfect balance. Occasionally they would drop down a solid emergency ladder to help Tali and Spooky climb faster. Smuggler was climbing slowly, but steadily and fearlessly, eschewing Goto's acrobatics.

"Watch down below!" shouted Goto, and instantly the ladder slammed itself down right next to Tali, startling her.

"Hey!"

"Sorry, Kaylee!" apologized Goto. "My bad!"

Tali kept looking up, and saw Jensen smile and laugh a little. as he got himself caught up in Goto's race. Tali lamented that she could not join him up there: she simply wasn't daring enough. Bring on an army of Geth, Tali would take them on with a shotgun... but climbing?

_Oh well, even if I'm not as fast, I won't lose face to that thing by being carried around like a child on Adam's back, _she thought.

Spooky, meanwhile, kept himself focused on climbing by chanting something about a man who could do whatever a spider could do, oddly enough, and when the chant ran out, he kept making a nah nah nah sound, then said 'batman', over and over again. Humans were so weird.

"Those two ninjas are such jerks, am I right?" laughed Spooky, disguising his fear as he used the more advanced features of the Climbing app with his Omni-Gun: a magnetic grapple launcher.

"I... I don't know what a ninja is," answered Tali.

"No? Well shit, remind me to show you some awesome vids when we're done here. My daughter? She would have loved this shit, though..."

"You have a daughter?"

"Yep. We went rock-climbing once upon a time, said she wanted to be a rock-climber. Being a teen, though, she quickly gave that up to become a super-model," he laughed. "But I got hooked to the sport."

"We're almost there!" shouted Goto. "Careful! There's some pretty powerful vents on the walls here. Stay away from them!... unless you can do _this_!"

Kasumi leapt in front of one of the vents, and the powerful blast of air pushed her towards a horizontal steel bar, which she grabbed, then swung herself up on a catwalk.

"Goddammit, Goto, no more stunts like that!" shouted Jensen. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

"Hey, nobody lives forever!" Goto laughed. "Might as well have fun."

"I'm serious! No more stupid tricks!"

Tali couldn't see Goto up there, but she imagined that she was pouting. "...fine," said the clone. The satisfaction that Tali felt at Goto being cowed was quickly dispelled by the awful feeling of gravity making its presence known. She could feel it clawing at her, angry that she was defying its will. It was irrational, of course, since she had defied gravity already by simply being aboard a ship... but this was different. This was fear. And when afraid, Tali came up with her own little litanies.

_Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't look down Don't_

And then, Tali looked down.

"Oh... oh no..." she whimpered. Each breath after the next became shorter and shorter, and her legs stopped moving, and that was fine, because now she didn't want to move at all.

"Sparky?" Moody called out to her. "You okay down there?"

"...no no no no what was I thinking?" she nestled herself where two steel beams met, and sat in a fetal position, her eyes shut. "I should have just stayed behind and waited for you all to come back why did I think I could do this why, why, why...?!"

"Hey!" shouted Spooky upwards. "Hey! Guys, Sparky's not doing too good!"

"What happened?!" shouted Jensen right back.

"I think she looked down! She ain't moving!"

"I'm coming down!"

_[Sdatcher Soundtrack - Farewell]_

With her eyes shut, Tali could barely feel the electromagnetic globe of Adam's Icarus system land and disperse near her, though it did tickle her feet a little. She knew it was him, but that didn't stop her from crying.

"Tali? I'm here, now. I'm here. It's going to be okay, I'm going to—"

She felt hands touch her shoulders, and she tried to slap them away. Out of fear or anger? She simply couldn't decide at that moment.

"Hey, shhh! It's okay, it's okay..." Adam soothed as he pulled Tali into a hug. "I'm here, now, I'm here."

"Why didn't you carry me?!" she cried. "It's not fair! I can't fly like you can! I can't follow you like THEY can! It's not fair...!" And she held him close, and tightened her grip around him, if only to keep herself from drowning in fear and terror, but that wasn't true: she just wanted him there, right here with her, not high above where she couldn't never, ever reach him. "...It's not fair..."

"I know, I'm sorry," said Adam a bit confused, "I should have done that from the beginning. I'm sorry. Tali? Tali, listen to me: Keep your eyes closed, and hold on to me tightly, I'm going to get you up the rest of the way, okay? It's just a little further."

"...Okay." she sniffled.

"Hey!" called out Drebin from above. "You guys are okay down there?"

"Yeah!" Jensen shouted back. "Go on without us, we'll catch up!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dosadi - Funicular platform 42 - One hour ago...<strong>_

Kasumi had helped Jensen by pulling Tali up on top of the elevator platform, and made sure she was okay. For her trouble, all she got was a glare from the Quarian girl.

"Yeah, I know that look..." Kasumi put her hands up and backed away. She had dealt with Quarians before, when they found out just how synthetic she was. She hoped this wouldn't end in bloodshed, like last time... "I'll just, um, let you catch your breath."

Adam hoisted himself up onto the platform, and saw that they weren't quite alone on the thing: there were hundreds of humanoid mechs heaped up in a dozen piles. They were of various different makes: _Armadyne, Panzerwerx, Hahne-Kedar,_ and many more.

"Remember, don't touch anything," warned Kasumi as she made her way to the edge of the elevator platform, intent on enjoying the view of the city. Smuggler and Spooky were hard at work at fixing the linear motors, so that they could be on their way. After ten minutes of rest, Tali gathered herself up, and decided to go help them, as she wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.

Adam joined Kasumi at the edge in admiring lower Dosadi, but found little of beauty. It was all shanty-towns, elevator towers, factories, waste recycling plants and food sludge vats. No parks, no trees... nothing frivolous about it.

"What the hell was that back there?" he finally asked. "You nearly got yourself killed."

"So?" she replied flatly, not bothering to look at him.

"_So?_ Do you have any idea what I risked to save you? Did I risk myself just so you could go off and get yourself killed for fun?"

Goto frowned, angrily."Hey! Lay off! You weren't exactly careful back there either!"

"Fair enough, but I've got safeties on just in case. You _don't._"

"...I don't owe you any apology for how I like to live, _Jensen._" At his barely repressed shock, she continued: "Yeah, that's right, I figured it out. I mean, the bio-cosmetics and the blond hair threw me off, but between the coat, and the Sarif Hermes legs and the voice and the attitude were some pretty good giveaways."

"So you know. Now what? What will you do once we're in Middle Dosadi? Leave? I can't imagine you'd like working with a cop."

"That's up to you, _officer._"

"...I think you should do whatever the hell you want."

"...Yeah, I think so too."

Adam walked away, but then a buzzing feeling came over the back of his head, and he remembered something Brea had told him.

_"Clones, like Lawson, are subject to abnormally expressed genes as they get older. This can result in organ failure, premature aging, cancer..."_

"...How long have you got?" asked Jensen.

Kasumi said nothing.

"Goto?"

She took a deep breath, a full lungful of recycled air, and sighed. "I don't know. My inception date was... ten years ago, I think. Sun-Mi clones have a shelf life of maybe four years. And yet, here I am."

"So you figure any day could be your last?"

"As you say. That's what the cyberbrain is for, you know. Backing up all that precious experience so that _he_ could put it in his next favorite slave."

"Who are you talking about?"

"...Some rich south-african cocksucker, that's who. I don't recall his name..." She put a hand on her belly. "All I know is that he took something precious from me, and... Never mind. It doesn't matter. None of this matters in the end."

The elevator lurched, and screeched, and started to move.

"Looks like we're on our way." she said, and that was that.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dosadi - Funicular platform 42 - ten minutes ago...<strong>_

After nearly an hour, the elevator had only just cleared the halfway point, and it looked like the group wouldn't be arriving in Middle Dosadi anytime soon.

"Jesus Motherfucking Christ Almighty am I bored," groaned Spooky as he sat on top of a detached metallic fist. "And climbing would have been faster, you know?"

Jensen, sitting between Tali and Kasumi against a leg, shook his head. "But more exhausting for you and Tali. You'd have never made it."

"Still, I could use some entertainment. Lunch had a whole library of games for me ready to play, but nooooo I needed all the room I could spare for my Tool apps." Spooky sighed. "I don't suppose you got movies inside your head? Maybe you can project them with your eyes?"

"It... doesn't work that way, Hank."

"Bummer."

"Why is there so much valuable junk on a broken elevator?" asked Tali, changing the subject. "It's such a waste."

"That's what every WTO arcology turns into, eventually," said Smuggler. "A monument to waste. Oh, sure, they're self-sufficient and one hundred percent efficient... at first. But greed is a powerful thing, and people always want more. It's why they're terraforming and developing all of Noveria, now. To have more."

Tali sighed, and got up. "I have to take a stroll, or else I feel like I'm going to go crazy..."

Adam nodded. "Sure. Just stay away from the edges, okay? Last I checked the WTO liked to skimp on work safety..."

"I'll be careful," she said, as walked out of sight.

"And don't touch anything!" warned Kasumi for the third time.

Tali ignored, already appraising the wealth of circuits boards, metal plates, and polymer actuators. She could never carry any of this herself, but perhaps she could get Neil to help her transport this to the Durendal, some time, or perhaps even leave a signal beacon for a Pilgrim. If he could make it here, he'd find this trove, and his pilgrimage would be over, and he could go back home that much sooner.

Deciding that was the best option, Tali produced a small signal beacon and decided to wire it to that mech's OVO cell, under that pile of other, smaller mechs...

Wait...

Was that a small Eezo core? What luck! If only she could pull it out—

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Dosadi - Funicular platform 42 - presently...<strong>_

_**[Remember Me OST - The Zorn]**_

Kasumi and Adam fell back when the leg they were leaning suddenly moved away, and Spooky fell on his back just as he lit his cigarette when the fist he was sitting on slipped away from under him. Drebin drew out his pistol and scanned for hostiles, and saw Tali running out from behind a pile of scrap. Said pile of scrap sat up, reattached its leg and arm thanks to its Mass Effect field generator, and rose to its full height, its digitigrade legs propping its body up at a height of four meters.

Its featureless head popped out of its torso, and the sensors spotted five intruders, all of them armed. The Zorg scanned their chips, and found that they were using an encryption that it could not make sense of. It decided that they were intruders to be destroyed and generated a hologram over its chest, a huge, screaming mouth, and generated a roaring, howling noise from its loudspeakers.

**"MY MASTERS DO NOT WANT YOU HERE."**

"Aw, crap! ZORG!" screamed Kasumi. "Kaylee! I told you not to TOUCH anything!"

"I didn't!" Tali protested. "It just switched itself on!"

"Nevermind that, shoot it!" commanded Adam.

The whole group unloaded their pistols at the machine, only for their rounds to barely scratch the tarnished, thick ceramic composite plates that covered its black, metallic frame.

**"YOU LEAVE ME NO CHOICE,"** it said, and leapt up in the air and landed in the middle of the group, its concussion wave generators mounted on its feet scattering everyone. The linear motors of the elevator groaned under the sudden strain.

"I'm going to hack it!" shouted Tali. The terror that had gripped Tali before was now gone, her training aboard the Flotilla having kicked in. It was a synthetic foe they were facing, and she was raised to kill synthetics.

"That's not gonna work!" warned Kasumi as she narrowly dodged getting stomped on.

Tali let loose a Sabotage attack anyways: the glob of Omni-Gel hit the ZORG right on the head, and it flash forged a micro-transmitter and a web of circuits that found their way into the machine's own electronics. Tali was shocked to see her Omni-Tool report 'PROTOCOL ERROR' in big red letters.

"I told you! It's a security mech! Wouldn't much use if you could just slap some Omni-Gel on it and hack it with a smart-phone!"

"I don't hear you coming up with any solutions, Goto!" Tali shot back.

"My solution is to run like hell!"

"Not an option, obviously!" quipped Drebin as he ducked under the ZORG's swipe.

"Well, how about this, then?!" Spooky loaded an incineration bolt in his Omni-Gun and loosed it at the mech, aiming for the black metal. Some of it melted into slag, and the rest of the group launched incineration attacks even as the ZORG fought like a gorilla and tried to smash them with its huge fists

**"YOUR ANTI-ARMOR TACTICS WILL NOT WORK. ACTIVATING TECH ARMOR."**

Golden plates appeared over the vulnerable parts of the ZORG, and while the incendiary bolts brought them down, they immediately came back.

"Oh, come on!" screamed Spooky in frustration, just before the ZORG threw an handful of engine blocks at him. One of them narrowly missed his head.

"Goto!" Smuggler vocalized through his speaker. "Where's the ZORG's maintenance jack?"

"It's in the nape, but it's armoured!" answered the thief.

"Jensen! Get that thing open! We'll cover you!"

"Can I shut it down from there?" asked Adam.

"No, but if you can Breach it it'll go into maintenance mode, and then we can rip out its guts!"

Without hesitation, Jensen Zero Shifted right behind the ZORG and climbed up on its back. He punched out the Tech plate covering the ZORG's nape, then grabbed the thick hatch covering the maintenance port with both hands and pulled.

"Come on, open, you son of a bitch..."

Just then, Jensen's AR reported a codec call, which, by reflex, he automatically accepted.

_"Armitage?" _said Brea over the codec._ "There's been a change of pl—"_

_"Not now!" _Jensen screamed simultaneously through his subvocal comm and out loud as he pulled at the huge ZORG mech's armor plating at the base of its neck_. "Kind of busy here!"_

_"Busy doing what?!"_

_"Fighting a ZORG security mech, that's what!" _said Adam, as the ZORG attempted to shake him off like an angry bull.

_"A ZORG?! Are you insane?! Run!"_

_"Not an option! I'll get back to you once I'm done with it. Later!"_

_"Jensen! Don't you dare cut me—" _Brea's sentence was cut off as Jensen shut down the connection.

"Come on, come _on!" _Jensen grit his teeth, and the hatch finally opened.

**"DETONATING TECH ARMOR."**

A pulse of yellow light hit everyone on the platform, scattering junk, debris, and bodies all over the platform, but Jensen had gotten the worst of it, and briefly lost consciousness and fell from the ZORG's back. The huge mech picked him up with its gigantic fist, and proceeded to try and crush him. Jensen, however, recovered enough of his sense to try and struggle against the crushing grip. Where it not for Hein's upgrades, Jensen would have died in seconds.

**"YOUR METAL IS STRONG, BUT YOUR FLESH IS WEAK."**

"Let him go!" Tali, the first to recover from the blast, fired an incineration bolt at the ZORG's elbow, and then another, and then another, until she was out of Omni-Gel. She reloaded her Wrist Halo with Jensen's cartridge, and fired again until finally the ZORG decided Adam was not the real threat, and decided to throw him off the edge of the elevator to his death.

"NOOOO!" Tali screamed in horror, but Spooky had come to, and immediately fired the Climbing app's grapple gun at Jensen, catching him just in time.

"I got h— WHOA!" The hacker was, of course, pulled forward by Jensen's momentum and fell on his face, and Jensen was promptly slammed to the ground, but they would both be fine.

The linear motors groaned again: they wouldn't take much more.

"The hatch..." Jensen groaned out. "It's open!"

Just as Tali was about to get attacked by the ZORG, Kasumi stepped in front of the mech, waving her arms and taunting it. The ZORG rose to her bait, and tried to crush her beneath his heel. She dove and rolled forward out of the way just in time, and climbed on its thigh, and held on to its chestplate. The ZORG tried to bash her away, only for her to somersault up onto its back. She raised her arm victoriously and brought it down on the port, and the Omni-Sleeve immediately got to work on Breaching the ZORG.

Kasumi laughed and whooped as the holographic voxels and Omni-Gel tendrils formed a conduit between her and the machine: the girl really liked to win, but then a look of horror came over her face. "Oh... oh no."

**"NOOO! DO NOT DO THIS!"**

The ZORG fell on its knees and its chest armor popped ajar, but lack of maintenance and the warped metal from the incineration attacks kept it from opening all the way. Adam and Drebin rushed the ZORG and forced open the chestplates with their bare hands, slowly exposing the Element Zero core.

"Guys, hurry up!" shouted Kasumi. "That thing's fighting me, I can't keep it like this much longer!"

Jensen and Drebin put their legs into it, and the chest plates popped open, exposing the core completely. The sudden opening caused Drebin and Jensen to fall away from the ZORG.

**"I AM NOT USELESS!" **The ZORG suddenly rose on its feet, knocking off Goto, and roared.** "INCREASING MASS THREEFOLD!"**

A wide area Mass Effect field, designed to pacify crowds, now covered the entirety of the elevator, forcing it to come to a complete stop. The elevator's linear motors groaned even more loudly this time, struggling to lift up all that mass. Adam and the rest of the group could barely move, let alone physically attack the ZORG's core. Adam did try to shoot it with his pistol, but the core held fast.

**"PLEASE... DON'T THROW ME AWAY!"**

It was no use, of course, as Tali knew. Even if the ZORG's power failed or the core was destroyed, the Mass Effect field would still linger long enough for the linear motors to break, and then everyone would plummet to their doom.

Thinking fast, she lined up her Omni-Tool at the Eezo core, loaded an Overload attack, and prayed that this would work.

It did.

The negatively charged Overload attack caused the mass of the entire elevator to be lightened by seventy-percent, and the elevator's speed rose accordingly, climbing faster and faster. Before the ZORG could do something about it, Tali unleashed a volley of incineration bolts into the ZORG's innards. It still wouldn't fall down.

**"I... -c-c-c-can still... se-serve..."**

"Argh!" Tali screamed in frustration. "Why won't you just DIE?!" Tali fired another incineration bolt, heedless of Kasumi and Jensen's shouts. She fired again and again, and still the ZORG stood, defiant to the end.

Then, Jensen tackled Tali down on the floor, and then the ZORG's head was splattered against the roof. Its legs collapsed under the sudden strain, and the ZORG's torso became sandwiched between both the the elevator platform and the huge double doors that should have opened for it.

Tali opened her eyes, and realized that they had all narrowly avoided being flattened between the speeding the elevator and Lower Dosadi's thick, metal roof.

Also, Jensen was on top of her.

"Everyone? Are you alright?" said Jensen out loud.

Kasumi, who had been lying down face first with her arms around her head, opened her eyes and looked up. "Whew. Well, that was bracing..."

Spooky got up on his feet, and hit his head on the ceiling. "Ow! Well, _I'm_ alive. I don't know about the rest of you."

"We should get back on the scaffolding," said Smuggler. "The Linear drives on the elevator aren't going to hold out much longer."

"Right, c'mon, Tali, get up." Jensen rose, and pulled Tali up, propping her on her two feet. She examined the ZORG, remembering that she heard a distinct splattering sound when its head hit the metal ceiling. A red liquid was dripping from the ZORG's neck, a sharp contrast to the grimy white of its armor. It looked a lot like blood.

"Oh... Keelah! Was that thing... was that thing a _cyborg_?" Tali's head tingled with horror: had she just... murdered someone?

"ZORGs use an animal brain as a central processor," said Drebin, and he made a sound that was a lot like a snort. "It's based on what scraps of Omar technology _Baptiste Robotique _got its hands on when the WTO looted Yekaterinburg."

Tali breathed a sigh of relief "Oh! Oh good... but, is that why I couldn't hack it?" asked Tali as Jensen helped her get on on the scaffolding. She reminded herself not to look down.

"Yeah..." said Kasumi as she jumped down from the platform and landed beside her on the scaffold. "I could feel it fighting me when I Breached it."

"...Let's not dwell on it and leave." said Adam.

"Gotcha. There's an emergency hatch over here, everyone, after that, it's just a short climb through the floof to Middle Dosadi."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The short climb through the 'floof' took, in fact, around 15 minutes as the group climbed 115 meters up various types of stairs and ladders. Kasumi, leading the way, reassured Jensen that, while they'd see some sewage pipes here and there, they wouldn't have to go inside the actual sewers this time around.<p>

"Just don't touch any pipes: it's either hot steam or cold shit and neither are particularly good for our healths. Think you can keep your hands to yourself, Kaylee?"

And that's when Tali shoved Kasumi.

"That was all your fault, you _bosh'tet_ _robot!_" she spat. The whole group stopped to stare at her.

"Hey!" shouted Adam.

"Uh oh. The claws are coming out..." quipped Spooky. Drebin merely nodded at him, crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching the dispute unfold.

Goto was glaring daggers at Tali. _"...Excuse me?"_

"We nearly died because of you!"

"Hey, I'm not the one with sticky fingers!"

"That's good, coming from a _thief!_"

Jensen attempted to calm them down. "Settle down, you two..."

"I _told_ you not to touch anything! Three times, too! And you didn't listen, you magpie!"

"I _didn't_ wake it up!"

_**"Lies," **_said the guttural, digital voice that intruded in Jensen's ear.**_ "The girl did indeed touch the ZORG, and triggered its self-repair mechanism."_**

_"You again," _replied Jensen sub-vocally. Adam had tried alternating his comms' encryption every ten minutes to keep eavesdroppers at bay, but they always seemed to find a way to force a conversation._ "I'll bite: Why would she lie about this?"_

_**"You should shut Goto's mouth. Zorah will never admit it putting your group at risk, least of all to a partially synthetic being like Goto... Or like YOU. Her people raised her to never, ever admit any fault when it concerns the Geth or synthetics. Quarian culture is built on self-victimization and revenge, and admitting their mistake would not only destroy that, but put the deaths of Eden Prime, and all who will die at the hands of the Geth, squarely on their shoulders."**_

_"The Quarians certainly didn't decide to follow a madman and start murdering people by the thousands. That's on _their_ shoulders."_

_**"Should the father not take responsibility for the sins of the son?"**_

_"...There comes a time when we all must owe up to our crimes."_

Jensen's attention snapped back to the argument: Spooky had tried to divert the focus of their ire elsewhere.

"Look, ladies, personally? I blame the one who set up our flight arrangements: We should have been in Middle Dosadi right from the beginning, but nooooo, we had to ride in a freakin' cargo crate and—"

"So what other trap have you got planned for us?" accused Tali, completely ignoring Spooky. "An army of GETH, maybe?"

"Oh, you can NOT be serious! What is wrong with you?! I nearly DIED stopping that thing from KILLING all of us because YOU touched it!"

"None of this is my fault!"

Adam sighed, and motioned Smuggler and Spooky to follow him as he continued on his way up.

"Hey!" shouted Tali. "Where are you going?!"

"I'm _walking away from you_. If you two want to stay here and bicker like children and get yourselves caught by the SSC, by all means, keep going. Or, you can shut up and keep going."

Kasumi and Tali were about to say something, but Adam interrupted them both, pointing an accusing finger at them.

"Before you even THINK about giving me any kind of sass or snark, do remember that I saved both your lives, and you're both now doing a magnificent job of making me regret it. Come on, guys, let's go."

Smuggler and Spooky followed Adam, and Tali pleaded with Spooky with her eyes. The man simply shrugged and put his hands up. Goto and Tali loathed one another now, but neither wanted to get left behind and leave with Jensen being angry with them. So they followed him.

_**"Well played," **_said the voice. **_"Though... neither of them will walk away from this any wiser."_**

_"Look," Adam vocalized, a bit frustrated and quite a bit annoyed. "What do you want from us?"_

_**"I want to see if you're what I need to break a... stalemate. So far, I am not impressed: You are neither a leader of men, nor do you have the charisma necessary to be one. Still, I have yet to see you fight on your own... perhaps you are a lone wolf, and these four fools are holding you back?"**_

Then, out of nowhere Hein's picture appeared on Adam's AR. _"Hellooooooooooo, Ad— hey, who's that eavesdropping?"_

_**"You... Who are you?"**_

_"NO DROPPING EAVES!"_ shouted Hein. _"BAD DOG! BAD!"_

_**"What are you— AAAAAARGH!"**_

_Hein grinned smugly. "Well, you won't be hearing from him for a while."_

_"Hein," said Adam. "I may never say those words again, so enjoy them while they last: It's good to hear from you. I don't suppose you can keep him from hijacking my comms again?"_

_"Aw, so you do love me after all!... but I'm amazed that hacker got through, there's no way he could have broken the encryption even with VI assistance... unless..."_

_"Unless what?"_

_"We're dealing with an AI. Oh, this is interesting."_

_"I'm being stalked by an AI? Wonderful... can this situation get any more complicated?"_

_"Well... enough about that. What's the news?"_

_"We're in the floof, on our way to Middle Dosadi. We had to take out a beat up ZORG mech on our way up."_

_"A ZORG?" Hein whistled. "Was it a mark II?"_

_"...I'm not sure, but it was probably an old model if it was lying in a pile of junk."_

_"Well, thank your lucky stars, then. The mark III is even tougher."_

_"I spoke to Goto. She doesn't quite understand why EG sent SSC and Manticore after her. She thinks it was because she had frequent dream trysts with a turian by the name of Lorik Qui'in, who had some dirty laundry on everyone in Dosadi.. But I gleaned some info from her head: She caught glimpses of Ramsus' dreams, and I think they want her dead because of it."_

_"Hm, no doubt because they're afraid they might lead someone to Peak 15..."_

_"Right. I decided to get Goto to work with us, but without a good idea of what you or Brea are willing to pay, well... I couldn't offer anything concrete, and she's on the fence."_

_"Money is no object... but do try to keep it reasonable, yes?"_

_"I... think she'd be more interested in some proper medical aid. She's a clone with a cyberbrain: I think she'd be more interested in a supply of neuropozyne and Soap."_

_"I can arrange that."_

_"Good. That ought to sweeten the pot."_

_"Is there anything else?"_

_"Not a thing. I haven't been able to find any more leads. Peak 15's location remains a mystery."_

_"Well, I've got some good news on that front."_

_Hein told Adam about the Acheron's arrival, and his theory that the Spectre candidate, Elsa Devereaux, was here to get a leg up on the competition by getting herself bio-augmented._

_"And discretion will be paramount for both EG and the European Union, of course."_

_"So, I track down this Devereaux, follow her to the EG facility, which will no doubt be very, very secretive, and look for any clues there."_

_"That's the gist of it, yeah."_

_"Dosadi is huge. How am I supposed to find her?"_

_"Oh, Brea has her ways." Hein smiled. "Have you found a place to stay at? It will take a while for things to get set up for your mission."_

_"We're not even in Middle Dosadi proper. Any ideas where we could stay?"_

_"Wasn't Brea supposed to make arrangements?"_

_"I get the feeling Brea intends for us to sleep on the street. She hasn't exactly been too concerned for our comfort on our way here, that's for sure."_

_"Is that so? Well, how about some payback, then?" Hein grinned._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Though they had to evade some SSC patrols that came to investigate the commotion (as, apparently, the elevator finally gave way and crashed loudly all the way back down to Lower Dosadi), the group had finally arrived in Middle Dosadi. Thus far, it didn't quite look any better than Lower Dosadi. In fact, it looked much worse. The streets were flooded, and the homes were shanties made out of miscellaneous junk, stacked on top of each other so densely no one could make out the sky. The only sight of the outside world was the eastern wall, made out of thick, transparent polymer tiles, each the size of a frigate, framed together with thick beams of titanium.<p>

There was a snowstorm outside, and Tali found herself feeling safe, knowing that one hundred centimeters of ultralight resistant material was standing between the harsh climate and her.

Kasumi, being very familiar with the area, took the lead. "I know a spot where we can get some black taxis," she said. "They're not connected to the Arcology's navigation system, and the drivers are good enough to drive around without it. Got some cold hard cash, though? Nuyen credsticks are no good to them."

"We've got some platinum," said Adam.

"Yeah, that'll do it."

Said Black Taxi drivers apparently liked to hang around an outdoors bar called The Wet Street, on account of being built onto an old metal bridge, over a small industrial canal. The patrons, Jensen found, were a lot happier than the folks living in the poorer, lower level of the Arcology. He figured that while they lived in shacks, their livelihoods were far better.

The taxis, aircar parodies of New York cabs painted yellow, were hovering nearby, waiting for passengers. Kasumi proved herself to be a competent haggler, and managed to secure the services of two cabs. Jensen gave them the sector and level (but not the address, just in case). Drebin and Spooky had volunteered to accompany Kasumi in the cab driven by an african, while Jensen and Tali would ride in the one driven by someone he had initially mistook for a green-skinned Drell, but most certainly wasn't, since his neck was covered in gills and he spoke heavily accented french.

The inside of the odd alien's cab was decorated with beads, its seats were covered with thick woven wool carpets with Rastafarian patterns (no doubt to cover the many, many holes in the fake leather), the windows were painted with flowers, and more than a few post cards of Earth locales (such as the New Eiffel Tower, the Ketchaoua Mosque, and the African Renaissance Monument) were plastered on the back of the front seats.

The ride was slow and quiet save for the algerian music the cabbie played, and to pass the time, Jensen decided to converse with the guy.

"Bonjour, je m'appelle, euh... Jacques."

"Ah, tiens, ça fera un autre!" laughed the cab driver, a happy glint in his eyes as he looked at Jensen in his rear-view mirror. "Moi, c'est Idrissa. Bonjour, bonjour!"

"Vous avez visité la Terre?" Jensen asked, tapping the front seats, calling attention to the post-cards."

"Ah! Moi, je suis né sur la Terre, monsieur! Sur la Terre! Pas la lune, pas Mars, et surement pas Kahje!"

Born on Earth? Adam looked at the alien again, and looked past the gills and smooth, oily skin, and found his facial features to look almost... african.

"Vous venez de l'Afrique?"

"Oui, oui! Ah, il faut toujour que j'explique au gens, parce que ils pensent qu'il faut venir d'une autre planete pour me ressembler. Mais non, mais non, que je leur dit! Il faut juste que mon grand papa et ma grand maman decident de ce fair changer leurs... euh, leur Jeanne?"

"Leurs gênes."

"Ah oui! Ah oui, c'est ca, leurs genes! Eh bien, l'un d'eux avait décidé qu'il voulait nager dans l'eau comme a poisson, et l'autre voulait avoir _l'air_ d'un poisson, et ils ont fait mon papa, et mon papa m'a fait, et tout d'un coup, Idrissa l'homme poisson est né!"

"Err, what are you two talking about?" asked Tali, her translation software not having caught a single thing. Adam went on to explain to her that the cabbie was, as it turned out, perfectly human. Apparently, his grand-parents had been modified with fish DNA for cosmetic or practical purposes, and as a result their children were mutated.

"...I think I saw a lot more humans like him in the marketplace when we were getting the hideout set up," said Tali, after pondering what Adam had just told her. "No two were ever alike, not like on the Citadel. I saw a man with snakeskin, and a large man with horns, a woman with cat eyes... They were from Earth?"

"Qu'est-ce qu'elle dit, la jolie Mademoiselle?" asked Idrissa.

Adam translated between the two, and Idrissa went on to explain why there were so many mutants in Dosadi: Yes, it was hard to get work on Earth if you looked like Idrissa, but that wasn't the only reason: being a mutant was difficult; random mutations could cause cancers or even new maladies, and only Europa Genomics had the know-how to deal with them. Most mutants worked in Lower Dosadi's Marina and in the fisheries. The prettier ones lived here in Middle Dosadi, where they worked as dancers or even secretaries.

"Vous n'avez jamais visité Dosadi, avant?" asked Idrissa.

Adam translated, and Tali replied: "Me and... my friend visited Port Hanshan, but we assumed we would be denied entry into Dosadi itself. You know how it is for us Quarians..."

Adam translated, and Idrissa laughed. "Oui, peut-être ailleurs, mais dans les arcologies de la WTO, ils se foutent complètement de ça! Je connais une dizaine de Quariens comme vous qui vivent comme des rois. Vous aurez du rentrer plus tôt! Les Quariens sont en demande, ici! Vous serez riche! Riche!"

That was food for Tali's thoughts. If true, she would have to visit Dosadi again once her contract with Hein was over.

"Attendez, attendez!" said Idrissa, with a big eager white smile across his face, "Je vais changer de route virtuelle. On va prendre une route scénique, vous allez adorer ça!"

[Remember Me OST - Hope]

Idrissa took the cab on a route that took it above the forest of buildings, past trees of holographic signs written in a variety of human languages — Mandarin granting Tali a perfect view of the entire level.

It took her breath away.

Middle Dosadi was an enclosed city, far more dense than Lower Dosadi, and also far larger and far more busy. One of the elevator towers, which went from the floor to the ceiling, was around 4 kilometers tall. The city`s buildings were an eclectic mix of old byzantine cathedrals, art-nouveau apartments, and post modern, skyscrapers lit up with holographics that simulated a blue sky.

At the center of the city was park that surrounded an artificial lake, above which floated a starfish shaped building with a ring of holograms hovering above it. Tali squinted, and could make out tiny little row boats that stayed close to the beaches of white sand.

In the blue fog above were clusters of buildings that seemed to hang in the air like clouds. Thousands and thousands of skycars flew in the air between them, like little fish in an aquarium, and amongst them were airships acting as holographic billboards. And to Jensen's pleasure, racing across magnetized roads were _cars_, actual cars, not the flying oven mitts that were ubiquitous across the galaxy. Hundreds of different combinations of sizes, colors, and makes of cars. The way it should be.

"C'est beau, hein?" asked Idrissa, smiling, his huge cheekbones swelling with mirth. He liked showing the newcomers just how great this place is.

"This place is... this place is amazing!" Tali breathed out. "I had heard humans liked to build cities on top of their cities, but I thought it was a joke!"

"There are even bigger Arcologies back on Earth," said Adam, trying to sound proud, but failing. "Neo-Seoul is twice as large, easy."

"I can see why the rest of the galaxy is worried about the rise of humans. You could easily outpace the Asari within a century!"

"... Behold all my works, ye mighty, and despair."

"...What?"

"Nothing... it's nothing." Adam turned to Idrissa. "On y est presque?"

"Presque! Presque! Just quinze minutes, monsieur Jacques! Quinze minutes!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brea closed the laptop, then formatted its hard drive. The plan was in motion. All she needed to do now was to go home and rest, and wait for Jensen to contact her... though judging by the fact that he wasn't answering his codec, she assumed that by tomorrow morning she would find one 'Jake Armitage' in the morgue. While that would be a shame, it would also mean that she would also have to leave Dosadi immediately.<p>

Brea wasn't quite sure how to feel about that. As far as Arcologies went, Dosadi was rather small, but it was shaping up to become a nexus of development in biotech and terraforming. There would be many dealings, secrets and scandals, and the Shadow Broker would do very well by letting her stay here and develop a spy network on Noveria. Managing the local SSC force was also a nice bonus: she _liked_ to organize things, liked to make systems more efficient.

Yes, she would like it here. Maybe Jensen dying or just being hunted by EG would not be such a good thing, either.

As she stepped onto the VI operated cab, Brea went through her plans in her head again, just to be sure she had covered all the bases. She had thoroughly examined the formula Hein had transmitted to her, and while she was confident none of its elements would be _too_ toxic to a normal human being, Devereaux's use of Drive might complicate things in unpredictable ways. Ostensibly, this medicine _could _completely revitalize someone from the ravages of Drive overuse, or it could cause him or her to melt into a puddle of ooze. If that were the case, Brea would be accessory to murdering a European military hero. Even if it was a cure, treating Devereaux's Drive complications would bring Europa Genomics billions in Nuyen, and the biotech corporation would not be very happy about having a high profile client being snatched away from them.

Brea decided it would be best to be as removed from this chemical with as many degrees of separation as possible. Thus, through several false identities, she contracted several lab technicians across Dosadi to put together the necessary compounds separately, then deliver them to another lab. Then, this lab would combine those, and finish the cure itself. A courier would deliver it to Jensen at a predetermined time and place, and Jensen would apply it discreetly on the Spectre candidate.

Hopefully, he'd get closer to Peak 15 along the way.

Said courier would be a man by the name of Damien Raffaeli, formerly of the SSC. Apparently, Jules Kai Leng, a Manticore contractor, had not appreciated Raffaeli's treatment of another Manticore employee, and had pulled some strings to get the man fired. Said strings were now monitored by Brea herself, and she had run a background check on the unemployed frenchman. Apparently, the man used to run with a gang of teenage drug runners in Lower Dosadi, and was very, very good at making runs on foot while evading cops. Raffaeli had, at a critical point in his life, decided to put his considerable skills and talents into a career in law enforcement, and became part of the SSC's Icarus division. His motivation? A sick mother, and a couple of hungry younger siblings.

And now, he would be in desperate need of money, and Brea would be certain to be very generous.

Brea stepped out of the cab, and approached a high-rise residential building. 'Donna Morgan', being an SSC lieutenant, was privy to some very, very good living quarters on the top floor. The elevator ride was unbearably long, but it was worth it to reach the two story-high loft apartment. It hadn't taken long for Brea to set it up just the way she liked it.

As she was just about to enter her apartment, however, she heard noises and voices coming from inside, and she drew her custom pistol before opening the door. Inside, Brea saw Smuggler and Tali'Zorah gutting her hoverbike and examining its entrails.

"Careful now, those Tokugawa bikes are worth a fortune," warned the Omar.

"I can see why," said the Quarian, fascinated, "there's lots of specialized parts I've never seen before..."

Brea cleared her throat, her gun pointed at the pair. "What the hell are you two doing here?"

"Guys! Guys!" shouted a woman from the second story. Brea turned around, and saw a red-headed sportswoman on the balcony holding two pairs of shoes in her hands, and wearing dozens of necklaces along with a manic smile on her face, like a child at a toy store. "You would NOT believe how many clothes she's got, and the shoes! Aisles and aisles of SHOES and — uh oh."

"Put those things back where they belong!" shouted Brea.

"Hey, what's going on?" said Spooky as he came out of the bathroom with only a towel protecting his modesty, held in place around his waist with his left hand. Brea whirled around and pointed her gun at him, and he instantly put his hands up in surrender.

"Well, there's not much I can work with here, folks," said Jensen as he came out of the kitchen, eating a protein bar. "Hello, _Morgan._"

"_...Armitage,_" Brea seethed. "What are you doing in MY apartment?"

And that was when Spooky's towel dropped to the floor.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: CYBERNETICS: WORLD TRADE ORGANIZATION : THE CHIP<strong>_

_The WTO Subdermal Multipass Transmitter, also known as The Chip, is a piece of identification granted to all citizens of a WTO Arcology, though employees of WTO corporations also receive one upon being hired. It is simultaneously an electronic passport, a wallet, and a smart-phone all rolled into one convenient package. Typically implanted in the wrist, the chip can alter pigmentation of the arm to create a sort of 2d user interface. Extremely difficult to forge, the chip is highly sought after for the social security it provides, and many governments on Earth are looking into making it their standard method of identification for citizens._

_Another version of the chip, known as the Krypto brain-chip, is being beta tested in the Dosadi Arcology on Noveria, allowing the user greater control over the Chip's features, as well as opening up new ones. Nearly fifty percent of the Dosadi Arcology's population (including non-humans) have a Chip in their brain in lieu of their skin, giving them access to the Arcadia dream system, a vast, multi-user network of Dream Catchers._

_Though anti-augmentation activists denounce the brain chip, thorough examinations of the implant by third parties have revealed that it cannot augment a human being, save perhaps by granting him the ability to dial a phone number with his mind and to better regulate his sleep cycle. As such, they are perfectly legal under any anti-augmentation law, and are predicted to be released on Earth in two years._

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: ROBOTICS: SECURITY: ZORG SERIES SECURITY MECH<strong>_

_Built and designed by the Baptiste corporation as a riot control mech, the ZORG is designed for not only intimidation and control (using a suite of holographic taunts to scare would-be criminals), but also to deal with Wanzer crime, a growing concern across Terran space. As such, all ZORG models feature thick composite armor and over-powered servo motors. It is also noted to be the first platform on which the early versions of Tech Armor were successfully field tested, as the ZORG's highly durable frame could easily withstand the stress of conflicting mass effect fields required to move around in one. The Tech Armor's infamous 'detonation bug' was turned into a feature, enhancing the Zorg's crowd control abilities as well enhancing its defense against sticky bombs, such as LAMs._

_The most interesting (and controversial) feature of the ZORG is its central processor, a cloned animal brain irrigated with a network of hair-fine super-conductive polymers that aids the ZORG's VI in processing audio-visual data. This was thought to be a violation of both the Citadel Accords and the Sudham-Wolcott Genetic Heritage Act concerning the creation of a new sapient species, as well as various anti-augmentation laws. Lawsuits leveled at Baptiste Robotics were deflected with the reasoning that the ZORGs were proven to be no more sapient than an animal, and human augmentation laws concern just that: humans. _

_ZORGs, thanks to their aggressiveness and ability to adapt to new circumstances, are highly sought after by the rich to keep their estates secure, as well as PMCs out in the Terminus to terrorize insurgents._

_The Mark IV is due to be released in Winter 2184, while the mark I is being phased out._

_[h+]_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: <strong>_I've had some complaints about the untranslated french in the fic, so here's the translated Idrissa conversation:

"Hello, my name is, uh ... Jacques."

"Ah, well, it'll be another one!" laughed the cab driver, a happy glint in his eyes as he looked at Jensen in his rear-view mirror. "Mine's Idrissa. Hello, hello!"

"You visited Earth?" Jensen asked, tapping the front seats, calling attention to to the post-cards.

"Ah! I was born on Earth, sir! On Earth! Not the Moon, not Mars, and most certainly not Kahje!"

Born on Earth? Adam looked at the alien again, past the gills and smooth, oily skin, and found his facial features to look almost ... african.

"You're from Africa?"

"Yes, yes! Oh, I always have to explain to people, because they think that someone must come from another planet to look like me. But no, no, I tell them! All that was needed was for my grandpa and my grandma to change their... uh, their Jeanne? "

"Their genes."

"Oh yes, Oh yes, that's it, their genes! Well, one of them decided he wanted to swim in the water like a fish, and the other wanted to look for a fish, and they made my dad, and my dad made me, and all of a sudden, Idrissa man fish is born! "

"Err, what are you two talking about?" asked Tali, her translation software not having caught a single thing. Adam went on to explain to her that the cabbie was, as it turned out, perfectly human. Apparently, his grand-parents had been modified with fish DNA for cosmetic or practical purposes, and as a result their children were mutated.

"...I think I saw a lot more humans like him in the marketplace when we were getting the hideout set up," said Tali, after pondering what Adam had just told her. "No two were ever alike, not like on the Citadel. I saw a man with snakeskin, and a large man with horns, a woman with cat eyes... They were from Earth?"

"What did the lovely young lady say?" Idrissa asked.

Adam translated between the two, and Idrissa went on to explain why there were so many mutants in Dosadi: Yes, it was hard to get work on Earth if you looked like Idrissa, but that wasn't the only reason: being a mutant was difficult; random mutations could cause cancers or even new maladies, and only Europa Genomics had the know-how to deal with them. Most mutants worked in Lower Dosadi's Marina and in the fisheries. The prettier ones lived here in Middle Dosadi, where they worked as dancers or even secretaries.

"You have never visited Dosadi before?" Idrissa asked.

Adam translated, and Tali replied: "Me and... my friend visited Port Hanshan, but we assumed we would be denied entry into Dosadi itself. You know how it is for us Quarians..."

Adam translated, and Idrissa laughed. "Yes, perhaps elsewhere, but in Arcologies of the WTO, they could not care less about that! I know a dozen Quarians like you that live like kings. You will have come home early! The Quarians are in demand here have yourself rich! Rich!"

That was food for Tali's thoughts. If true, she would have to visit Dosadi again once her contract with Hein was over.

"Wait, wait!" said Idrissa, with a big white smile across his eager face, "I'll change the virtual road. We'll take a scenic route, you will love it!"

Idrissa took the cab on a route that took it above the forest of buildings, past trees of holographic signs written in a variety of human languages — Mandarin granting Tali a perfect view of the entire level.

It took her breath away.

Middle Dosadi was an enclosed city, far more dense than Lower Dosadi, and also far larger and far more busy. One of the elevator towers, which went from the floor to the ceiling, was around 4 kilometers tall. The city`s buildings were an eclectic mix of old byzantine cathedrals, art-nouveau apartments, and post modern, skyscrapers lit up with holographics that simulated a blue sky.

At the center of the city was park that surrounded an artificial lake, above which floated a starfish shaped building with a ring of holograms hovering above it. Tali squinted, and could make out tiny little row boats that stayed close to the beaches of white sand.

In the blue fog above were clusters of buildings that seemed to hang in the air like clouds. Thousands and thousands of skycars flew in the air between them, like little fish in an aquarium, and amongst them were airships acting as holographic billboards. And to Jensen's pleasure, racing across magnetized roads were cars, actual cars, not the flying oven mitts that were ubiquitous across the galaxy. Hundreds of different combinations of sizes, colors, and makes of cars. The way it should be.

"This place is... this place is amazing!" Tali breathed out. "I had heard humans liked to build cities on top of their cities, but I thought it was a joke!"

"There are even bigger Arcologies back on Earth," said Adam, trying to sound proud, but failing. "Neo-Seoul is twice as large, easy."

"I can see why the rest of the galaxy is worried about the rise of humans. You could easily outpace the Asari within a century!"

"... Behold all my works, ye mighty, and despair."

"... What?"

"Nothing ... it's nothing." Adam turned to Idrissa. "Are we almost there?"

"Almost! Almost! Just fifteen minutes, Mr. Jacques! Fifteen minutes!"

_[h+]_


	37. Chapter 33 the Dream Machine Part 5

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 33: The Dream Machine part 5**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Lieutenant Elsa 'Angel' Devereaux is protrayed by Mélanie Laurent<em>

_Capitaine Thierry Segal is portrayed by Tchéky Karyo_

_Sub-Lieutenant Zead 'Paladin' Taggard is voiced by John Rhys-Davies_

_Ensign Joachim Dietrich 'El Cid' Zoller is portrayed by Daniel Brühl_

_Ensign Hermes 'Trismegistus' Smith is voiced by Noel Clarke_

_Doctor Yussuf Nazir is voiced by Alexander Siddig_

_Ken Ruger (who is finally making his appearance) is played by Jackie Earle Haley_

_Molly the Bouncer is voiced by Kristin Bauer_

_Alpha and Beta are played by Ryan and Andy from Campblood dot org._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>VSE Acheron — Wanzer bay<strong>_

A week ago, Ensign Joaquim Dietrich Zoller, a recent graduate from the Roland Programme, had received the news: he would be assigned to the Wanzer team aboard the _Acheron_: an old, but nevertheless storied and venerated star vessel. As Zoller heard it, it had foiled several Coalition plots to turn the current cold war into a blazing hot one. His friends had mocked him for not being assigned to a top-of-the-line ship like the _Aquitaine, _but Zoller was quite smugly happy to tell them that he was assigned as a marksman to the Silver Drakes.

The Silver Drakes! Even as he stood in front of what would be his new Wanzer, he could scarcely believe it. He was now part of a legendary unit, composed of the four best pilots the European Union had to offer... though he had yet to meet any of them, yet. For some reason, they had not seen fit to summon him for... well, _anything. _All he had done for the past few days was to report to the medical bay to see a British doctor by the name of Yussuf Nazir, to be tested for 'compatibility'. Compatibility with what, he was not told.

His exams over and with little else to do, Zoller decided to climb in the cockpit of the customized Stoßzahn Funf light-medium Wanzer, easily recognizable thanks to the prominent sensor fin on its head. It was a mostly stock machine, save for the two sturdier Whisk III arms. One of them carried a Ziege sniper cannon, while the other had a shield (an actual, physical piece of metal meant to block incoming fire) mounted on a secondary manipulator, leaving the hand free to steady the large weapon.

Next to the Stoßzahn, on its right, was a stock Liathach Heavy Wanzer, an armoured bruiser of a machine. It was equipped with two Egret missile launchers, a shield, and an impact rod. Next to it was a custom machine: A headless Rhino body with an engineering pack mounted on its back, two Tempest arms with integrated machine cannon arms, and a hover-type lower body.

To the Stoßzahn's right was a stock Zenith Gaul III, equipped with a shield, a Cemetery IX machine gun, a PAX-9 swarm micro-missile launcher, and a jetpack. This was Elsa Devereaux's machine, a Commander-type. Zoller was awed, as he had heard so much about the woman: many of the White Drakes' recent victories were attributed to her, and her aloof nature and unwillingness to make more media appearances had somehow made her such an alluring figure in his mind, an invincible angel of death. He had fantasized about fighting by her side ever since he joined the Roland Programme, and soon that dream would be a reality.

Zoller sank into the Stoßzahn's seat, and booted up the Wanzer's OS. Oddly enough, the controls were in Finnish... a language Zoller did not quite have a grasp of. He fiddled with the controls, trying to switch it to German or Spanish. He was making no progress until a bespectacled African man of medium height and build, clad in the blue uniform of the European space navy, climbed the Wanzer's maintenance ramp and peeked into the cockpit, standing in front of Zoller, who noticed that he had Ensign's pips on his collar.

Realizing that perhaps he should have asked permission to climb into the Wanzer, Zoller apologized and held out his hand. "Hallo! Ich bin Fähnrich Joaquim Zoller..."

"Sorry mate, Queen's English for me."

"Ah, yes, of course!" Zoller's german accent wasn't too thick, or so he hoped. "My name is—"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it: name's Hermes, Hermes Smith," he shook Zoller's hand. "Silver Drakes, Combat Engineer."

"It is good to finally meet one of you. I joined your unit several days ago, and I'm eager to serve as your marksman!"

Hermes said nothing, and Zoller wasn't sure if the man was angry or sad.

"...Have I said something wrong?"

"No, no... ah, bugger it all. It's finally happening, isn't it."

"I do not understand..."

"Look, did they tell you why you were coming here?"

"You lost your old marksman. Lieutenant Häyhä, I believe."

"That we did, and you're in his seat."

"Oh! oh, I shall leave it at once, I apologize!"

"Nah, nah, stay right where you are. We were going to have to calibrate the helmet to your brainwaves sooner or later. Might as well do it now."

As Hermes changed the Wanzer's settings, he explained that the Silver Drakes had been mourning the loss of Häyhä, who had been killed by, of all things, a focused stream of molten metal. What fired the beam? That was classified. The loss had been sudden, far too sudden and unexpected, and nobody was keen on meeting the new guy just yet.

"And for that," continued Hermes, "I have to apologize. Mind you, I don't speak for all of the Drakes, but there you go. Maybe we'll have a proper welcoming party some time later."

"That is not necessary," said Zoller somberly. "I would much prefer we celebrate me surviving my first sortie against an enemy."

Hermes smiled. Maybe this Zoller wouldn't be _too_ much of an insufferable shithead, like Zead expected. "Yeah, I think we can all get behind that. We'll give Saren and the Geth hell."

"Saren? The Geth? I do not understand..."

Hermes activated his Omni-Tool. "Yeah, let me show you this vid..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>VSE Acheron — Fighter Maintenance Deck<strong>_

"So, is that the new meat?" asked Sub-Lieutenant Zead with a somewhat forced smile. The large blonde middle-aged scotsman took the boy's measure with a glance, and so far he wasn't all that impressed. He reminded himself to give him a chance. After all, Häyhä did not look all that impressive himself, but the man knew how to shoot like nobody else.

_Ah, old friend, I shall miss you._

"That he is." said Hermes.

Zoller stood at attention, and saluted a superior officer. "Ensign Joaquim Zoller, reporting for duty, SIR!"

"Och! By my fine blonde beard... They sent us a baby _kraut. _Just bloody wonderful." Of course Zead had read the recruit's file: while born in Germany, Zoller's parents were in fact from Spain — Catalonia, to be precise. Zoller had lost his father at a very young age, and his mother remarried five years later to a German entrepreneur. A rich one, evidently, if he could afford to put his stepson through Tarsus Academy. Young Zoller had been groomed for greatness: he had the best gene-mods money could buy, the best education, and an ambition had been engraved into his psyche. And he was talented, too. Usually, one had to have at least several years of combat experience before being eligible to join the White Drakes, but Zoller's scores going through the Roland Programme had been exemplary.

In other words, Zoller was basically Elsa, only with dark hair. And equipped with a penis.

Zead sighed: Elsa had been a handful when she first joined, and he was not looking forward to smoothing this young pup's rough edges. "Well then, Hermes. Why did you bring the pup here? No, wait, don't say anything, let me guess. You're here for Häyhä's bird."

"That we are," replied Hermes. "You know we're going to have to acclimate the kid's brains to the control system, otherwise..."

"I know, I know... At ease, ensign Zoller. Let's introduce you to your dance partner in the night sky..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A flying Endymion, to the casual observer, looked like a fusion of a hawk, a wasp, and a coleoptera in flight, its thrusters appearing like sleek metal elytrons protecting wings of light. Its other, less noticeable feature was a cockpit that looked, for all intents and purposes, like a Wanzer's head, complete with intimidating, glaring optics.<p>

As Zoller caressed the smooth diamond-silver hull of the fighter, the young pilot felt like he was touching a relic of the past, which was absurd, since this particular craft had been rolled out of the factory ten years ago... but Germany had quite the history with the Endymion series, one that Zoller deeply respected.

For it was Berlin that suffered the first ever kamikaze attack by the Lunarians' super-fighter, kick-starting the Luna War in 2082. A single Endymion fighter (nicknamed _Die_ _Einhänder_) had come all the way from the Selene colony, and had carved a path of destruction and death that had cost the Berlin _Polizei_ and Germany's _Bundeswehr _one hundred billion Euros in hardware, and had caused the death of over ten thousand pilots and twice as many civilians due to it constantly firing its weapons at... well, _everything that moved._

The primary reason _Der _ _Einhänder _had been so brutally effective was that it was effectively a combination of a space-superiority fighter and a guerilla. At the time, Germany was using a universal plug system for the weapons of its heavy vehicles, better known as Gunpods. The _Einhänder _exploited this with its single manipulator, seizing the Gunpods of its enemies upon destroying them, and discarding them when they were no longer of use.

As tactically versatile as it was, the Endymion had one major flaw: it was poorly armored. A single lucky shot from a police gunship had brought the terrorist craft low, ending a massacre that could have gone on to kill millions of people.

Across the world, the emerging supernations had suffered similar attacks, and shortly afterwards, Luna demanded the complete surrender of every nation on Earth. Their armies were to be disbanded and their governments dissolved, and complete obedience was to be given to the Council of Selene.

Earth did not surrender. All Luna had managed to do was wake a giant, and galvanize the entire world into a new space race.

Long story short, Luna lost the ensuing war. The spoils? Lunarian aerospace expertise, shared with both the OCU and the UNAS, which eventually led to the colonization of Mars, and, almost a century later, the discovery of the Mars beacon.

The Europeans, however, had played a bit of a trick on the other two super-nations: they had kept the schematics for the original Endymion for themselves, and over the past nine decades had improved upon the design, giving the Union a significant advantage in space combat. While the Gunpod system was no longer in widespread use, the EU's space navy still used it, preserving the Einhander's tactical malleability.

German engineers had designed the FRS series twenty years ago, using the latest in Mass Effect technology to improve its maneuverability and survivability against point defense systems. Its shields, like all modern fighters, could create an electromagnetic lensing effect that distorted the deadly beam of a GARDIAN laser. Even the plating had been improved: the silvery sheen was not decorative; upon being hit by a laser, the hull reflected and scattered the light, causing a bright flash that threw off a GARDIAN's IMREC completely.

Despite these upgrades, however, the Endymion was starting to show its age, and would soon be phased out in favor of the newer Astraea FGA mk I. The newer craft could handle two Gunpods, and could tear out any weapon system from any craft — tanks, gunships fighters— and use Omni-Gel conduits to integrate with it.

"It's beautiful," said Zoller. "When will I fly it?"

"Sooner than you think," said Hermes. "Let's get the controls calibrated to your brainwaves."

For Zoller, the process required him to simply put on a helmet and wait. For Hermes, it was a bit of a complicated nightmare. The calibrations required his full attention: One mistake, and Zoller would pay for it dearly.

Zead, however, was available to chat. "Is it true?" asked Zoller.

"What is, laddie?"

"That Lieutenant Devereaux is going to be a Spectre?" Zoller could barely contain his excitement.

Zead motioned the young pilot to settle down. "She's a candidate, boy. A _candidate_. Nothing is certain."

"_Wunderbar! _There is no one more deserving! The Council would be blind to reject her!"

"She still has to go up against Frost and Kim, and then ye've got Commodore Yang."

"Bah! Yang is a coward that hides behind his soldiers. He is not a true hero!"

"Aye, I agree. Yang is a chicken-necked, lanky little communist bureaucrat... but he's a smart bastard, and he's earned those pips on his collar, mark me words. Elsa will be needing an edge against him..."

"An edge?"

"...Damn, I've already said too much. We'll give ye more details once your security clearance goes up... until then, mum's the word, as Shakespeare once said. Is that understood?"

"I believe the phrase was: 'Seal up your lips and give no words but mum', sir."

Zead glared at him.

"... I mean, understood, sir." Zoller shifted uncontrollably in his cockpit seat. "Will I get to meet Lieutenant Devereaux soon? I haven't seen her anywhere on the ship."

Zead's face was crestfallen. "...Soon, laddie, very soon." But the truth was that Zead had no idea.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>VSE Acheron — Briefing Room<strong>_

Not ten minutes after the calibration was done, the White Drakes, along with the 95th Star Tigers, had been summoned for a briefing.

Elsa Devereaux, of course, was not here, and after seven days of being ignored by her Zoller was starting to get a little frustrated. Eventually, a man stood behind the podium, and Zoller was surprised to see that it was the captain, which was unusual. It was the task of the Naval Flight Officer to give the briefing, not the captain's.

_"Messieurs, prenez vos places,"_ said the Captain. Thierry Segal, Master and Commander of the _Acheron_, was a scruffy Frenchmen in his mid-sixties. He had served on the _Acheron_ for most of his career, starting as its Executive Officer during the retaking of Shanxi. After that one battle with aliens, he had acted almost exclusively against his own kind. The Coalition had yet to declare full-scale war against Europe, but it was coming, and it had been his job to foil their plans to start it at an advantage.

That was until recently, when Command had the bright idea to try and show up the Alliance and the Council by attempting to apprehend Saren Arterius with just the one ship. That had proven disastrous, and they had lost a good man trying to do it. And they were going to lose a good woman that had pushed herself too hard trying to save him.

"Today we welcome a new addition to the White Drakes," continued the captain. "Ensign Joaquim Zoller will be assuming Frederick Häyhä's role as their Marksman. I expect you all to treat him as you once treated Häyhä: like a brother. Now, with that out of the way, here is the mission..."

Captain Segal began his holographic presentation, which began with a bluish white sphere that represented Noveria, the planet the _Acheron_ was currently orbiting.

"The primary objective for the White Drakes will be very simple. Alpha Wing, consisting of Taggart and Zoller, will escort a shuttle containing two VIPs launching from the _Acheron_ to Nav One: the Dosadi Arcology on the surface of Noveria. The Star Tiger's wings from alpha to gamma will patrol the area and ensure that nobody approaches the shuttle. Now, before you start complaining..."

The hologram shifted to become a torus-shaped space station, surrounded by strange, insect like vessels. "Freeport S-9 was destroyed not four days ago by the Geth. Considering how close the station was to Noveria, I want everyone of you to be on full alert. After our last encounter with the robots, Saren may be looking for some payback. Of a more immediate concern..."

The hologram shifted to become two ships of similar design. One was larger and more angular, while the other was smaller and curvier.

"The USSV Durendal and the SSV Normandy were spotted by our IMREC telescopes in orbit around Noveria. The Durendal has communicated to us that they are here on classified DARPA business. On the other hand, the Normandy has not answered our hails and its stealth systems are engaged. Because of this, we suspect that the ship is currently under AIA control."

Everyone started muttering curses at this bit of news. The AIA was bad news. Everyone knew that, even Zoller.

"Child murdering _bastards,_" spat Taggart, not shy about voicing his opinion on them. He was all too familiar with their agents. "I say we fire a Helios torpedo and vaporize the lot of them. Nobody will know!"

Segal glared at Taggart. "I would know. And since we have no idea what either ship is really up to, standing orders are to observe and only fire upon them in self-defense. Is that clear?"

The assembled pilot gave their 'aye-ayes', and Segal continued. "One last thing: White Drake Alpha, upon successfully escorting the shuttle, will proceed to Nav Two and await further objectives from Ensign Hermes. That is all. Are there any questions?"

Zoller raised his hand.

"Zoller?"

"Who will be the VIPs onboard the shuttle, and what will be his business on Noveria?"

"...Me and the ship's doctor, and for confidential reasons. Any other questions?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Endymion's open cockpit, Zoller waited while the techs made sure that his G-suit — a cumbersome garment made of thick polymers and red metal plates not unlike a twentieth century diving suit — was secured tightly. Doctor Nazir was there as well, making sure the suit's blood oxygenation system was in order. The bearded forty-year old Arab Englishman, satisfied that Zoller would be in little risk of losing consciousness making high-G turns, fit a small cylinder in an induction port.<p>

"This, my young friend, is one hundred milliliters of Drive, an artificial nootropic reuptake inhibitor designed specifically for Endymion pilots to keep up with drones. A single milliliter can increase concentration, reflexes and perception of time by a factor of two. Five milliliters can increase them ten-fold. Of course, you are only to use it in times of emergency. Recreational use of Drive is punishable by several days in the brig."

Zoller shifted uncontrollably in his suit. The drug itself sounded amazing, but... "There are side effects, aren't there?"

Nazir nodded. "Not at first, and provided you use it sparingly, you may never develop a physical addiction. If you do..." Nazir pushed his glasses back into place with a finger. "...We'll have to cut you off, and that would cause all kinds of unpleasantness such as severe anxiety, anemia, sleep disorders, hallucinations, and erectile dysfunction."

The ensign gulped. "What... would happen if I were to overdose?"

"Well, have you ever taken a mycotoxin? You know, for fun?"

"Of course not! I would never be able to interface with a military Wanzer or an Endymion otherwise!"

"Of course not, well, overdosing on Drive is much, much worse. After the initial high and besides the subtle permanent nerve damage, you would immediately suffer from tachycardia and arrhythmia. If you survive that, psychosis would follow, and then homicidal rage, then a coma. If, by some miracle, you avoid becoming comatose, well, your pupils will remain dilated for days and... oh you get the idea, don't you?"

"Yes, sir. No taking the whole bottle."

"Oh, you can't. The suit's designed to manage your Drive intake. You are allowed one milliliter every two minutes, and one ten milliliter dose every half hour. Overriding the system is... well, impossible."

"...Then, then why did you tell me all those horrible things?!"

Nazir laughed, tapped him on the shoulder and let the techs encase Zoller's head in the interface helmet that would allow the young man to fly the Endymion.

The doctor made his way to the shuttle and entered it. Inside the cabin sat an athletic young french woman with short, straw like blonde hair, wearing a civilian attire composed of a plain skintight jumpsuit, a black coat, and sunglasses. She lit a cigarette, breathed in the smoke, and exhaled. Then she extinguished the cigarette in a metal tube, re-lit it, and took another lungful of smoke.

Then she extinguished the cigarette in the tube again, struggled to stop herself from lighting it again, failed, and resumed her ritual. She had been doing this for hours.

Nazir scanned her, checking her heartbeat. 162 per minute, a quick but steady rhythm. At least the stabilizer he gave her was still working. "And how are we doing today, Lieutenant Devereaux?"

"Allez vous faire _foutre_, docteur," she spat, then immediately regretted saying that. She pinched the bridge of her nose, frustrated, and took a deep breath of secondhand smoke. "_Merde!_ I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"That's quite alright, my dear." At any other time, perhaps Nazir would have been angry with her, but considering everything that had happened to her in the past few days, he decided to be patient with her instead. "I've met the new pilot. He's eager to meet you, so I'm told."

"Well, I don't want to meet him. It didn't take them long to replace Frederick, did it?"

"That's hardly his fault, you know."

"I don't care. I'm still mad."

Nazir nodded. Frederick and Elsa had been close. Not lovers, but close. From what Yussuf had gathered, Elsa had never been really close to her actual parents, and despite having access to the best education money could buy, had been quite the delinquent in her teenage years, and had kept that terrible attitude throughout the Roland Programme and beyond. Her bond with Frederick, a surrogate father of sorts, had tempered her into a fine soldier, and a hero.

...

_"You could have died!" chastized the doctor._

_"Is there anything you would not do for those you love?" she groaned weakly, the IV pumping her full of medicine._

_..._

Captain Segal entered the cabin, put his business suitcase in a compartment under his seat, and quipped: "This is a no-smoking flight, _mademoiselle._"

Elsa replied by giving him the finger without so much as looking at him, as she simply wasn't in the mood for jokes. She _needed_ to smoke. It kept her sane.

Any other captain would have thrown her in the brig, Drive overdose or no. But while Frederick had been like a father to Elsa, Thierry had been more like a fun uncle to her, and she had been like a favored niece to him. The captain took his seat, and fastened his harness. "We will be launching shortly alongside the Endymions, just as soon as the Star Tigers launch in the _Rafales. _This won't take long, I promise."

"Bof... we could airdrop right on top of Dosadi. It won't matter: I'll die an old woman before I'm done with their paperwork."

"Don't worry, I have enough with us to 'grease the gears' as our English-speaking friends like to say."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was now morning in Dosadi, and it was almost time for Donna Morgan (better known as Aya Brea) to go to work. She had woken up at 5 AM (local time), before anyone else in the apartment was awake. The showering and small breakfast had taken no time at all, but the preparation of her make-up, her hair, and her clothes had taken close to two hours. The hair had taken the longest: she had been in the mood to weave in a string of pearls within her braided plait, a style that took painstaking patience to execute without breaking the string. By the time she was finished and had put her uniform on, Adam had stirred awake, and had begun his own morning routine, which had lasted about half an hour.<p>

"I just received a call," she told him as he started making breakfast for Kasumi and Spooky."An EU shuttle escorted by two Endymion super-fighters just asked clearance for landing."

"I see. You think Devereaux's on board?"

"I know she is."

"Then I guess it's time for us to go."

"Wait."

She walked up to him and grabbed him by the chin, and inspected him like an old piece of art, yet to be appraised.

"Err..." Jensen didn't quite know how to react. Her touch was brusque, yet delicate. "It's not that I'm not flattered, but..."

"Be quiet," she commanded.

The bio-cosmetics that made him appear like a blonde and tanned twenty-five years old version of himself had been her handiwork. She had spent hours making sure that Jensen's face wouldn't set off every IMREC-enabled security VI in Middle Dosadi's vast camera network. Hours, spent in the privacy of her quarters, extending and bleaching his hair, filling his gaunt cheeks, replacing that hexagonal skin indentation in favor of a proper scar, and removing those _stupid _clip-on glasses. She had lost sleep at the idea that Jensen had somehow ruined the organic layer that she had fabricated and shaped with his heroics.

But no, they were still holding, and had not been damaged. She picked at his beard, and ran her hand across his hair. Then, she buttoned up the top of his shirt. _There, perfect._

"You're not coming, not yet," she said.

"Why not?"

"Because I want you to be prepared. It's very likely I will have no intel on the facility that Devereaux will be taken to. Security is bound to be tight, and your support team should be prepared. I'll delay Devereaux in the meantime." she smiled. "I fully expect her to try and bribe me to bypass any paperwork, but that will only land her in jail. That should give you two hours, tops, before Scholar comes to her rescue."

"Assuming he even knows she's here."

"Oh, he knows. He's got spies everywhere, and I can name them all."

"So why don't you do something about them?"

"If I did, Scholar would make me Leng's plaything. I should go. Use the time wisely."

"I will, don't worry."

Aya put on her long jacket, grabbed her purse (with her custom pistol inside) and was about to step out of the loft when she stopped at her door's threshold. "And tell Goto and 'Hank' that my lingerie drawer is off limits. And that includes the rest of your zoo."

"And what about me?"

Brea said nothing as the door closed behind her, but Jensen thought he caught sight of a smirk, for a second, there.

"Huh. Didn't even say goodbye," Kasumi said out loud as she disengaged her Camouflage App and stepped out of the shadows. _"Rude."_

Her red wig looked disheveled, and her clothes looked slept in. "And I am soooo not interested in her underwear," she continued as she pulled out a pair of semi transparent black panties with multifaceted embroidery of black, opaque flowers and vines. "Those things look like they itch like a motherfucker! Seriously, who wears these things except strippers and prostitutes?"

"Put those back." Jensen ordered, sighing. "I'm making breakfast. You'll get bacon grease all over them."

"...I smell the making of an hilarious practical joke. It begins with bacon grease and ends with a swarm of dogs." Kasumi grinned like a cat.

"I think we all got enough shit from her, don't you think?"

Brea had indeed screamed at them for a variety of reasons. Kasumi, for picking her front door, Drebin, for disabling her traps (which, frighteningly, included a glass partition laced with a grid of explosive mono-filaments), and Tali and Spooky for cracking her desktop computer.

Jensen got the worst of it. Apparently, she had arranged for several locations where they could stay without arousing too much trouble, along with deliveries of equipment personalized to their skillsets. And Jensen had thrown that out of the window to indulge one of Hein's inappropriate attempts at humor.

But both Hein and Jensen knew what they were doing.

...

_"Brea thinks she can move you like a pawn," said Hein. "Thinks she can control her tiny little world from the comfort of a little castle full of luxury. You're going to remind her that's not how we do things here."_

_"What do you care how she does things, as long as she does them?" said Jensen, as he stepped out into the artificial atmosphere of Middle-Dosadi. "We _are_ fugitives and we _are_ going to arouse suspicion all around her."_

_"All the better. She'll panic a little, it'll keep her on her toes... and I don't like the way she's been treating her assets for the past three years. Her 'patron' has been grooming her to lead, but he also spoiled her rotten a bit. He thought sending her to Tarsus' Balamb Garden would soften her a bit, but all that's managed to do is turn her into an insufferable snob."_

_"You sound... disappointed in her," said Jensen, but that wasn't the right word, now that he thought about it. He looked more sad, if anything... but Hein was always a hard one to read even in real-life, nevermind through a video chat window._

_"I am disappointed in her **boss**. He should really know better." Hein sighed. "Take every opportunity to try and make her smile, Adam. Or, barring that, make her angry. She needs real human contact, not live chats and a chain of email correspondence."_

...

"I think she'd prefer butter in them," said Adam, cracking a faint smile, and pointing at the fridge. "You know, for the itching."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>With breakfast served, Jensen, Kasumi and Spooky made light conversation, and before Jensen could work his way towards more serious matters, the thief asked the two men a question.<p>

"So. Power Girl. Is she a clone or something?"

At their sudden shocked silence, Kasumi knew that she was right.

"Don't know what you're talking about," Jensen lied.

"...What he said," added Spooky.

"Guys, guys, it's okay, I mean, I can tell she's been modded, at the very least. For one thing her face is perfectly symmetrical: she tries to hide it by parting her bangs to the side, but it was pretty obvious once she tied it back to put on her makeup. And then she's got those puppies..." Kasumi grabbed her own bust, a comparatively humble C-cup. "I mean, they're definitely real, judging by the way they bounce, but they hold their perfect shape a little too well without a bra."

"Wait, how did you..." Jensen asked, but it dawned on him pretty quickly. "You spied on her."

"Well, yeah, duh!" She gave Jensen a bright smile. "I mean, whew!... I mean... wow! Wouldn't _you?_ I mean, you _can_ cloak and all."

"...No!" Adam protested.

Kasumi narrowed her eyes, her expression catlike and amused. "Uh huh."

"I would!" said Spooky. "But I'm more intrigued by the fact that you would, Kasumi."

"Well, Hank, if that is your real name..."

"It's not, but let's go with that for now."

"I... am plenty flexible when it comes to um... acrobatics."

Spooky gave her his best, winning smile.

Adam cleared his throat "Okay, guys? Enough about this for now."

"I could stand to hear a little more," Spooky quipped.

Adam dismissed him. "'Morgan' wants us to get some extra equipment to prepare for the mission."

"Right, the let's-stalk-a-french-girl one." Kasumi rolled her eyes. "_So_ stoked."

"Are you in?" asked Spooky.

"Oh yeah, sure. I've got a year's supply of Soap riding on this... and _Morgan_ wouldn't take no for an answer." She put a meaningful accent on the last part of the sentence. Morgan had been subtle, but she had implied that should Kasumi have refused she would have been found dead in a ditch somewhere. "Oh, and cash, and the chance at some interesting loot. I know for a fact that there are a few Salarians out there who would pay top nuyen for a sample of Europa Genomics tech."

"Well, that's good to know." Jensen nodded. "Got any ideas, either of you?"

Kasumi scratched the back of her head. "Well... You guys know about Ken Ruger?"

"Yeah," replied Jensen. "You called him at that nightclub. Something about his job going south?"

"Well, besides thievery I like to take the occasional Dream Run, nip some Stray Nightmares in the bud and let a whole bunch of Arcadia users get a peaceful night's sleep or a wet one without any disturbance. Ol' Ken likes to send other Dream Hackers like me to deal with them. It's good money and the word is never boring."

"Stray Nightmare?"

"I'll explain some other time. Anyhoo, Ken Ruger was always really paranoid about those Krypto chips, the ones that allow 24 hour access to the Arcadia Dream System? So he never got one installed. Instead, to log in, he uses a Dream Catcher bed."

"I've been in one of those... But those things aren't exactly portable, if you're thinking about us getting one."

"I know, I know, let me finish: when he gave me my last job, he said that he was going to get his hands on the brand new DC Mini — the thing fits in my pocket, no joke. With my Omni-Glove and implants, I can use that to jack into Arcadia by using someone as a proxy, and glean valuable info from people at the facility don't leave it conveniently stored in their datapads."

"...Hm, I dunno..."

"Trust me, it'll be well worth the time to get it."

"Assuming this Ruger is okay with parting with it."

Kasumi winced sheepishly. "I was kinda hoping you'd help with that. You know, make him give me the 'big intimidating guy' discount?"

"...I'll think about it." Jensen turned to Spooky. "Well, got any ideas?"

"Hm..." the hacker pondered. "I need to check in with Kaylee, first." He finished his last strip of bacon, and rubbed his hands on a sanitizer cloth. "She's looking over the hardware 'Morgan' got us."

"Alright, but do hurry up."

"Will do," Spooky took a couple of steps towards the computer room, but then stopped, remembering something. "Oh! 893 wanted me to tell you to meet him upstairs. Said something about bigger guns."

"I'll go see him, just as soon as I'm done with the dishes."

_**~[h+]~**_

Upstairs, near the bedroom, there was a small room Brea had, much to Jensen's surprise, turned into a small armoury. It wasn't the Durendal's weapons locker, but it still had a few weapons on the rack, and a very expensive looking Omni-Bench, at which Drebin seemed to be meditating. Three disassembled weapons were on it, their parts neatly organized.

"Smuggler?" asked Jensen as he crossed the doorway. "What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm trying to figure out how Brea built her gun."

"It looked pretty normal to me."

"You'd be wrong." Drebin picked up a shotgun's empty chassis and turned it in his hands. "Near as I can tell, she took a Scimitar's ammo shaver and capacitors, a Blizzard SMG's trigger assembly and cryogenic mod, and a Whitworth rifle's barrel and Tranq Ammo mod..." He showed Jensen a mold for a Talon Heavy Pistol "...then poured all that shit in there to create a three-shot burst scatter-pistol that fires freezing buckshot tranquilizer rounds at medium range. I am not even joking."

Adam whistled. "That's... wow."

"Yeah, exactly. Of course, she threw some perfectly serviceable guns in the bin as well. Wasteful. Just wasteful."

"Speaking of guns, 'Hank' tells me you wanted to see me about our firepower?"

"Yeah, Brea's little arsenal isn't too bad; it's all over-the-counter gear, perfect if you're dealing with crooks or maybe even SSC contractors, but after our encounter with the ZORG I'm thinking we should get our hands on some Black Market mech killers.

"You think the facility is protected by another ZORG?"

"Maybe, maybe not: Manticore is big on high-performance mechs... but it's the Armadyne Humanoids they've been buying lately that got me worried."

"Humanoids? Like the LOKI?"

"Nothing like that Hahne-Kedar garbage. For one thing, Armadyne GM-05 Copleys don't explode when you shoot them in the head. For another, their OVO cells and central processors are pretty small and safe behind an inch of armor. Their limbs are powered by redundant hydraulics, joint servomotors and strips of bucky gel. To take one down, you have to destroy just about everything, and I do mean _everything_."

"Otherwise?"

"Otherwise this." Drebin brought up a holo-vid on his Omni-Tool, a live news broadcast detailing the attack of a gang of pirates on an Armadyne VIP on Caleston and his two Copley bodyguards, about a year ago. The two Mechs moved like Special Forces soldiers, but with mechanical precision and brutal efficiency. Then, one of the gangsters, a batarian, got in a lucky shot in that destroyed the mech's SMG, and the machine switched from efficient soldier to brutal gorilla. It leaped on the Batarian and tore him apart in a mist of red censor grids. The rest of the gang desperately tried to wreck it with their machine guns, but most of the bullets simply ricocheted off its armor.

A Krogan with a 300M shotgun managed to blow the rampaging Mech's legs off, and while the gun cooled itself down the legless mech crawled towards the huge lizard by clawing at the dusty ground. Meanwhile, the other mech executed a Mozambique drill on the Krogan, stunning it long enough for the crawling mech to—

"Oh, god." Adam looked away.

"Whoever programmed these things is a psycho," continued the Omar. "Copleys won't stop coming until you're dead, or they are."

"...Okay, then. What do you recommend?"

"Well, I had the foresight to call in a favor with one of my contacts here in Middle Dosadi. I ordered up something special for you. A P90 PDW customized to fire custom-tooled 5.7x28mm airburst rounds packed with tungsten micro-flechettes. Shooting someone with that thing at any range is tantamount to firing an armor-piercing shotgun at point blank range. It'll shred those mechs completely."

Jensen got the feeling that Drebin was trying to sell him on the idea, and wasn't all that convinced. "Couldn't a regular SMG do the trick if you loaded it with a tungsten ammo block?"

Drebin shook his head. "Hmmm... you might be able to do quite a bit of damage to one before your gun overheats. Armadyne mechs are the primary reason thermal clips are becoming a popular gun cooling alternative to heat sinks. The way I see it, if you're going to use limited ammo anyways, might as well fire some really, really powerful bullets instead of BBs."

"Okay... so what do you need from me?"

"Well, thing is, my contact went silent a while back."

"Got caught by the cops, you think?"

"According to 'Morgan'? Nope. I'm thinking it was Manticore. I'd like us to head for his hideout, sneak in, find the goods, and get out before anyone is the wiser."

"I need to consider my other options, first."

"Whatever you need to do, Jensen, but do hurry up. This is a 'while supplies last' kind of deal."

"Right, but in the meantime, couldn't you cobble something together strong enough to take out a mech?"

"... I might, but it'll cost ya real money."

"Fine, fine. I'll think about it... hey, this contact of yours, is he another Omar?"

"Nah, Lunarian. You would think a skinny fella like him would be afraid of anything with recoil, but nope. Skinny man loooves the boom."

"Right. It's just that I heard that there was an Omar Collective here?"

"So did I, but before you ask, no, I don't know where they are." Drebin tapped the side of his head. "It's not like I'm advertising, you know?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"<em>Whoa, it's like Christmas morning," said Spooky.

Whatever Christmas was, Tali thought it must have been an awesome holiday. She had unpacked a great deal of computer hardware, and one of these had been a Gibson m50 computer tower. A machine the size of a fridge once assembled, it had enough processing power to do a dextro protein folding simulation in one day.

_I could send this back to the Flotilla right now_, she thought. _I could offer this up to Daro'Xen and she would accept me on the Moreh. But would father allow it? I have no idea. _

She inspected the other computers. A Yamaha GX1. A Synton Fenix. A TR-707 modem. A Serge Modular router. All human brands, and Tali looked these up on the Extra-Net to see if they were any good. According to the reviews, they were.

"And then, you find out you got a sock full of coal," said Spooky, sighing in almost exaggerated disappointment.

"...I don't know what that means."

"I mean this is all crap."

"I can't say that I agree with you on that one. The hardware is solid according to my scans, and the reviews are glowing for each of these machines."

"I know what the reviews say. Yeah, it's great if you're running ICE, but this is all defensive shit. No self-respecting hacker would use this." Spooky rubbed his eyes. "I wish Lunchbox was here. He could slap together a fantastic portable deck from all this stock machinery."

"Hm... I wonder what he's doing right now?"

"Heh, probably stalking Manah to see if she'll shed her skin envelope and reveal herself as a spawn of Cthulhu or something."

"...I have no idea what that is either."

"I know, and that's a damn shame. Remind me to send you some e-books." Spooky looked at the hardware, and tried to come up with another solution, but...

"I could try and put something together up to your specs..." suggested Tali, interrupting the momentum of Spooky's thoughts.

"I know you would try, sweetheart, and you've got the brains for the software, but have you worked with these machines before? Can you make me a proper rig from all this that will fit in a van in just under three hours?"

"Yes," she winced. "...in maybe four to five hours."

"Right, looks like I'll need Jensen's help after all."

"Help with what?" said Jensen right behind him.

"Gah!" Spooky had been, well, spooked. "Jesus Christ, I didn't even hear you!"

"...Yeah, sorry, force of habit. Anyways, what do you need my help with?"

"Well, we've got some fantastic kit here, but the problem is most of it won't fit in a small car."

"...And this is a problem, how?"

"Jensen, let me explain something: when it comes to hacking in a WTO Arcology, if you don't stay on the move, you get _fucked _by the bloodhounds_. _If we don't want Manticore to come barging through this door, we'll have to keep switching through wireless nodes and that means staying on the move."

"Huh. So that's why your HQ was in a semi."

"Damn straight, that's why. But lucky for you, I brought the best computer there is."

"Okay, so what's the problem?"

"No, dammit! You're supposed to ask me what or where it is."

Adam sighed, and crossed his arms. "Okay, what or where is it."

Spooky tapped his forehead. "This, and it's in here. Of course, in order to make the best of it, I'm going to need a proper cyberdeck. I got a contact in Little Taipei, and he's willing to part with an _Ono-Sendai Matrix III _along with a headset for about three thousand platinum. But..."

"Let me guess, you lost contact with him?"

"What? Nah, I just don't trust the guy. He's knee deep in the local Taiwanese mafia. It's likely he'll try and and screw me over to pay some debts. Or maybe he filled the deck's casing full of M&Ms — I'll probably have no idea until I crack the sucker open. Point is, I need you to make sure he doesn't try anything, and maybe use your CASIE on him."

"Sounds simple enough. And you're certain the Ono-Sendai is worth it?"

"They haven't made a better Cyberdeck in years, mark my words."

"Tali, what do you think?"

"I don't know how good this 'Cyberdeck' is..." she made quote signs for emphasis. "But I've worked on a static setup before and I haven't been caught. Then again, it was under controlled conditions, so..."

"The Durendal is in orbit; couldn't Hein and Lunchbox help us from up there?"

Tali and Spooky were aghast, and both said, "Nooooooo nononono. Bad Idea."

"The Durendal would have to emit a very powerful signal to cut through space and the interference from Dosadi's wireless traffic," Tali explained.

"Couldn't we just encrypt the signal?"

"Doesn't matter, the Durendal transmits a signal that strong, and it will be locked on immediately."

"And if the installation is that important, I suspect EG will have Noveria's kill sats go live to keep it secure."

Adam had a lot to think about now, with what Kasumi, Drebin and the hackers had just told him. "Hm... I'll think about it."

"Yeah, well, don't take your sweet time," said Spooky, tapping his watch. "The clock's ticking."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen had decided to help Kasumi out, figuring that being able to infiltrate someone's dreams might be an asset... although he had to admit, the notion did make him a bit uncomfortable.<p>

He rented an aircar, a gray SydMotors Strada that featured four seats and compatibility with the MagRoad system of Middle Dosadi. It had been remotely delivered about a hundred meters away from Brea's apartment building, for discretion's sake.

"Hold on," he said, before starting up the car. He Breached its navigation system, and ensured that the Strada would transmit inaccurate positional data back to the city's navigation system. He didn't want to be tracked, even if the Chip buried under his skin gave him a brand new identity.

_"Welcome, mister Yasumoto," _the car's VI cheerfully greeted. Jensen groaned.

"What?" said Kasumi.

"I think Spooky played a joke on me. Look at me. Do I look even remotely Japanese?"

"Well, not without a slight australian accent, you don't."

Jensen took the car in the air, flying it manually. "...You lost me," he said, a bit confused.

"Riiight, the big Neo Kobe cultural revolution was before your time..." Jensen didn't feel the need to correct her. "Well, there's plenty of blonde Caucasians with Japanese names around on Earth these days. Why do you think I can get away with calling myself Kasumi Goto?"

Jensen looked her over. She had changed into a different outfit: her hair was a shade of indigo, and she was wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a black leather jacket. "Well, you kinda look... _vaguely_ Asian..."

Goto snorted. "Yeah, if you squint and tilt your head, sure. Look, try and get used to it. If you keep getting all self-conscious whenever someone calls you by that name, people will catch on that it's not yours."

"Right, I'll try."

Jensen saw an opportunity to get onto the MagRoad system and took it, if only for the familiar feeling of driving on the ground. Of course, he was simply _hovering_ on the ground, but that was close enough to remind him of the old days, when there has been no Mass Effect drives to speak of. Jensen took a deep breath, and relaxed. It was nice not to have to worry about mid-air collisions for a change.

Also, as a bonus, it conserved fuel and kept the core charge to a minimum.

"So... Power Girl?" he asked, referring to what Kasumi had called Brea.

"What?" Kasumi shrugged, then smiled. "She kinda looks like a Power Girl."

"Which artist?"

"I'm thinking..." Kasumi sent Jensen a challenging look. "...The Amanda Conner years."

"...Nah, Morgan's proportions are your basic comic book heroine. More Wonder Woman than anything."

"Hm... she does have the shoulders. And the attitude. Yeah, definitely more of a Wonder Woman. Also!" Kasumi slapped Jensen's shoulder. "Holy shit! You know what the hell I'm talking about. You _nerd!_"

"Hey, I was raised on DC comics. I'm more surprised _you_ know anything about them. They're just a little before your time."

Kasumi looked embarrassed, and then a little sad. "Ah, well... my memory programmer was obsessed with pre-Collapse comics. Occasionally he'd implant a nerd girl personality in me and I'd keep him company for the day."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to dredge up bad memories."

"Bad memories? The short moments I had with Keiji were the best, really. So thanks."

"So the South-African... what was his deal? Why did he have you modified like that?"

"Hell if I know, but if I had to guess, he did it because having an agent capable of doing... well, _everything_ was really useful. And there's money to be had in stealing memories, far more than art and jewels. Forget monetizing data, you can monetize _skills."_

"Such as?"

Kasumi started reciting a list: "Computers, Electronics, Environmental Training, Lockpicking, Medicine, Demolitions, Pistols, Rifles, Heavy Weapons—"

"What about swimming?"

"Meh, I never had much use for swimming. I prefer more useful skillsets. You know, like _driving?_" she said, almost accusingly.

"I'm sorry?"

"We just passed the horizontal MagRail that was supposed to take us to the ground."

"Shit, sorry... I actually have no idea how to get on those. I'm more used to the Citadel system."

"Here, let me do it."

Jensen had the wheel mounted on dashboard's rail slide over to the passenger seat, and Kasumi took over the controls. She slowed the car down next to a set of horizontal rails, and parked the vehicle right next to them. The MagRails electromagnetically connected to the Strada, and gently carried it down on another MagRoad that was headed towards of the ground level of Middle Dosadi... which, to Jensen's surprise, was upside down. The Strada's own MagWheels kept the car suspended instead of keeping it afloat.

"Here, you can take over."

"Thanks... I've been meaning to ask. When you steal memories, is that literal? Do you leave people amnesiac?"

"I 'steal memories' in the same sense that copying a music or a vid is stealing. But yeah, I can make people forget... for a while."

"For a while?"

"Erasing memories permanently involves killing neurons. What I do is... have you ever woken up, but you were still working under a weird logic, that the king of Belgium owed you twenty dollars even though you've never met the guy and they use euros over there?"

"Once or twice, yeah."

"Right, that's what I do, I can replace a memory with a waking delusion in place of the real event... but it never lasts. Sooner or later, and unless the brain is diseased, the real memories reassert themselves. The more believable and detailed the delusion, the more the victim accepts it, and it stays even longer."

"How can you even come up with an acceptable memory that's detailed enough? The painstaking detail alone should take you days to..."

"No, no, no, you're thinking in the terms of a 3d modeler, now... back to the sleep analogy: Have you ever taken a melatonin supplement? Or, more simply, have you ever struggled to stay awake, but closed your eyes for just a moment, and in the blink of an eye fully imagined a place you had never visited, or a person you had never met?"

"...Yeah, actually."

"Think about how crazy detailed a person's face is. It should have taken your mind hours to build one from scratch, but you came up with hair and eye color and height and width and who knows what else in an _instant_. My hardware allows me to tap into that ability to create an entire world in minutes!"

Jensen looked down, at the transparent floor of the Strada's interior. He could see a playground, suspended on top of a floating building. He wondered if the children playing in it were Chipped as well, if their every thoughts and memories were at someone's fingertips, collated to detect incoming trends in their preferences in cartoons, or music, or toys.

Or if they had any controls over what they liked at all anymore.

Red hologram. Jensen stopped the car, and a bus surrounded by advertising holograms passed by. The largest one was an Arcadia advert: a beautifully made up woman mouthed the slogan 'STEP INTO MY WORLD' as it streaked by in big white letters across her face.

Green hologram. Go.

"You make it sound wonderful, but... the technology kind of scares me. To rewrite a person like that, even temporarily... that's a power people are going to abuse. And if they can do that permanently, then... what kind of world are we going to live in when your very identity is at the mercy of the rich and powerful?"

"Scary, yeah. If it makes you feel any better, in order to make the memories stick, they'd need to physically alter your brain as well. That's hours of surgery followed by a cocktail of drugs, right there. It's too hard and way, way too expensive."

"Or maybe... all they need is a chip to do it." Jensen shook his head, trying not to dwell on the horror that Dosadi was shaping up to be. "Are we almost there?"

"Hm? Yeah, just take a left, here."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As a Strada passed them by, the children kept playing, their parents watching over them. One of them starting to hum a tune, then another followed suit, then another, and another... until finally they all sang in unison:<p>

"London bridge is falling down, falling down..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ken Ruger's domicile had been built in a suburban neighborhood which itself had been built on top of a skyscraper. The Strada had been parked some distance away at the nearest parking area for the sake of discretion, and Adam and Kasumi still had to take an elevator to go up to their objective. They now only had to cross a three-story rotunda that served as a small, but well frequented shopping mall. It was Jensen's first up-close-and-personal look at the people of Middle Dosadi, and at some of the popular fashions in both Europe and the OCU.<p>

There was a copper-haired albino dressed in a white suit with black stripes, with its left breast checkered. He had a plastic nose and plastic shoes that matched.

There were three women at a coffee table wearing skin-tight bodysuits, each of them with a different tessellated pattern, and sheets of plastic hovered above their hair, twisted into ringlets.

There was a middle aged gentleman with a curved metal harness over his head, wearing a khaki-colored closed lab coat with a lozenge-within-a-lozenge pattern centered over the middle of his chest, which had a lozenge-shaped opening, inside of which was a tuft of red silk meant to evoke an exposed, open heart.

And contrasting with the strange fashions were the relatively plain OCU salarymen who hurried past Adam, wearing plain black business suits with silver circuitry printed on the shoulders, their corporate tattoos visible on the back of their hands. These men would be working for Sony for the rest of their lives. Their families would be housed by Sony, they would eat Sony food and their funerals would be paid for by Sony.

Holograms hovered around their heads. Even when they were walking to work, they were_ working._

There was a blonde girl downstairs, wearing a pink, translucent dress with fluffy skirt and tassels that reminded Jensen instantly of a Jellyfish, with a similar hairstyle than the women at the coffee table. She was beating up on a young black haired woman in a black and white maid outfit, thwacking on her head over and over again with a fur purse... that yelped with every strike. Jensen zoomed in and, to his horror, saw that the purse was actually a tiny Welsh Corgi bio-engineered to become a living accessory.

A _still_ _living and still very conscious_ Welsh Corgi bio-engineered to become a living accessory.

The blonde was flanked by twins, and Jensen swore they resembled Kasumi to the point that anyone would have mistaken them for her younger sisters... and from the tattoos on their foreheads Jensen knew what they were: Entourage clones.

They were dressed in elegant yet humble white _hanbok _patterned with a minimalist art-nouveau flower pattern, designed to make the little rich girl's garish pink jellyfish of an outfit stand out all the more.

He wondered if the dress was alive, too, and when it twitched he wondered no more.

"You're late! This outfit is ten minutes too _old_!" The blonde teenage brat screeched, pointing indignantly at a torn package on the ground. "Do you WANT me to be the laughing stock of the school?! Get me another one!"

Kasumi's voice came out of the maid, droning, flat, _subservient_: "I am sorry, mistress. I could not afford anything else with the credit chit you gave—"

"You're calling me poor?! How dare you?!" She thwacked the maid again, and blood splattered on the ground. "How DARE YOU?!"

Bystanders all around either shook their heads in disapproval at the scene, or made a point not to look. Nobody really cared to call emergency services. To them this was just a spoiled teenage girl having a tantrum, taking out her anger on her toys. There was one exception: a round faced dark haired man with a goatee who simply stared at the clones, his expression completely unreadable... as unreadable as the clones.

Jensen thought that enough was enough, and decided to do something about that little brat, only for Kasumi to hug his arm and pull him away. He looked at her, his stare questing for her permission to be let loose, like an attack dog. She simply shook her head.

"You're only going to make things worse, and then the SSC is going to arrest us."

"But... that's... that's your sister."

"She's my clone; we're not one big happy family."

"I... I can't accept this kind of abuse. I can't. I _won't._"

"I know it looks bad, but do you hear her scream, Adam?"

Adam grit his teeth. "Just because she can't doesn't me she doesn't want to."

"Trust me, she doesn't. We're born to be slaves, Jensen. Right now the only person that Sun-Mi is angry at is herself for failing her mistress. Please, let's just go."

"Goto..."

"Please...?"

They got on an elevator, but not before an SSC patrol arrived and very politely asked the petulant brat to stop disturbing the peace.

_Disturbing the peace._ God, Adam hated this place.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the doorstep of a nice two-story house made out of concrete plated with wood, Jensen took a deep breath, trying to put the earlier display of callousness behind him. Get in, get the DC Mini, and with enough luck he'd have time to spare to get both the Ono-Sendai and the modified P90.<p>

"So, how do you want to do this? I say we sneak in the back and—"

Kasumi walked up to the front door and knocked on it with her fist.

"Or, we could do... that."

"RUGER?! OPEN THE FUCK UP! I AM IN A BAD MOOD AND I AM THIS CLOSE TO BREAKING DOWN YOUR DOOR." She banged on the door again. "KEN! KEEEN!"

Eventually, the door came ajar, and a short, middle-aged white man with red hair and a wispy beard peeked out of the gap, the two chains now his only defense against unlawful entry and the wrath of Kasumi Goto.

"Um, c-c-can I, can I help you?" he stuttered, scared like a mouse.

"Yeah, you can help me, KEN."

"I'm s-sorry? M-my name i-i-is Ben, Benjamin Luger."

"Ken, you sent me on the most fucked up Dream Run ever, and before I knew it I had Manticore and the SSC on my ass. I got kicked in the HEAD. I was nearly taken by STRANGLERS. My brain nearly shorted out! But you know what really, REALLY pisses me off the most? I didn't even get PAID for my trouble. So you get back in your house, and get me that DC Mini, and we're calling it even."

"I...I'm sorry. I think you've got me confused with someone else."

Kasumi's jaw stiffened, and she gritted her teeth. "...No. No, don't you _dare_ pull that shit on me."

"P-P-Please, Miss..." The man that wasn't quite Ken's voice was trembling. "...I-I h-have no idea what you're t-t-t-talk-talking about!"

"Ken," Kasumi put her palm on the door, pushing against it and keeping Ruger from closing it. "I'm gonna SHIT on your car, I swear to god!"

"Yes, w-w-well, have fun with that, miss, but I really need to get back to making my lunch. Okay? Okay, goodbye now..."

"Ken, don't you—" and then, with surprising strength, Ruger pushed against his door, and Kasumi could do nothing as the door was locked with a deadbolt. "...Oh, oh this means war now. Oh yes."

Jensen, suspected that Ken was now calling the cops, was proven right when he turned on his smart-Vision. He locked on to the phone's frequency and Breached it, and hijacked the communications.

_"SSC Emergency services. Please state the nature of your emergency,"_ he said sub-vocally. Ken made his statement, nervous like a mouse, saying there was a crazy woman at his door with a tall man behind her. Jensen played the part of a dispatch cop perfectly, and Ken would be waiting for help that would never come.

Jensen kinda felt bad, now. He felt worse when Kasumi took a few steps back, then took a running start before jumping and kicking the door down. Inside, Ken Ruger seemed to panic, but there was a certainty to his movements that Jensen noticed as he ran away, grabbing a spray can and reaching inside his pants. He ran towards the back door, and Jensen headed him off by going around the house.

Adam was just about to tackle the man on the patio, but Ruger had made himself a makeshift flamethrower with a lighter and a spray can of cleanser. The flames surged out at Adam's face, and he brought his arms up to shield himself in desperation instead of dodging out of the way. Tongues of fire licked the sleeves of his green hoodie.

Jensen, really, REALLY hated fire, and that had been enough for him to stop dead in his tracks, then back away. While Ruger was focused on keeping Adam at bay, Goto had no trouble tackling Ruger down on the grass. She tore his improvised weapon out of his grasp. Keeping him under control was more problematic than expected: The man was a scrapper... but he finally gave up after a while, and Kasumi had him pinned on the lawn.

"Please, please! Take whatever you want, just... just don't kill me! I have a family, they'll be visiting any time, now..."

"You don't have a family, you jerk!" Kasumi tied Ruger up with flash cuffs. "Hey, you okay, uh... Basch?"

"I'm okay..." Adam took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. "Not a fan of fire, that's all." He looked at his sleeves, and he patted the flames away. "Damn, gonna need a change of clothes. Again."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The inside of Ken Ruger's domicile was filled with replicas and replicas of a time gone by. There were magazines with Raygun Gothic art on the covers, collections of sci-fi short stories penned in a time when the dream of the Jet Age held so many wonderful possibilities, before real science debunked most of them. There were posters mounted on every wall of the living room: <em>It Came From Outer Space, It Came from Beneath the Sea Cat Women from the Moon, A Nightmare On Elm Street <em>All sorts of flicks were being silently advertised, all of them about monsters coming out of the unknown to kill us, to control us, to have sex with us.

There was a jukebox, and upon closer observation Jensen realized that the thing used actual vinyl records. That brought a smile to his face.

Ken Ruger was tied to his couch, a big comfy thing that looked nothing like the spartan modern day furniture in the Citadel or the Neo Art-Nouveau style of Dosadi. An awkward silence fell between the two men.

"So, um... sorry about... the whole home invasion thing," said Jensen.

"Oh, uh, no, no it's okay..." said Ken, but Jensen knew it was certainly not okay. "Sorry about the uh... improvised flamethrower."

"Oh... no harm done. You were just defending your home."

"Still..."

"...Yeah."

Downstairs in the basement, Kasumi screamed in frustration. "What the fuck?!" She ran up the stairs. "Where's the shit, Ken?!"

"W-w-what?" the short red-haired man stammered. "You m-mean my model kits? You saw them, they're d-d-down-downstairs! Please, they're worth a small fortune! Take them! Take them, just please go..."

"I'm talking about your DC bed, your computers, your decks! Where are they?!"

"I don't know what you're talking about! But I my son has got quite a few Silver Age DC comics! They're in his bedroom! Take them, they're all yours!"

Kasumi looked at Jensen meaningfully. "Well?"

"He's not lying." Jensen crossed his arms, having scanned Ken with the CASIE. "He honestly doesn't know what you're talking about... he's thinks he's married with kids, and he's terrified of you." He sighed. "Kasumi, are you sure you got the right place?"

"Don't you patronize me!" she snapped. She walked up to Ruger, leaned in, put her hands over his shoulders and stared into his eyes. "Damn it. He did himself."

"Excuse me?"

"He's induced a delusion in his brain. Probably to evade the cops. You can falsify any kind of evidence these days: DNA, video, audio... and until recently, the only reliable way to convict people was to put them under VK. The only way to fool that..."

"...Is to make yourself believe your own lies," Jensen muttered. How many innocents had he and Garrus put to jail due to faulty VK results? How many criminals had they let go?

"Right, so I'm thinking Ken here made himself think he was an honest salaryman and ditched all of his hardware so that the SSC wouldn't put him in jail," she pulled away from Ken, and bit the tip of her thumb. "Damn it."

"Didn't you say it takes a while for the real memories to come back?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, wouldn't he need to get the delusion refreshed to maintain it?"

Ken looked at the two intruders, confused, as Kasumi considered the idea.

"You're right. He wouldn't trust anyone but himself to do it, so he'd have to use the Mini!"

"Keep looking around the house, I'll keep an eye on him."

Kasumi proceeded upstairs, her logic as a thief telling her that valuables are usually stored in the upper levels, away from the easy routes of access and escape.

Twenty minutes, and she still hadn't found anything.

Jensen decided to chat with Ken, if only to make this terrible experience slightly less uncomfortable.

"So... I can't but notice you're a big fan of the mid-1900s"

Ken smiled nervously. "Um... yeah," he chuckled sheepishly. "I-I've been a fan ever since I saw some pictures in a history book. I followed that up on a few vids on Oz and uh... the fifties looked so compelling to me, you know? A better time, a simpler time, when people were much _nicer_ to each other." He said 'nicer' somewhat pointedly and accusingly. That stung Jensen a bit.

_Nevermind the racism, misogyny, and Cold War paranoia, _Jensen thought. While Jensen understood where Ken was coming from, people were simply more polite back in the fifties. That didn't mean they were nicer than today.

"And the music..." Ken seemed to relax. "The music was wonderful, you had your Jazz, Bebop, your Blues... you had your R&B, your Swing... there was an energy to the music back then, not like today... Right now it's all synthesizer apps, and procedurally-generated pop idols with procedurally generated voices singing procedurally generated songs. There's no soul anymore..."

On that, Jensen couldn't help but agree.

"Well, there was Mi-Young Whyte, but she's dead now..."

"Mind if I put on something?"

"Um... sure, go ahead..."

Jensen checked the list printed inside the glass, under the carousel of discs. First on the list was _Mr. Sandman_ by _the Chordettes_, _All I have to do is Dream_ by the _Everly Brothers, Dream Lover_ by _Bobby Darin,_ _Dream a little Dream of me _by_ Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong, A kiss to build a dream on _by_ Louis Armstrong, Sinnerman _by_ Nina Simone..._

_Wait. Something's off. _Jensen read the rest of the playlist. All them, save for _Sinnerman_, had dreams as a central theme, which kinda fit Ken's supposed business but _Sinnerman_... well, that song applied more to thieves and criminals on the run, which kinda fit Kasumi's profession and status as a fugitive from the law.

Shrugging and figuring that there was no harm in trying, Jensen was about to press the button that was supposed to summon the haptics, but stopped himself when he saw the analogue controls. He realized that haptic switches were ubiquitous on any piece of modern electronic hardware, the first thing anyone from this era would look for, the perfect decoy. So, he decided to try pressing the analogue buttons first.

The song played, but instead of hearing the sultry voice of Nina Simone, Jensen heard a Muppet sing.

_One of these things is not like the other!_

_Which one is different, do you know?_

_Tell me which thing is not like the others_

_And I'll tell you if it is so!_

"Do you remember putting that song in there?" asked Jensen.

"Well..." Ken looked up, trying to recall the day he put the vynil disc in. "No, I don't."

"Is that right...?" Jensen immediately began to look for anything out of the ordinary. First, he looked at the posters, and realized that the Nightmare on Elm Street (the 2010 version, that is) poster was out of place next to its more retro neighbors. He took it off the wall, and on the back there was a QR code that, to the casual observer, would have looked like some kind of company logo or a purchase code.

Scanning the code revealed a message, laced in gibberish:

SEARCH THE HOUSE

"Hey!" Jensen called out. "I found something!"

"What?" replied Kasumi from upstairs.

"It's a hidden message! It says, 'search the house!'"

"...Well, at least I know I'm on the right track! I've been doing nothing but searching the shit out of this house!"

"Hm... have you found anything that isn't from the 1950's?"

"Um... let's see. There's an issue of Watchmen here..."

"Is there anything odd about it? A code printed in it?"

"Well, there's the letters A and the number 1 written on the back. You think that's important?"

Jensen pressed the matching keys on the Jukebox. The Chordettes started to sing.

Jensen decided to look for anything else that stood out, but could find nothing else that wasn't 1950's-themed.

He decided to visit the basement: The entire place had been pretty obviously re-purposed into a hobby workshop, complete with tools hanging on the wall. On a large table was a miniature neighborhood, an altar of wood and plastic and glue dedicated to Googie and Streamline Moderne architecture, complete with a diner, a soda shop, a bowling alley, a supermarket, and several houses.

"Search the house..." Jensen looked at every house, until his eyes came across a house built in the california bungalow style, which looked just a bit different from the Raygun Gothic of the rest of the miniature neighborhood. He used his Smart-Vision on it, and found a switch under the roof. He opened the tiny box of a home, and pushed the button.

The table opened up, cubing lumps of programmable matter exploding and imploding out of the way to reveal a small black box. It was mostly featureless save for six little holes, and a bit of Hangul written on the bottom:

노래해

The box was completely shielded, and Jensen's own Smart-Vision couldn't get past the thick shell. Jensen went upstairs, and showed it to Kasumi. She translated the hangul letters as 'sing' and instantly attempted to sing into the box. Nothing.

"Bah, let's just crack open the sucker. She readied her Omni-Fist App. "Put it on the floor."

"Yeah, I think I've got a better idea," said Jensen as he brought the black cube close to the juke box. He had 'Mr Sandman' replayed, and put the box's holes right next to the speaker.

"Nothing's happening..." said Kasumi.

"Be patient." said Jensen.

Eventually, the song came to its conclusion:

_Mister Sandman bring us_  
><em>Please, please, please <em>  
><em>Mister Sandman bring us <em>  
><em>a dreeeaaaaam!<em>

And just like that, the box opened, revealing two curves of white plastic with small blue claws that glowed faintly blue.

"Jackpot," declared Jensen, a slight smile on his face.

"I could kiss you right now," said Kasumi.

"Later, let's get out of here, first."

"Right, but first..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[All I Have To Do Is Dream - Everly Brothers]<em>

_In a soda shop made of white walls, white tables, white seats and a white counter, Benny, in his soda jerk's uniform (complete with bow tie and hat) was scrubbing the counter, making sure it was spotless, and waited patiently for the first customers of this beautiful summer day._

_Eventually, a young couple came through the door: the girl was a raven-haired pale woman in a dress the color of French Vanilla ice cream, with a blue silk scarf around her neck. The brown haired young man was dressed in a black shirt and black jeans, and wore a black and gold Basketball Letterman's jacket._

_"Why, hello there, greeted Benny, "Welcome to the Poppa's Soda fountain! What can I—" Then, something clicked inside Benny, and then he was no longer Benny the soda jerk, but Ken Ruger, a psychologist who had turned down a promising career at a cybernetics company to become a janitor, of all things. He had made this choice to have enough time to pursue his passion for the Dream Hacker sub-culture. "Goto. You're **late**." He noticed the man accompanying her. "Who's he?"_

_"Who's who?" asked Kasumi._

_"The man whose arm you're hugging."_

_Kasumi realized what she was doing, and pulled herself away from the man, a bit embarrassed. The man himself couldn't quite believe he was there, either, and examined his avatar's hand, as if skin was such an alien concept to him._

_"Oh! That's uh... How did you follow me here?" she asked._

_"I have no idea," said the young man. "I suppose I put the other DC Mini on."_

_Ken rolled his eyes. "Great, you brought a newbie into my Dream Site? Oh, never mind, just don't touch anything, alright?"_

_"...Alright," the young man said, still trying to process what was happening to him. "My name's... my name's Basch. Yeah, that's it."_

_"Ken Ruger, master of nightmares." said Ken. "Now, is there anything I can do for you?"_

_"I have the goods," said Kasumi. "Right here, they're yours if you want them."_

_"Well, that's awfully generous of you... what's the catch?"_

_"The catch is you tell me who the client on my last job was."_

_"...Alright, then, step into the back, we'll get the dream extracted."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Dr Ken Ruger, in his white labcoat, his black latex gauntlets and his welding goggles, looked the part of a mad scientist. Jensen looked around, and saw that his laboratory (at the bottom of a huge, circular pit with a tiled floor with colored ships that depicted a giant squid) pretty much matched Ruger's outfit, with its dark Electropunk vibes. The walls were covered in glass cabinets; rows and rows of glass vials that glowed blue and teal and green. There were black iron girders everywhere, and a rail system for a mechanical chair (made of brass and cushioned with dark red velvet) spiraled from the bottom of the pit to the endless top. Lightning cracked from a dozen Tesla Coils. <em>

_Because you simply had to have Tesla Coils in a lab, for some reason._

_Kasumi was strapped to a chair, straight out of the nightmares children had about their dentist. She didn't seem in distress._

_"Man, I hate this part," she said, implying that she had done this before, and subtly telling Jensen to stay calm._

_"This won't hurt a bit," said Ruger, deadpan, as he readied a huge syringe._

_"Liar."_

_"What is this place?" asked Jensen._

_"Well, Mister Basch..." replied Ruger, as he jabbed the needle inside Kasumi's forehead. "This is the Dream Extraction Room. It's meant to facilitate the sharing and distillation of dreams... at least, for me. Any good Dream Hacker has one, and everyone's got a different ritual. Some like to play the snake shaman, I prefer a more scientific method."_

_Ruger pulled the plunger, extracting a glowing red liquid from Kasumi's mind. "I love doing this to you, Goto. Your brain's setup allows for a perfect extraction, without bias contamination. It makes the dreams worth that much more..."_

_"Ngh! Quit being a creep."_

_"Ah, sorry."_

_Jensen examined some of the other vials nearby. He focused and stared into one, and heard horrible screams._

_"What the hell are those?"_

_"Dreams, Mister Basch. Or more precisely, Nightmares." He produced an ampoule from the syringe, and beheld it, utterly fascinated. "My specialty." he smiled._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Ken the Soda Jerk served Kasumi a Root beer float, a treat for being such a good sport for having a needle in her skull. She savored the sugary drink slowly, while Ken and 'Basch' spoke.<em>

_"So you buy and sell... nightmares?"_

_"Pretty much."_

_"There's a market for those?"_

_"You'd be surprised." Ruger waved towards the bottles of soda syrup. Jensen expected to see 'Mango' or 'Lavender' written on the bottles. Instead he saw 'Humiliation', 'Embarrassment', 'Murder Victim', 'Horrible Metamorphosis', 'Car Crash', and a whole bunch (and impossible infinity, in fact) of other creepy titles on stickers, with a lovely preview of the bottle's 'contents' drawn on them in Ligne Claire._

_Ken extracted a spoonful of 'Horrible Metamorphosis' and mixed it with a glass of plain soda, and served it to Jensen. The young man strained his ears, and he could hear the sound of a man screaming in agony, wet cracking noises, and the buzzing of a fly._

_"If I drink this..."_

_"You'll experience a transformation, then you'll wake up."_

_"Why? Why would anyone be interested in this?"_

_"You've seen the people outside: They may look awake, but they're asleep. They sleepwalk through life, their potential unfulfilled. Some people, however, suffer through a terrible event that wakes them up. It could be violence, or disease. Tragedies that make no sense... it doesn't matter. It galvanizes them, makes them stronger, more determined to succeed. That's what I sell. People come to me to _wake up_, Mister Basch, and they pay me top dollar to do it."_

_He looked around, conspiratorially. "_Metamorphosis_ isn't even my best." He pulled out a wooden Chinese medicine box from under the counter, and opened it. Sitting in a bed of red velvet was a tiny bottle of black glass. "I've got a dream straight out of the mind of the Manticore Bomber himself. He came to me one night, and offered me this in exchange for a temporary reprieve from his torment."_

_"Who?"_

_"A serial arsonist that targeted Manticore assets here in Dosadi." said Kasumi, "He killed four of their top contractors using special homemade concussion bombs."_

_"What happened to him?"_

_Kasumi shrugged. "Nobody knows. He just stopped attacking, one day. That was... three years ago, maybe?"_

_"What made him attack Manticore?"_

_"The answer lies within this bottle. If you have the courage and the coin, then you can know. Or perhaps you have a nightmare you can give me in exchange?" Ruger smiled eagerly._

_"...I'll pass, thanks."_

_Ruger shrugged, "Another time, then."_

_Kasumi finished her float. "Okay, I got a question, and you better give me an answer."_

_"Shoot," said Ken, putting the bottle away._

_"Who was the client that sent me after that Nightmare you just extracted?"_

_"You know my clients value their anonymity, dear..."_

_"Yeah well, considering he might have had something to do with Kai Leng coming after me, I'm thinking this was a set up of some sort."_

_"It certainly might have been — why do you think I went into hiding in my own head? — but the money was good, and I..." Ken sighed. "I might have gotten a little stupid. There was something about the details of the job that was just... odd."_

_"Odd?" asked Jensen._

_"At first, the way he presented it, I thought this client wanted me to do a typical corporate espionage job: give some big wig a wet dream to remove his resistance, then induce a memory flashback and glean valuable corporate secrets. He clarified that he wanted me to send Dream Hackers to fetch a specific Nightmare from... anyone that hummed a tune._

_"Why is that so odd?"  
><em>

_Kasumi answered that one. "Usually when a client wants a custom Dream, all I have to do is meditate while he's connected, and build one from specs, or mix and match other Dreams from a repertoire until he's satisfied. On a Dream Heist, I attack someone _specific, _not a general group of people."_

_"Ah... and what was the tune?"_

_Ken produced a bakelite radio from under the counter, and tuned it to a station without plugging it in. A little girl sang an old nursery rhyme, her voice laced with static._

_It was London Bridge. The song's tone was cheerful at first, but it slowly began to warp into something unsettling. _

The young man's mouth is dripping with blood,

with an insane grin

and an even more insane gleam in his eye

"LET ME OUT"

_Jensen gasped, startled by the vision._

"...My fair lady..." _the song continued,_ _and then Ken shut the radio down._

_"Loriik hummed that tune the whole time I was with him..." said Kasumi._

_"That's why I sent you after him," said Ken._

_"You mentionned other Dream Hackers?" asked Jensen._

_Ken looked somber. "Yes, I sent eleven other Dream Hackers. None of them came back from their jobs. Kasumi here is the only one that reported back, and when she kept babbling incoherently I went under complete lockdown. My guess? The folks at Arcadia were field testing a new type of ICE designed to target people like us."_

_"Can you tell me more about the client?" asked Kasumi. "Anything that would help me figure out his identity?"_

_"...His voice was definitely artificial. He spoke like a mechanical werewolf. There was a constant, tinny growl to his speech. I thought it was weird: I've heard disguised voices before, but that one didn't sound gender neutral. It was definitely male."_

_"Is that right?" said Jensen. "Got a sample?"_

_Ken replayed the transaction as best he could recall it, and imitated the client's voice through the radio. It was also laced with static, but Jensen recognized it immediately._

_It was his AI stalker._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[The Hacker - Village of the Damned]<strong>_

_"Don't drink anything, don't eat anything, and for the love of Christ, DO NOT get on the dance floor." _That had been Spooky's warning to Tali.

There were night clubs, and day clubs, and then there were 24-hour clubs, the kind that were open all the time in some of the unlit areas of Middle Dosadi where night and day didn't matter. Modern Dosadi pharmaceuticals had come up with 'sleep substitute' drugs for humans that allowed them to do away with sleep for at least a week, as a way to compete with Salarian work hours. It was still in the beta phase of development, but quite a few young people between the ages of 16 and 29 had gotten their hands on the formula, and tweaked it to their own specs.

24-hour clubs (basically nightclubs that stayed open longer) came along to take advantage of this, giving kids with too much energy and enough money to buy their way out of school a place to get into perfectly acceptable hedonism.

Tali didn't have to wait long at the front door, since the day-crowd was only half as large as the night-crowd. Still, it had taken her twenty minutes to get close to the bouncer. The young man in front of her barked at the tall blonde woman in a black latex dress and matching gloves. Tali was no stranger to cigarettes, but she had never seen someone smoke it through a long lacquered tube before. Spooky smoked because he enjoyed it. This woman smoked because she knew she looked very good doing it.

"You fail. Go away," she said in a sultry voice.

"But you told me to bark!"

"And you failed at it. Go. Away."

"Aw..." and just like that, the man walked away.

"Next!" commanded the bouncer.

It was Tali's turn now, and she realized the folly of going through the front door. She was a Quarian, after all, and places like this tended to have some strict policies about 'dog legs', or 'suit rats', or any other imaginative slur she hadn't heard yet.

She hid her nervousness under some snark. "Do I have to bark, too?"

"Hm..." the woman looked at Tali from top to bottom, and the young Quarian could feel the human woman's intense stare scan her from behind her silvery mirrored shades. "Look at you, Quarian... a lovely creature of curves and leather, all wrapped up in pink like a gift. The things I could do with those hips..."

"Um...what?"

The bouncer breathed out a cloud of smoke. It gathered around her like a silver aura. Then, she lifted her shades, licking her upper lip. Her very luscious, very red upper lip. "I order you to stand there and be my eye candy. I want you to be still while I undress you with my eyes and treat you like a sex object. Do you have some kind of objection to that, darling?"

Tali had no idea how to react to that one, and she simply let the woman stare at her with what humans liked to call 'bedroom eyes'. She had no idea what that had meant until she was being stared at by a pair of silvery ones. The bouncer had the same presence as Brea — imperious, authoritative, dominating — but she was far more mature, like a House matron. Tali found herself withering under her stare, wringing her hands in front of her crotch as if trying to shield her private regions from unwanted eyes which she realized was completely silly because she was still wearing her suit _and Oh Keelah did she have Smart-Vision she must have Smart-Vision just like Jensen Oh no does Jensen have Smart-Vision on all the time does he see me naked all the time I must look so sweaty and dirty and I poop in this thing oh ancestors kill me now—_

"Oh, and she _blushes_..." said the Bouncer as she put her silver mirror shades back down, her examination done. Tali must have looked more coquettish than intended, because she had a hard time believing what she heard next. "You can go in, free of charge."

"...Really?"

"Yes, really. Do hurry up darling? Hesitation is not an attractive character trait."

Tali moved to go on in, but the woman barred her way with her arm. "Oh and uh... if you ever need to work, the name's Molly." She handed Tali a card — apparently, Molly was in charge of hiring dancers for the club... amongst other things. With another smile and a wink, Tali was let through.

"Hey, how come the dog-legs gets to go in for free?!" shouted a large asian man behind her, his muscles the result of gene mods, electro-stims and zero effort.

"Because she's pretty and I like her. For you? It's five-thousand Nuyen to get in, Fridge Largemeat."

"Hey, fuck you, lady! If some job-stealing suit rat gets in for free, then I get in for free, too!"

"Aw, now that's just mean..." she said, feigning sorrow. "Ten thousand, now," she added, deadpan.

"Don't you now who I am?"

"I'm sure you're the son of someone very important. Not impressed. Pay up." Molly put out her cigarette: she knew the man wasn't going to pay.

"...Fuck it, I'm going in, and some bimbo like you isn't gonna stop me."

Molly said nothing as her razor claws came out of her fingertips and she grabbed the man's crotch. "Let's see how well you squeal like a pig. Go on, piggy..."

The large man squealed indeed, and Tali got away from the scene before the SSC showed up.

The inside of the club was dark, its ambients blue and purple. The only contrast came from the OLED strips of indigo and fuchsia and pink that surrounded the dance floor. Saucers hovered above, being shot at by holographic beams of green and blue and orange.

The strobe lights gave Tali a headache. It didn't seem to bother the hundred or so teenagers that were swaying and grinding, bathing in the sonic waves generated by the fingers of the two musicians in front — Alpha Blade and Beta Razor — who kept them on a constant high of dopamine, adrenaline and endorphins.

The two Lunarian DJs were famous (and infamous) for being masters at inducing altered states of consciousness through soundwaves. It was, of course, technically legal, but psychological addiction was common, and only the WTO's _laissez-faire_ attitude towards recreational narcotics allowed them to operate here. They were, according to Spooky, also the best App makers in the electronic demimonde. Omni-Tool apps, Cyberdeck Apps, Laptop Apps... if it was made for shady business, they had an app for it. If it was made to give you a buzz, they had an app for it, and if it could make you come, they had an app for that too.

From where she stood, Tali found the two Lunarians eerily beautiful, they were much, much taller than Jensen was, and they were so skinny and pale. One wore an elegant blue silk shirt, the other a red one. One was fair of hair, the other black. They seemed to float with every step they took.

The crowd was an eclectic bunch, a petri dish in which all sorts of species and subcultures mingled and mixed to create whole new ones. You had those with an obsession with latex sitting next to the ones with a fondness for leather, you had grown women dressed up as little girls drinking with grown men dressed up as super-heroes, you had the stylish dancing with the disheveled. Nobody was judging anyone, least of all a lone Quarian.

_Or maybe they think I'm a human dressed up as a Quarian_, she thought._ Wouldn't that be ironic?_

There were even some Asari, no doubt looking for an experience that didn't involve melding. So far, they were getting their money's worth.

Remembering Spooky's warning, and with an understanding as to why, she circled around the dance floor, intent on meeting with the musical duo. She had the tag Spooky gave her in her left pocket, ready to be shown to them upon a challenge.

She got close to the bar, which served a white liquid called Soma Milk. Several young men and women dressed in white with huge fake eyelashes black round hats glared at her, canes in hand. They frightened her, and she didn't have her shotgun handy.

They grinned menacingly.

She backed away, not thinking, and found herself on the dance floor.

That's when the soundwaves started to lick her pleasure centers. That's when she started to forget about Pilgrimages, and Flotillas and artificial blonde bimbos and shadow-haired clone cyborgs...

_Oh no, _she thought, _oh no no no I have to get away I have a job to do they're counting on me and if I screw up again..._

A pretty, slender brown-haired girl, her figure nearly a match for Tali's, approached her and grabbed her by the wrists, mistaking her attempts at getting away as simple bashfulness. She was with the gang at the bar; she wore little else but white lingerie, complete with garterbelts and stockings, a detached white shirt's collar with a long black tie around her slender neck, and bandages covered her left arm. Fake eyelashes decorated her round, heart-shaped face, and a round black hat with a rim adorned her golden brown hair.

She pulled her into the center of the dance floor, and while Tali tried to protest, the sub-sonics were already hard at work and changing her perception of the universe: the world slowed down, yet the music maintained its tempo. The beats resonated in Tali's abdomen, and she found herself swaying to the beat.

The girl jumped, and her brown locks hung in the air, suspended in time. Her smile was a mischievous heart, a promise of a sweet delight, but if and only if Tali would come closer...

Tali found the girl to be graceful, and beautiful, which was odd, because she wasn't really into girls. No, really! Father had told her he would not tolerate it, after all... And as such, she could never, ever admit to being even remotely attracted to the same sex, not like Zev, who seemed to be so... free, and unbound, despite being respectful of Hein's authority as captain.

They were dancing now, and the girl was moving closer and closer...

It occurred to her then that Zev and Lelia had never told her their clan names. How weird was that?

The girl pulled her into an embrace, and she felt the pressure of her fingers on her back, as if she was wearing nothing at all.

Tali responded by grabbing the dancing girl by the hips.

They swayed and twisted together.

Tali hated her suit so much. Even in a heightened state of awareness, she felt like she wasn't really touching the world around her, not truly seeing the air, not truly smelling the light, not truly hearing the perfume that came off of the girl's skin. It was a prison, a fucking cage, and she wanted to be let out of it for just a minute, and forget everything.

She unlocked her face mask, not caring one bit that she smelled of sweat, stank of anti-biotics and herbal supplements.

The girl's lips tasted like the red of strawberries she had once stolen as a child.

Another member of the girl's gang grabbed Tali from behind, and put his hands on her small breasts, then moved one hand to her abdomen while the other caressed her throat. She knew it was a man: she could feel his erection on her buttocks.

She didn't mind. In fact she enjoyed it. It felt so wonderful to be desired, for once, and not scorned. It felt so good to be wanted and to be touched so unconditionally.

It felt so good simply let go, and _submit. _

"Oh..." she moaned. "Adam..."

_Wait_

_Adam?_

_No_

Inside her head a figure with Jensen's face and the presence of her father looked at her in disgust and disappointment, and she realized how she was making a fool of herself. She tried to pull away, and succeeded, though the girl pouted at her longingly, like a siren begging a sailor not to leave for the shore, where she could never follow. Tali managed to stumble her way towards the DJs, reminding herself that she had business with them— important business!— and that Adam was counting on her, and that he was disappointed in her already and she didn't want to bring shame on her house—

She fainted.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"The Panacea Dextro ought to stick for twenty hours," Tali heard Molly say from a million miles away. Her head hurt, but her back was supported by something comfy and someone was stroking her arm.<p>

She tried to get up.

_Bleargh_, her mouth felt like sanitizer foam. At least her mask was back on, perfectly sealed.

She tried opening her eyes, and the harsh light charged at her retina with the fury of a million hungry Vorcha. Eventually her irises closed far enough to let her see without being blinded: she was in some kind of attic, made of wood — materials that felt so utterly alien to her — decorated with silks patterned after maps, or electronic schematics, or tigers, or dragons, or maybe all of the above. She wasn't sure. What she was sure is that there was a lot of hardware and wires here, and speakers. So many speakers...

The gang of bowl hats (with all seven members) was there, staring at her, sitting casually on cushions, sacks, and couches. The girl was laying besides her on a huge cushion that to Tali looked like an awful, frilly pastry.

"Are you okay?" asked the girl.

"You did not keep a panacea applicator on you," said one of the men. "Unwise."

"Most unwise," said another.

"You could have died," said one of the boys.

Their tone, save for the girl's, was so flat and even that she had no idea if they were genuinely concerned about her or were accusing her of something, and then there was that _glare. _

"I'm... sorry?"

They all smiled at once and said, "don't be."

"Just be careful," said the man.

"Wonderland is full of terrors, little girl," said a boy.

"And if you get lost..." said another boy.

_"The monsters will catch you."_

"Alright bitchesss~!" said the Lunarian in blue, with a slight lisp in his voice. "She's fine, so you can leave, now."

"We need to be alone..." said the Lunarian in red, with a slight lilt in his voice.

"...with the Quarian girl," finished the other DJ. "It's business time..."

"And it's not for your virgin ears! Bzzt!" the red DJ waved the gang away, and they left. The brown-haired girl blew Tali a kiss as she walked away, and she was thankful that she had her mask on to hide her blush.

She wondered which of the boys had grabbed her from behind, though. She hoped it was the tall one.

_No, stop it! It was the music's fault!_

And so, she was now finally meeting Alpha and Beta, both of whom loomed over her as she lay down, the Panacea isolating levo allergens and bacteria and keeping her from going into anaphylactic shock from that unforgettable kiss.

"Who... were those people?" she asked.

The blonde Lunarian rolled his eyes. "Oh pshaw. The Kubricks? They saw this movie poster one time and they've been dressing like the guy on it ever since."

"They never even saw the movie! Can you believe that?" asked the black-haired one, indignant.

"Nevermind the novel..."

"The novel would give them nightmares, honey."

"Of course, dear. Now, where were we?"

"Hmm... oh! Introductions!"

"My name is Alpha Blade..." said the blonde, blue shirted one.

"And my name is Beta Razor..." said the dark haired, red shirted one.

**"We're Elerium-115!"** they said in unison, and took a graceful bow.

_Oh Keelah, they're so... feminine._

"We're curious as to why..." said Alpha.

"...You had this on you," said Beta, producing the Spookies' logo sticker, a grinning ghost with cool shades on.

"There's only one reason you could have this..." said Alpha.

"...but we need to be sure!" exclaimed Beta.

**"What's the password?"** they asked in unison, with mock severity.

Tali's eyes fluttered, trying to recall how it went.

"Muthafucka?" she muttered. What kind of password was that, she wondered? Pass-phrases were more effective.

**"Muthafucka?"** they challenged.

"M-muthatfucka," she countered.

**"Muthafuckaaaaaaaaa~!" **they laughed together, and threw their long slender hands in the air.

"Hallelujah! Spooky is out of that shithole of a planet..."

"And back into the corporate hacking biz!"

"Sticking it to the Man?"

"We can only hope! Tee-hee!"

"Hip hip?"

"Hm... Hur~ray!"

**"Hurray!"**

Tali vomited in her helmet, and the suction system immediately made sure she didn't choke on the liquid.

"Wow!" said Alpha. "Those suits really CAN do everything. I want one!"

"Oh dear," muttered Beta, clutching his pearls. "She's probably reacting to the sub-sonics leaking in the room."

"Well, put out a counter wave, then!"

Beta typed commands on a nearby console, and the speakers emitted pure silence, and for a moment Tali thought she had died.

The worst thing a Quarian could possibly hear was silence: it meant that the power was out, or that the engines were dead, or that the carbon scrubbers were clogged. If a Quarian didn't react to silence immediately, he or she was inviting catastrophe and death on the ship.

The silence sobered Tali up immediately.

"We'd just like to apologize..." said Beta, his voice ringing loud and clear for Tali's translators to make perfect sense of his speech.

"...But we haven't had Quarian customers in, like, years!" continued Alpha.

"Still, how was it?" asked Beta.

"We'd love to hear your feedback!" said Alpha, eagerly.

Those two were an eerily odd pair, Tali decided. "I'm uh, I'm actually here on an errand for Spooky. He sent you an email under the moniker RedFox?"

"Wait, what?! He sent us email?!" Beta glared at Alpha accusingly.

"Hey, don't look at me, I didn't... oh wait."

"What?"

"I think I sent those to the Spam folder."

Beta gasped. "You lying slut! You always wanted him all to yourself!"

"Hey! I told you we're just friends! You're the one who had to push him away by molesting him in his sleep!"

"Slanderer!"

"Slut!"

"Bitch!"

"Creep!"

"Excuse me?" whispered Tali.

**"WHAT?"**

"I need software packages for an Ono-Sendai Matrix III cyberdeck, and a Gibson m50."

Beta gasped. "An Ono-Sendai..."

"...for a Matrix III Cyberdeck?!" whispered Alpha in shock.

"He's back."

"He's really, _really_ back."

"He's more than back. He's the new pink..."

"...which is the new black..."

"...which is the new thursday!"

"Oh, this is a momentous occasion..."

"Truly, it is!"

"And we owe him a favor..."

"...So let's give him our best and latest."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Alright sweetheart, there you go." Alpha handed Tali a data cube. "Inside you'll find Pulser v7.1, Drill v3.5, Traesto v1.2 (waaaaaay better than Recall), Decoy v2.1, Homunculus v0.8b (be careful with that one). Oh, and you've got Shield v4, Duplicator v8, Compressor v8, BACK-UPPER v2, Enemy Scan v2.5, Automapper v2.0, and of course, the inimitable, and totally awesome CRASH v1.0... made by yours truly. When you absolutely, positively want to say, 'fuck you, salaryman'."<p>

"...Oh my! How much do I owe you?" asked Tali. She hoped she had enough platinum in her pocket. She had been told making a transaction at the Elerium-115 club would be more than a little suspect, fake chip ID or no.

She stared at her wrist: it was still implanted in her suit.

"Oh, no no no, like we said..." said Beta.

"...We owe Spooky a favor," finished Alpha.

"But we will, however, take 50 platinum for that Drone upgrade."

"Oh, of course," Tali reached for her pouch, but then realized she hadn't asked for any upgrades to her drones. "Hey! What did you do to Chikktika?!"

"Oh, nothing." said Beta coyly.

"Except clear enough memory to give him like, five sisters..." continued Alpha non-nonchalantly.

"...And replace his Beholder form with the Hua Po form."

"...What the _bosh_?!" Tali was outraged, and she activated her Omni-Tool. They had even changed the desktop theme to the blacks and oranges over a solid white background that was ubiquitous in Dosadi.

Alpha and Beta rolled their eyes. "Oh honey, you had your drone specced to distract and sting people. That stuff wouldn't have cut it against an SSC legionnaire."

"Or worse, a Manticore Mech."

"The Hua Po is much better for dealing with those."

"And if you're still mad, well, the original Beholder files are still in your main drive."

"So, Kaylee, was it?" asked Beta, leaning forward against the seat of his chair with an eager smile on his face like a child about to be told a story. "Are you new to the whole cyberspace game?"

Tali mumbled something angrily as she handed the 50 platinum over. Then, she answered the question: "I've seen the concept before in a couple of bad vids. I always thought it was an unrealistic depiction of what actual hackers did... what is it, exactly? Some kind of VR simulation system?"

"Not quite, sweetie." said Beta. "Alpha, take it away!"

"Cyberspace is basically a consensual hallucination between the operator (that would be you) and the machine. You enter an altered state of awareness through drugs, then electrodes stuck close to the Occipital and Temporal lobes input information from the computer (that is, your cyberdeck). Your mind interprets the data and builds a virtual world as an interface to interact with the deck's OS and whatever network it is connected to, legally or otherwise."

"The main advantage of this," continued Beta, "in lieu of using a VI with macros, is that the brain's perception of time is altered so that the operator can match the speed of any ICE that gets sent his way and with ZERO delay from any other kind of input device, like a haptic keyboard."

"It sounds like a Dream Catcher," said Tali.

"Dream Catcher's based on Cyberspace tech, actually," said Beta. "Only it's designed for dreams, and you can't interact with any system other than the bed."

"And Arcadia is as close as we've gotten to a Matrix: a _shared_ consensual hallucination. You know, like in the movies?"

"Wait, how come cyberspace tech isn't more common?" asked Tali.

"A few reasons," said Beta.

"One: a cyberdeck operator is a nightmare on any security system, so there's plenty of motives to legislate against them."

"Second: Every operator's interpretation of cyberspace is different, especially when drugs are involved. It makes creating a common environment in which operators can communicate nearly impossible.

"Three: not everyone's brains are compatible with the tech. Some folks see nothing. Others go nuts. They won't know until they try."

"...Wait." Tali was a bit confused. "Shouldn't the second problem apply to Arcadia as well?"

Both Alpha and Beta scratched their heads. "Well, yes, actually." said Beta.

"We've been trying to figure out how Arcadia does it for years." said Alpha. "All we got are theories."

"We think they've got some kind of central regulating system keeping all of the Dreams compatible with each other... but we've been trying to hack into it for years. Haven't succeeded."

"Mostly because we can't find it."

Tali thought that was very interesting, and that she should probably share this with the rest of the group. She checked her clock: she had been here about... forty-five minutes.

"Uh oh," muttered Tali. "I should go, Spooky is waiting for me."

"Oh! Before we forget!" Alpha produced a Blue pill, a solid, opaque octagon. "Spooky will need this to get into the proper state of mind to surf cyberspace. Make sure he eats it."

"And if he needs to wake up in a hurry," Beta produced a red pill, a transparent soft gel shell containing a liquid, make sure he drinks this, otherwise he'll be blitzed for hours."

**"And no alcohol!"** they warned in unison.

They put the pills in Tali's hands, and she pocketed them immediately. Beta handed her another pill, a purple one. "And that's for you, darling. If you ever want to try riding cowgirl on the Ono-Sendai, that dextro mixture will send you there express."

"Um... thanks?" said Tali, unsure if she wanted to try it or not.

"Wait! I know exactly what your outfit needs!" shouted Beta out of nowhere. He ran — no, _floated —_ his way towards a box of spare parts, and produced a pair of huge headphones. He put it on Tali's head, right on top of her helmet and her pink cloth hood. Beta _squee'd, _like a mother seeing her young daughter in a dress for the first time.

"eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee it's PERFECT! oh em gee oh em gee just look at her!"

"Settle down, honey, the girl needs to be on her way!"

"Aw..." Beta pouted. "You never let me have any fun..."

"And uh... before you go, can you do us a favor?" asked Alpha, his huge black almond-shaped eyes hiding an expression of sorrow.

"I suppose," said Tali.

"...Tell him that it wasn't his fault."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"This is all your fault, you know that?" shouted Jensen.<p>

"Hey, how was I supposed to know he was a cop?!" Spooky shouted right back.

Spooky and Jensen had leapt behind the counter of _Phong's Tasty Noodles_ as the two mechs flanking Baofu fired at them. Thankfully, the mech's Renaud-Kerbrat SMGs were using beanbag rounds, and the thick mahogany barrier kept the two agents from being hammered down into submission at 1500 rounds per minute.

The bursts of fire caused the rest of the customers to panic and disperse, much to Jensen's relief. Hopefully, no innocent bystanders would get caught in the crossfire. Of course, the panic meant that the SSC would be coming soon, guns blazing.

_One week, _Jensen thought to himself._ Just one week I'd like to go without someone shooting at me. Just. One. Week._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's Notes: So yeah, big chapters are coming back. Hurray! No Codex Entries this time around: every new bit of tech got a fair amount of exposition in the chapter already. Unless I missed something? Hm...<br>**_

_**Liathach is the name of one of the Torridon Hills that surround the village of Torridon, Scotland.**_

_**Yamaha GX1, Synton Fenix, Roland TR-707, and Serge Modular are actually music synthesizers used by Aphex Twin, not computers.  
><strong>_

_**Spellcheck by WarpObscura (of Spacebattles) and Vandenbz  
><strong>_


	38. Chapter 34: The Dream Machine part 6

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 34: The Dream Machine part 6**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Wreav is voiced by Jason Momoa**_

_**... although if you have someone else in mind for the role, that's okay too.**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Early notes: **I drew the Durendal! You can see the full color image on the fic's Spacebattles thread, or on my DeviantArt account: Just look up 'USSV Durendal' and you'll find the pic._

_I apparently failed to convey this in earlier chapters, but Brea sculpted Jensen's face to appear like Basch Fon Rosenberg. Hairstyle, hair, skintone, everything._

_Spell check by WarpObscura. He's doing it live!  
><em>

_More spell check by Vandenbz.  
><em>

_French translations are available at the end of the chapter._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[ Homeworld Soundtrack - Kharak System ]<em>

_**Noveria - High Orbit**_

With the VIP shuttle successfully escorted, Zoller and Taggart set their _Endymion_ fighters for a direct course towards NAV 2, close to the cold world's moon.

_"So, laddie, how about we take a little detour?"_ asked Taggart over the wireless.

_"Where to, sir?"_ replied Zoller.

_"Hm... let's go and meet the Durendal. I always wondered what that ship looked like up close."_

_"Are you sure, sir? Captain Segal's orders were to observe."_

_"Aye, observe. Didn't say from how far, or that we couldn't say hello, now did he?"_

_"...I suppose not, sir."_

It did not take them long to approach the dark hull of the failed prototype of the Stealth Cruiser concept. Just as it appeared on sensors, Taggart hailed them, declaring his intentions.

_"USSV Durendal, this is Alpha One from the Acheron, please respond, over."_

_"Alpha One, this is the Durendal,"_ replied an American man with a somewhat nasal voice. _"I've got you on my scopes. What are your intentions? Over."_

_"Durendal, Alpha One. Just wanted to show the new meat a fine example of Yank military overspending. We mean ye no harm, over."_

_"Heheh... Alpha One, Durendal. You're welcome to look... but no touching, over."_

_"Roger that, no sensors allowed."_

Zoller and Taggart flew in and put their fighters in a 300 meter radius orbit around the dark german grey vessel, their engine trails forming rings around it. Zoller observed the ship: its lines were typically american, all angular plates and industrial sensibilities.

It also appeared... modular. Its main hull was shaped like a thick, wide broadsword, and under it was mounted a Kunde Transportation cargo pod, painted a bright orange. Bolted on the vessel's nacelles were four Diable Avionics VX-800 plasma drives, powerful but outdated pieces of engineering no doubt picked up for cheap at an auction. The nacelles were also serving as a hard-point for two long _Blitzstrahl_ 800mm Gauss cannons, relics from the Luna War, each of them protected by long whipple shields mounted on mechanical arms. Said shield plates bore the logo of the United States' Space Navy, an eagle with a large halo, flanked by two stars.

_"Scheiße!"_ said Zoller on the open channel._ "This ship is an outdated piece of junk!"_

_"I could say the same about your Endymions,"_ said another American on the channel. His voice wasn't quite as nasal. _"Will Europe ever finish the Astraea, I wonder?"_

_"Hein!"_ exclaimed Taggart. "The madman of Shanxi!_ I haven't seen ye since you dropped in that Tatou Recon Wanzer from low orbit to save Harper's arse!"_

"I do believe you owe me a bottle of scotch for that stunt."

_"Aye, so I do... I see that you're still riding in that useless tub. Been meaning to ask, why did ye name it after a bloody french sword?"_

_"Figured I would name it after a sword, what with the shape and all. Of course, you Union jerks took Excalibur already. Figured I'd steal another name from you."_

Taggart laughed. _"Well, as much as I would love to stay and catch up on old times, I've got a pup to raise. Speaking of which, have you heard the news? Freeport S9 was destroyed by the Geth. No known survivors."_

_"You don't say?"_

_"Aye. So be careful. There's no telling what dangers lurk out here."_

_"Same to you, old friend. Durendal out."_

Taggart and Zoller switched to their own wireless frequency.

_"The Madman of Shanxi?"_ asked Zoller.

_"Aye. Edgar Hein spearheaded the groundside operations by dropping in a Tatou and taking out a couple of Turian anti-orbital laser emplacements. After that, he harrassed the birds with constant hit and runs... after 12 hours, Arterius had sent about a third of his vehicles after him."_

_"...He achieved this with a Tatou? That's impossible! Those things aren't made for assaults, or protacted battles!"_

_"It's why me and me mates called him the Madman. Fights like a crazy person, he does. Harder and nastier in a light Wanzer than any of us in a medium or heavy. Alright, enough of that, now. Set a course to the moon, then accelerate to 60 klicks per second. By the time we arrive, Hermes will have your surprise ready."_

Zoller did as commanded, and cut his engines, letting the inertia take him to the moon. He wasn't stupid; he knew he was being tested. After all, most of his experience had come from VR training, and seasoned pilots had nothing but scorn for the _pups _with little real flight experience. They wanted him to prove himself worthy, references and accolades be damned.

Right now, they were testing his patience: The Endymion had enough fuel efficiency to accelerate to a tenth of light speed and still have enough for a dogfight. They could have reached the moon in seconds. As it were, they would reach it in an hour and twenty minutes. A test of patience, to see how long he could stand in the cockpit, doing nothing but watch readouts, without so much as a complaint.

To Taggart's approval, the boy did not complain.

Waiting for them at NAV 2 was a _Palaemonius _utility heavy corvette, and a few dozen cylindrical targeting drones painted burnt orange with white stripes. The cylinders split in four, and opened up. Glowing plates of Omni-Gel expanded into place, forming octagonal bull's-eyes.

_"Goose to Alpha Wing," _said Hermes over the wireless. _"Welcome to our little gauntlet. Mister Zoller, this is where you prove you're worth that billion credit fighter you're piloting."_

_"Alpha 2 to Goose,"_ replied Zoller, trying not to sound too bored._ "I am ready. Setting weapons to simulation mode..."_

_"That won't be necessary, lad," _said Taggart._ "Those target drones are cheap. Also, it's never a good idea to be out in space with your pants down. Ye never know when space pirates might attack."_

_"Ready to get started?" _asked Hermes.

_"I am,"_ replied Zoller.

_"Alright, let's see how well you handle a Ragulka 45mm Gauss cannon..."_

One of the _Palaemonius'_ two orange cargo pods opened, and a rack of gunpods slid out. On the top half of the rack, the Ragulka's were mounted side by side, ready to be picked up."

_"... Ditch your Vulcan Gunpod, and take one of the cannons, oh and uh, I'm going to make things a bit more interesting."_

The _Palaemonius _began to spin, slowly.

_"Possible scenario: the corvette's dead in the water, and it is spinning out of control, but you need a fresh gunpod. Let's see how well you can pick it up."_

Zoller complied, and quickly set his Endymion in a synchronous orbit with the spinning corvette, constantly making adjustments with his vernier micro-thrusters. That was the easy part; the hard part would be doing that while manually controlling the Endymion's mechanical arm to pick up the gunpod.

Zoller succeeded on his first try.

_"Not bad, not bad,"_ commented Hermes. "Let's see how you handle a Gauss cannon against moving targets, shall we?"

Three of the drones engaged their thrusters and went into evasive maneuvers, and Zoller fired at all of them in quick succession. He missed all three of them, barely grazing their bull's-eyes.

_"Close, but no cigar, pup!" _said Taggart as he picked up a Wasp micro-missile gunpod.

_"Hold a moment," _said Zoller, a bit annoyed. _"I must recalibrate."_

_"Right, a likely story." _Hermes chuckled.

The Ragulka was a difficult weapon to aim, as Zoller was used to weapons with much faster muzzle velocity. Coilguns were favored by Einhander pilots due to their low recoil compared to railguns, but the problem with coilguns was that they needed larger, heavier slugs to make up for the diminishing returns caused by ferromagnetic saturation. As such, coilguns shots tended to have a much lower muzzle velocity than railgun shots. This was typically made up for by using High-Explosive ammo.

It was best to think of the Ragulka as a dumbfire rocket launcher.

The adjustments made, Zoller tried again, and hit each drone straight in the center at a range of 2 kilometers.

_"There. Much better,"_ said Zoller.

_"Well, you certainly took your sweet time,"_ commented Taggart.

_"I try to make every shot count, especially with Gauss weapons. There are only so many rounds in them."_

They tested other weapons after that. The next in line was the _Sonnenstrahl _1.12 gW UV laser gun. The real trick to using this gunpod was to keep the beam on target while firing long enough to blow through a hull. Against Hermes' drones, this proved more challenging, as their evasion settings were set to 'Random'. This challenged Zoller quite a bit, and more than a couple of times he mismanaged his coolant supply. After switching to another _Sonnenstrahl_ with a full OVO cell, Zoller had gotten used to the weapon, and completed the challenge.

Then came the _Ascalon _16mm railgun. The main challenge in using that gunpod was keeping the whole ship stable despite its considerable recoil. Since the weapon was slung under the ship, most of the recoil's force would be applied off the Endymion's center of gravity, and would send it spinning if the vernier thrusters weren't firing just right.

Hermes had upped the stakes by forcing Zoller to take down a dozen drones within a 45 second time limit, and bet some money to motivate him. Zoller felt like doing a bit of showboating, and shot the ninth target without compensating for the recoil. His ship spun, but he had lined up the rotation with a line formed by the last three drones. He fired off a three-shot burst, and all three 16mm tungsten-core steel slugs took a curved, four kilometer course towards their targets.

Bull's eye.

Bull's eye.

Bull's eye.

And so, Zoller was 2000 credits richer. He rolled his fighter and fired at the moon, letting the recoil put a stop to his fighter's spin.

_"Och, you bloody showoff, ye."_

_"The targeting computers help... a little."_

Hermes chuckled._ "Alright, let's see how well your craft withstood that little stunt... Okay, scanners report you've got some metal fatigue in the manipulator, but nothing to worry about now. We still have one more challenge for you, Zoller. Feeling up to it?"_

_"I am." _Though to be perfectly honest, Zoller was feeling a little ill from the spinning.

_"Good. I set up a trench run on the moon. There's a ravine that runs through half its equator. Sending you some Nav coordinates... okay, Nav 3 is where you start, Nav 4 is the finish line. Tag as many targets as you can, with whatever weapon you wish, even your Endymion's machine guns."_

_"Get them all and cross the finish line in the allotted time," said Taggart, "and we'll put ten thousand credits in your wallet. Fail, and you get latrine duty for a bloody year."_

_"Alright, mate, pick your gunpod."_

Since precision would be paramount, and any kind of recoil would no doubt send him crashing into the cliffs, Zoller's decision was simple.

_"I'll grab a fresh Sonnenstrahl."_ said Zoller_._

His fresh gunpod taken, Zoller set a course for Nav 3, with Taggart flying on his wing. Hermes had excused himself, saying that he needed to pick up all the junk Zoller had made.

A quick inertial cruise later, Alpha Wing hovered over the ravine. Zoller admired it for a bit, before realizing something strange.

_"How did this ravine form?"_ he asked. _"Was there water on the moon? Even if there were, then there wouldn't be enough gravity..."_

_"Who knows?"_ was Taggart's reply. _"My personal theory? Protheans did it."_

_"If the Protheans did it... how did they do it?"_

_"Maybe they tested some kind of tectonic bomb."_

_"Considering this moon has no tectonics... Mein Gott! How powerful were the Protheans, really?"_

_"Heh... It's just a theory lad, alright, get in position. I'll be keeping my cams on ye from above, making sure ye don't cheat or some such."_

_"...How could I possibly cheat?!"_

_Taggart simply chuckled as his fighter went into position above the canyon. "So, are ye ready to get the challenge started?"_

_"Ready, though for the record I just want to say that I am endangering a multi-million Euro machine on your orders, sir."_

_"Duly noted, ensign. Alright then! Ready? Set? Go!"_

The trench run started easily enough, and Zoller only needed to use his machine guns to take out the targets... but he discovered just what kind of sadistic bastard Hermes Smith really was within ten seconds of the run. Many of the targets were placed in such a way that required Zoller to fire his machine gun in one direction and his gunpod in the other. Some required him to shoot_ backwards. _It was almost as if he was being baited to use the Drive.

Zoller missed a couple of targets, and had to go back to take them out. Six precious seconds wasted.

_"Ye know, laddie, ye really should have just picked the Wasp pod. Or even a cluster gun. Would have made tagging the targets simpler, and you wouldn't have had to constantly fire your verniers to adjust."_

_"...I assumed I could only choose from the three long guns."_

_"Well, ye assumed wrong. Let that be a lesson to ye. Use whatever is at your disposal. It's like the Americans say: Overspecialize and you invite disaster."_

But Zoller was not going to give up so easily. _"I have a better saying. He who tries to master everything masters nothing."_ He redoubled his efforts, pushed himself even harder even with his handicap. He had made it half-way through the run with more than enough time to spare. By then, they had crossed into the dark side of the moon.

Taggart spoke again, his voiced hushed.

"Lad, slam on the anchors, and set your power systems to stealth mode, and maintain radio silence."

"But..."

"Just do it, that's an order!"

Zoller did as he was told and came to a complete stop, and waited for further orders. Had he done something wrong? Taggart's Endymion moved in next to Zoller's using its verniers instead of its main engines, and sent the young pilot a laser morse in one of his cams, setting up a discreet, low emissions comm channel.

_"Look up, laddie."_

Zoller set one of this cams to look up in relation to the surface of the moon, and thought he caught a glimpse of something. He zoomed in by a factor of three: Seven klicks from the surface of the nameless moon, there was a trio of fighters, metallic and shaped like some kind of predatory insect.

_"Oh... Oh Scheiße!"_

_"Aye, that's the right word. Say hello to the Geth's idea of a fighter. We codenamed these bastards 'GF-00 Mantis'."_

_"I can see why..." _replied Zoller. He held his breath, and kept his_ Sonnenstrahl_ aimed at them. Any time now, they would turn and attack them, and he would be ready.

Two minutes, and they had yet to attack. Zoller relaxed a bit.

_"They're not moving in to intercept us. We have the element of surprise on our side! Should we not engage?"_

_"Wait a tad... from what we know of the Geth, they're rarely so few in number. Scan around; your IMREC should be able to spot more of their ships."_

They both had their cameras comb the starry sky, and for a five minutes, they came up with nothing. Zoller was about to suggest they attack again, only for the IMREC to highlight another flight of Mantises. Then another. And then another. And then a dozen more. Suddenly, Zoller wasn't so eager for a fight anymore.

_"Bloody. Hell. It's just like our last encounter. It's true what they say about the Geth: where there's one, there's a thousand."_

_"Wait... there's more."_

Coming into view was a sizable group of larger vessels. The IMREC VIs counted twelve dropships, twenty assault frigates, and eight fighter maintenance frigates. At the center of their formation was a bulbous mass of junk, its volume easily twice as large as the Acheron, its hull a checkered pattern of various shades of steel and rust. Parts of its armor had been torn to make it appear like a snarling beast, and sharpened beams formed teeth and horns.

And it had lots of guns. All of its turrets were made of a gleaming dark metal, their elegance clashing with the rough, junky parts of the rest of the ship.

Zoller gulped. _"I've read about those on the extra-net. It's a Krogan Battle Barge... Heavy Cruiser displacement. It probably carries thousands of Krogan Warriors..."_

_"Shite, they're planning to attack Noveria."_

_"Does that mean that the Krogan have thrown their lot with the machines?"_

_"Don't concern yourself with that right now. We have to warn the Acheron."_

_"But we've got a whole moon between us and them..."_

_"I know." Going full burn out of the dark side of the moon would light them up like flares, and they would be swarmed immediately. That left them with one option. "...alright, stay in stealth mode, we're going to follow the trench back out using our verniers. Hopefully, the gas emissions will blend in with the moon's surface and they won't spot us. Let's go."_

_"Aye-aye, sir."_

_Ten minutes. Ten minutes, and they had not even crossed a tenth of the way. Zoller's nerves were beginning to fray. Any second now, the Geth would pick up his gas trail, and they would attack and—_

_"Yer breathin' too hard, laddie." _

_"I know, I'm sorry."_

_"Relax, I'll get you home safe and— shite, hug the wall!"_

A frigate passed over them not even 200 meters above the surface of the moon. It moved slowly, its searchlights moving over the rocks, as if looking for something.

_"Stay calm," ordered Taggart._

_"Sir, if they look out the window..."_

_"They don't have windows. See?"_

_"But they do have cams!"_

_"We're just rocks to them. Stay. Calm."_

_"We should attack and make a run for it."_

_"Laddie, you power up and they'll definitely kill us!"_

_"But—"_

A searchlight cast its light near Zoller.

_"Sir!"_

_"Stay calm..."_

It was moving closer.

_"They're going to see us!"_

_"Stay calm, blast you!"_

It was moving closer still.

[ Macross Zero OST - Sky Shine ]

Zoller powered up immediately, and scanned the Geth assault frigate. He quickly identified its power reactor, and that was the first thing to be pierced by the laser.

_"Lad, no!"_

Next came the heat sinks, and just like that, Zoller had crippled his first Geth frigate. His celebration was cut short when the sensor globe on his HUD showed him thirty red blips coming in fast. The Geth response was immediate. Zoller and Taggart went as fast down the trench as possible. The Geth frigate attempted to fire its guns on them, only for the entire ship to overheat, and shut down.

_"Bloody hell, boy! We're in for it now!"_

_"They were going to find us! I had to act!"_

_"We'll talk about your cock-up later! We've got Mantises coming from above, 12 of them!"_

_"I see them!"_

The twelve mantises attempted to fire on the Endymion fighters with their white-light lasers. Their aim was perfect, however, the silvery hull of the European super-fighters reflected and scattered a full electromagnetic spectrum in response, throwing off the Geth fighters' locks. They quickly adapted by reconfiguring their lasers to fire strictly in the infrared spectrum, but they could not heat up either of the Terran hulls fast enough to kill them before Zoller shot them down with an invisible lance of light. He hit one of the Geth Mantises in its primary optical sensor, and as it died a flash of purple was burned in its memory as its processes transferred out of the ship.

_"And that's 13 bogeys down!" _Zoller declared, his tone celebratory. Coolant flushed through the laser cannon, and six streams of hot gas vented from the sides of the gun.

_"Well, excuse me for not throwing you a bloody party, but they're trying to chase us in the trench, now!"_

True enough, the second Geth wave, now wary of Zoller's beam weapon, decided to use the treacherous, serpentine corridor of rock as cover and concealment from him. They got close, close enough to start firing their machine guns at him. He took evasive maneuvers, but he had little opportunity to fire back. Taggart took action by rising high above the ravine, getting multiple locks on each of the Geth fighters, and letting loose 42 micro-missiles.

_"Welcome to my hellish circus, ye soulless bastards!"_

42 white streams lanced out of the Wasp pod, and each made their way towards the nine Geth fighters Zoller had not managed to kill. Three exploded almost immediately, while the other six attempted to evade. One crashed, and five made a good show of dodging the missiles. Wasp missiles, as they found out, were tenacious bastards, and they eventually exploded as well.

Taggart rejoined Zoller. _"We're almost out of the dark side."_

_"The Geth fighters are... retreating. Ha! That's right, RUN you synthetic cowards!"_

_"Machines don't feel fear, boy! Something's wrong."_

_"We've got a direct line of transmission to the Acheron!"_

_"Good. Acheron, this is Alpha One! We are under attack by a Geth carrier group! Please respond, over!"_

Static. Goddamn it, did Taggart hate static.

_"Acheron, Alpha One! We are engaged with enemy Geth fighters, do you copy?!"_

Static.

Then, came a roaring, belly laugh.

_**"I am afraid your mothership won't be replying to your MEWLING anytime soon."**_

Ahead of them was a box canyon, and at the center a Geth heavy corvette — easily twice as large as the _Palaemonius —_ was waiting for them. It was wide, and bulbous, and painted in a red and white paint scheme. Its stripes were splotchy and messy, like tribal paint. Hexagonal hatches were all over its back, like a beehive. It had two pods in front of it, like two crab claws put up in defense. A single glowing optic shone out of a menacing slit at the top center of its hull.

Zoller and Taggart came to a complete stop, then quickly shot up into the sky, as the geth corvette fired a swarm of glowing projectiles at them, leaving pockets of Snowblind chaff behind. Their acceleration was slow, far too slow, and they were going at full burn.

The missiles exploded right behind them, and the Endymion fighters shook from the blasts.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside the cockpit of the <em>Athjahakar, <em>which had more than enough room for the Krogan Warlord and the two Operator Platforms, Wreav grinned as the two Terran fighters — such worthy enemies! — tried to flee from the custom craft the Geth had built for him. He had specified that they build the ship around the ideals of the Krogan horde, summed very well with the words Power, Resilience, and Numberless. They had not disappointed him.

They had added another feature, as well. The heavy craft was built around a spherical device that not only doubled as the ship's Eezo core, but also functioned as some sort of 'gravity interdiction field'. The science was beyond Wreav, of course. All he needed to know is that these fighters would not escape him so easily.

"The Interdiction field is holding and working at full capacity." reported one of the Geth platforms as holograms from its console hovered around it. "They cannot lighten their mass."

"Excellent," said Wreav with satisfaction. This was going to end in blood, one way or another. "Chase after them." He cleared his throat, and spoke into the mic to taunt the humans. "The reason the Geth are retreating, humans, is because I want you all to myself. You can't... _imagine_ the torture that is to wait for some spy to report in while you're just sitting there in the dark with a fleet ready for battle."

Wreav huffed, grabbed hold of the ship's controls, and turned to one of the Operators. "Launch the drones."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What is happening?!" screamed Zoller over the wireless. "We shouldn't be accelerating so slowly!"<p>

"Just keep it up! We need to get away from their signal jammer! But first..."

Taggart launched a flare, and hoped that someone, anyone, within one light second would be able to pick up the burst of EM radiation. That hope quickly died when a small beam of light shot the flare out, cutting the call for aid short.

It came from a small drone, the shape of a metallic eyeball with a glowing red iris. It fired its laser at him, forcing him into a dogfight and cutting his acceleration short. To his horror, there were maybe fifty more of the blasted things joining in the melee. Taggart readied another salvo from the wasp, and managed to take down twelve of the drones. Taggart had only one salvo left, and then all he would have would be his machine guns and the two eight-packs of Javelin IR missiles.

_**"Nicely done!" **_The Krogan laughed, and Taggart could hear clapping noises through the wireless._ **"Where was I? Ah yes, and then, you two come along and tear up my fighters, brightening my entire day."**_

Zoller fared better with his laser gun, but it wouldn't be long before he would run out of coolant, or his OVO Cell would dry up, or both. Taggart became swarmed again, and fired his last salvo before letting go of the pod. This salvo fared better, as thirty missiles found their marks. But that still left around 30 drones, and they had the Endymions surrounded.

Zoller and Taggart dodged and weaved through red beams, their shields slowly dropping. The strain on their bodies was almost unbearable, as the inertial compensators were not functioning properly anymore.

_**"That's right, keep evading, waste your precious fuel!"**_

_"I'm surrounded!" _shouted Zoller. _"I —urk!— I don't know how much more I can take!"_

_"Come on, boy! We're almost there, we just need to break through!"_

_"There's three behind me! I can't shake them!"_

_"Don't panic! I got them!"_ Taggart locked with three Javelin IR missiles, and the drones were destroyed.

_"Come on, just a little further! We're going to make it!" _Even as he said it, Taggart was not truly certain they could drag that Geth corvette into the light where it could get spotted by someone. Their fuel had dropped below thirty percent, and there was no telling what other surprises the Geth had in store for them.

But bloody hell if Taggart was going to surrender to an overgrown frog. It'd be worse then surrendering to the _french, _he thought.

The Heavy Corvette was right on top of them, now.

_**"And now, you're all mine. Fight hard, Terran. I hunger for a good fight."**_

And its cluster flak guns opened fire.

_**"HAH! Just kidding, I just want you to DIE."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[ The Crow original Soundtrack — Her eyes... so innocent ]<strong>_

On the third floor of an abandoned warehouse on the edge of Middle Dosadi, away from prying eyes, there was a lodging. It was built from a converted office, meant to seat at least ten people comfortably so that they could stare at computer screens that sucked the very soul out of their existence for a half-decent monthly wage. Rice paper partitions set boundaries: living room, dining room, bedroom. It was barely illuminated, with warm lamps that favored yellows and oranges, setting off the dark red of silk sheets covering a wall. On the edge of a king-sized bed made of programmable, adaptive foam framed in black steel sat Jules Kai Leng, wearing little else than a black silk bath robe.

There was an electric guitar leaning against the far wall.

There was a woman on the bed, naked and still, her skin perfect and unmarked.

There was a camera mounted on a tripod nearby.

In the only thing that could be considered a separate room, walled off with ferrous concrete, was a bathroom, decorated in an old Victorian style. Steam came out from the open door, and Jules, should he have looked up, would have seen his sister, completely naked in the open shower, her mechanical limbs glistening as three sprays of water cleaned her body. He would have seen rivulets of water trickle down her tattooed back, seen the red and black inks of a red raven and a skeletal bird forming an X as she parted her long jet black hair.

Leng did not look up, as he was focused on something else, something his father gave him for his eighteenth birthday.

Red Raven stepped out of the bathroom, barely dry; her own black bathrobe was open, exposing her cleavage, belly, and a shaved mons pubis.

Leng looked up, and pulled her into a hug, burying his face in her stomach. She felt warm, the heat of the hot shower having not yet bled out of her body. She wrapped her arms around his head, and rubbed his hair.

Leng breathed deep, and sighed. "You should still be in bed." He faked concern for her. Kai Leng couldn't feel much of anything, much less concern for someone else, but his sister was special to him, and she deserved for him to at least try.

"Scholar's people do magnificent work." she said. "My body is healed, and my mind is unscathed. If anything, the experience of being broken in a hundred pieces felt... wonderful. I look forward to encountering Jensen again."

If there was one thing Leng could feel, it was jealousy, but that faded away along with the warmth of Red Raven's skin, with every stroke of her hand on his hair.

"You sure it was him?"

"Certain. I remember him from New York, and so should you." She rubbed the chitinous shoulder of his replacement arm. "He left his mark on you as he woke from his coffin."

_..._

_"You told me he was dead!" screamed Leng. _

_"I don't... I don't understand..." muttered Dr Dawson._

_And then Jensen punched his way out of the tank, panting, cold, and confused._

_Leng tried to kill him._

_All he did was make Adam mad._

_..._

"Yeah... I remember."

"Will you tell Scholar?"

"No."

They stayed like this for a while longer, until Red Raven took note of the snow globe in Leng's hand.

"Your thoughts dwell on our father."

"Yeah." He pulled away from her.

Their father's name was Shan Yu Leng, a disgraced Coalition general in exile to Europe, sheltered by the European Union in exchange for intel. He had made a fortune capitalizing on a bizarre fascination with his written meditations on death and depraved torture. He was rich, famous, and handsome, and had unspeakable appetites more than a few women fascinated by his writings had been willing to indulge. Jules' mother, a franco-algerian college student, had been one such woman. Red Raven's mother, a painter with a taste for the macabre, had been another. Their names? It didn't matter. All that mattered to Shan Yu has been their fertile wombs, and the legacy they could give him.

Shan Yu Leng believed in two things: That a real man was a killer, and that pain was good for the soul. When Jules had been diagnosed with congenital analgesia, he had been considered anathema to the latter belief, and Shan Yu had his mother murdered for the affront to his genes. As for the six month old Jules? He was thrown to the streets of a Souq in Paris. Leng remembered the sounds his father had made then, just before the roar of an engine, and years later managed to translate them.

_"Let the filthy Arab scum have him."_

At the age of twelve, Leng found out who his father was, and a hunger for approval and acceptance had woken in him.

He had read his father's books and, twisted by years of being unable to connect to another human being or even understanding why they cried or screamed, came to the conclusion that his adopted family needed to die.

That hadn't been enough to impress Shan Yu. _"You killed them in their sleep. Try me, and understand what a true killer is."_ And so, Kai Leng found himself right back where he had started, on the very same street he had been dumped on twelve years ago, only with a hundred fractures and one nasty cut on his forehead, belly, chest and legs. He felt nothing except rage at the realization that he was weak, a pitiable creature meant to be coddled by nurses and doctors.

_Never again_, Leng swore in his hospital belt. He would recover, he would become a better killer. After six years of backpacking across Europe and Asia, he had succeeded.

"I remember the day he gave me this. It was after my journey was done."

"Your quest for his notice and approval."

"Yeah. Six fucking years. Six years of learning to become a killer, for him to look upon me and tell me how proud he was. And he was proud. I know he was. He gave me this." Leng held up the snowglobe. It was a perfect orb, and inside it was a tiny, perfect replica of Zhao Mo's burial suit, flanked by terracotta guards. A shake, and silver snowflakes fell on their shoulders. "And that's when he tried to kill me."

"He _tried._ And here you are."

"Yeah, here I am." Kai Leng took a deep breath. "How was it for you? You never speak of him much."

Red Raven had been everything Shan Yu could have asked, and more. For she had the Gift, and that was something Shan Yu had even stranger philosophies on. The day she was born, he had the Red Raven tattooed on her back, a baptism of pain through needle and ink. As she grew, the Tattoo warped, and had to be redone every few years.

There was no school for Red Raven. Only drugs, and a simulated reality meant to expand her understanding of the universe. It was a failure. Shan Yu knew nothing of the Void, and could teach her nothing.

Only the Idol he possessed had whispered wisdom to her. It was a shame it was gone, now, sold to the highest bidder.

"I barely knew he existed, until you came along. Do not dwell on him, for he is dead and we are not."

"...Right."

An eager smile crept on her face. "...Is she asleep?"

Leng turned around, and rolled the still body of Gianna Parasini. Her eyes were dead, and glassy, staring at nothing. The mycotoxin had finally done its job, and now there was nothing left inside her mind. But that was okay: Leng wasn't all that interested in her head. That was more Raven's thing.

"I think you broke her."

"She breathes still," said Red Raven as she crept over Parasini's still form, and stared into her eyes. "I see the myriad ways her life could have gone. A red-maned Lunarian man sells her out to a lizard. A blue-eyed black woman aids her in her quest, and they meet once again as friends. That person... so much like the wolf, and so much like the woodsman, all at once..."

"Yeah, well, that man-slash-woman never came along when I caught her with her hands deep in Scholar's cookie jar," he chuckled. "Oops. It's a shame we could never figure out who she worked for."

"She did not know herself." Raven lowered her face close to Parasini's, she touched the eyelids, and then her claws came out of her glossy, black, mechanical fingertips. "I want to keep them, before the pretty lights die."

"Hold on, those things are made to tear. You need something sharper for a clean cut."

Leng put the snowglobe on the nightstand and picked up his pack of cigarettes. He lit one up and put it in his mouth as he got up, and walked up to a man-sized brushed steel cabinet with all the charms of an iron maiden. He opened it to reveal his collection of bladed weapons.

Like all teenagers, Leng once had a obsessive fascination with the katana, believing it to be the ultimate melee weapon. That obsession had quickly ended when the man in the blue coat had sliced off his fingers with a Jian, of which there were ten in the cabinet, all of them with fine lacquered scabbards. Looking back, Leng should have had more respect for the weapon of his ancestors from the very beginning, which eventually led him to the french rapier (of which there were five in the cabinet) and then the saif (of which there were eight)... but that was not the end of Leng's journey.

His journey had ended in India, when he had learned of Kalaripayattu. Master Simhalan had shown him that the best way to kill a man (or an animal, or an alien) was with a knife... of which, there was only one in the cabinet, a curved piece of sharpened obsidian sandwiched between two layers of ivory carved into flowers. It had been a graduation present. Simhalan had gurgled out her congratulations (or a curse on Leng's family, it was hard to tell on account of her throat being slit).

Leng handed his favourite blade to Red Raven, and lay himself down on the comfortable foam to watch her work. He loved to watch her work: Raven had her mother's soul, and there was no one better at carving flesh than her.

The phone rang. It was Scholar.

"Scholar? I'm a little busy, here."

_"It's important. We have a skinjob on today's schedule."_

"No shit? Who?"

Parasini twitched.

_"Elsa Devereaux."_

"Ah. You think Lawson's going to be happy with that?"

_"For a while, at least. It will buy me some time. Although... her captain just made the terrible mistake of trying to bribe Donna Morgan in a ham-fisted attempt to not leave too big of a digital footprint in Dosadi and... I'm not pleased with that development. I had hoped she would be more... morally flexible."_

Parasini bled to death.

"Really? That's good to know. When can I expect Morgan all wrapped up at my doorstep?"

If this call hadn't been voice-only, Leng would have seen Scholar roll his eyes. _"She's probably just making a show of it for her men. Once we're done with Peak 15, then... maybe. Put together a security detail, and go get Devereaux and her entourage out of their cells. We work before we play, Leng."_

"Right, I'll be right there," he lied as he hung up the phone. Leng was more of a pleasure before business kind of guy. Why should he deny himself? After all, Ramsus was no doubt indulging his own sick appetites at this very moment.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Parade's End OST - Lost in the Fog]<strong>_

_Something felt... right about this place._

_The gray void smelled like fresh cut grass, and the song of birds echoed through the trees. As Johann wandered, he looked down at his feet, and saw a bed of red orchids past the fog. He recognized their scent immediately._

_Yes, Johann had been in this garden: he had played here with her, before their grandfather had called them for supper, then asked the young Johann to make a terrible decision._

_"Call it," he had said, his hand flat against the table._

_Johann stood in the fog in full gear, his sense of direction completely confused. He had no idea where he was, or how to find her. And he **needed** to find her: he had so few loves left in his life._

_"Where are you?" he heard a small voice call out._

_"Annah?" Johann called out, his voice full of hope. "Are you there?"_

_No answer._

_"Can you make some noise? Let me know where you are?"_

_No answer... until, finally he could hear her sing:_

_"London Bridge is falling down... falling down..."_

_Johann smiled, and followed Annah's voice until he came upon a tree. Its bark was a glimmering midnight black with a blue sheen, its leaves were a bright shade of red that cast a red aura in the fog._

_Spirals were carved onto it._

_Within a hollow in the trunk, formed by two thick roots, Johann found Annah, sitting in the shadows, her knees to her chin, a clockwork knight the size of a doll in her left hand. He knelt at the opening._

_"Annah, it's me..." he whispered, his deep voice soft. "...Don't you remember me?"_

_Annah said nothing, and kept singing._

_"How will we burn it down, burn it down, burn it down... How will we burn it down...?"_

_"...My Fair Lady," Johann finished the song, and reached out to her. "Take my hand! Let us leave this place, the stars await us..."_

_"You can't save me," she finally said, and stared at Johann with empty sockets. The void in them became an enveloping darkness, and in that darkness he saw Him._

_Annah screamed._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Peak 15 - Special Lab - Core<strong>_

_"No...!" _Johann awoke in his prison of ice, his naked body stuck in a fetal position. Outside the prison, he could feel his Omar minders scurry about with the fresh data he had provided them, like ants over a cube of sugar.

_"Contact with Subject Zero lasted 68 seconds,"_said one, transmitting wirelessly. They thought Johann couldn't hear them. They were wrong.

_"Excellent, that was twice as long as the last attempt," _said another. He recognized his mental stench. _Tartakovsky. _

While they discussed their findings, Johann 'sang' to the creatures that crawled all over Peak 15, trying to guide them here, so that they could tear those damnable drones apart and free him from this cage. It was no use. The way was shut.

_**"I know you can hear me, Tartakovsky."**_

Tartakovsky ignored the voice in his head; he was preoccupied with science, and how he could use it to further his own ambitions.

_**"This cage can't hold me forever, and when I am loose... I will ENJOY you, Tartakovsky, in ways you couldn't conceive in your own worst nightmares."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>An hour earlier - Middle Dosadi - <strong>_

_**[Soul Hackers OST - Boutique]**_

Kasumi dragged Jensen by the hand into _Cheri's, _a clothes boutique that Jensen felt ill at ease in: It was just too high-fashion, and looked far too rich for his blood. The floor and walls were made of a gray marble that seemed dark blue due to the lighting of the place. Clothes were worn by mannequins trapped in floating tubes made out of fluorescent red-violet glass.

"I... don't think they have anything for me here," said Jensen, feeling ill-at-ease.

"They have something for _everyone_," said Kasumi. "You can't go in there looking like a street hood. Taiwanese gangsters are just as obsessed about proper business wear as the Yaks. Hank barely passes with his cream-colored suit. You show up in a burnt-up hoodie, and the negotiations are _over_."

The sole saleswoman in the store, a pale, slender Venusian in a black business attire cut to show off her legs and modest cleavage, greeted them with a smile. A practiced one for Kasumi, but a more genuine one for Jensen... along with an appraising look with her golden eyes, their vertical slits widening as she looked at him from head to toe.

"_Ouh la la_, I think there's a lot of potential here," she said with a slight french accent, as she twisted a long lock of her mulberry colored hair around her slender finger.

"My tall friend here has a meeting with a Taiwanese businessman," said Kasumi meaningfully. "You know how they are..."

"...Ah, yes. Yes, I certainly do. Will you be paying in Platinum, then?"

"That we are."

Adam cleared his throat. "Could you uh, make sure my outfit isn't... _alive_?"

The saleswoman looked so disappointed. "Oh! And I just received this Venusian crab-suit that would have looked fantastic on you. Oh well."

Kasumi had picked out three outfits for him to try: one was a pale teal colored suit with a painted cubist pattern (which Jensen thought was a bit too much), another was a grey suit with a Bush Barrow Lozenge pattern (which Jensen thought was a bit boring), and finally there was a black suit with faint gold pinstriping. Its shoulders were printed with a pattern of wide circles traced with the same colored lines, like the scales of a fish, each the size of an optical disk. The pants matched perfectly, with the scale pattern at the hem of each pant leg.

After trying all three, Jensen went with the last one. The black suit readjusted itself to his frame, and looked like it had been made just for him.

"Good choice, monsieur," said the saleswoman.

"Aw, I wanted the blue one..." Kasumi pouted.

"I like to keep things simple."

"Oh well," Kasumi grinned like a cat. "Time to accessorize!"

After trying many, MANY items on his person, Jensen had opted for a dark blue and green cubist-pattern tie, black shoes, and some gold cufflinks. Said gold links would not cost him much: as it turned out, gold was a far more common metal throughout the rest of the galaxy than on Earth. Still worth a pretty penny, however.

"I'll wear these out. How much do I owe you?"

The whole outfit would cost him six hundred and seventy-five platinum. As he paid the woman, Jensen's curiosity got the better of him.

"I take it you are descended from gene-modified parents?" he asked, trying not to call her a mutant.

"You mean the eyes?" she answered as she set up the transaction. Physical currency had to be processed differently than simply plugging in a Nuyen stick, or a quick exchange through the Chip. "That is correct. As for the pallor, well... Venus' terraforming gasses tends to give one a pale complexion."

Before he could quiz her more about Venus, Spooky gave him a call.

_"We haven't got much time until the meeting, 'Jake'. You almost there?"_

_"Just dressing for success, 'Hank'. I'll meet you down at the floof soon enough."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kasumi drove Jensen to a part of the Floof separating Middle and Lower Dosadi called Pipe Town (due to all the visible plumbing). It was just 50 meters below the 'surface', but that had been enough to shield it from the holographic sunlight, casting the area in a perpetual evening dark enough for the bio-fluorescent tubes and OLED signs to glow brightly all day long. As Jensen got off, Spooky called again.<p>

_"I'm here, I'm here. Be patient, already."_

_"What? Oh, no, that's not it, I just got a call from Sparky. She's got my software. I told her to wait for someone to pick her up and take her home. It's not a good idea to get inside a Dosadi Taxi with what's in her pocket, you know?"_

_"Hold on, let me call 893, maybe he can come and pick her up."_

_"Hello?" _said the Omar as he appeared on the Codec screen_. "Ah, 'Jake', I'm at the meeting point."_

_"Is your friend's stuff still there?" _asked Jensen.

_"It is, and so is he. Asshole decided to sell the goods to a Fiera and a Krogan. Thought about sneaking in and just take the P90, but the Fiera just bought it."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a mostly deserted and partially flooded part of Middle Dosadi called 'Little Venice' (overdue for some renovation, apparently), Mjrn Katzroy — smuggler of things exotic, ancient, and slightly less than legal — felt the weight of the weapon. It was a small gunpowder-based weapon that required no electronics to operate. The way it should be, really. However, the specialized rounds the Lunarian was offering required a digital sight and rangefinder to get them to explode at the optimal distance to create maximum carnage.<p>

"What happens when the electronics get compromised?" she asked.

"Then the rounds hit the target." said the tall, skinny human as he seemed to float in front of Mjrn, his grav harness making pulses that gave her the shivers. "Of course, they won't do as much raw damage. Tell you what? Buy it now, and I'll throw in two spare clips as a bonus. That's a 150 rounds, total!"

"Hm..." Mjrn pondered the purchase. Jenkins and Vega had complained that their Lancer rifles just weren't going to cut it, and had begged Mjrn to get them something better. She thought the souped up antique was a bit pricey, but hey, it wasn't her money to spend. "I'll take it along with everything else."

'Everything else' included a 600 round drum for Bren, two suits of mercenary armor for the human boys, two Cicada machine pistols (with semi-auto option), spare ammo blocks, and a Mattock modded for full auto.

The transaction done, Mjrn picked up the cases containing the weapons, and silently watched as Wrex slung the drum over his back and picked up the two armor cases. They made their way back to the elevator that would take them back down to Middle Dosadi... provided the SSC goons there did not give them too much trouble. Then again, 'not being asked too many questions' was one of the perks of traveling with a big strong Krogan... male.

Mjrn laughed.

"What's so funny?" asked Wrex.

"Just thinking what my mother would say if she could see us." Mjrn put on her heaviest Dalmascan accent ever. "No, Mjrn, no! You do not tell the men to carry things for you! It is not done!"

Wrex chuckled, but then fell silent. Gender politics was not something he liked to talk about. In the early days of the genophage, they had gone completely to hell on Tuchanka. 'Fertile' females — that is, women with a 'good' track record of successful hatchings — suddenly used their wombs as political leverage, while the less lucky ones became little else than fuck holes. A lot of people were unhappy with the situation, and wars got started.

Wrex approached a different subject. "So why didn't you get Bren to carry this crap? It's his ammo, and he's stronger."

"Sure, but you Krogan have more... stamina."

Wrex's scarred eyebrow rose. "...Is that right?"

"Or so I've heard!" she laughed. "Still, I trust him with babysitting my kid a lot more than you. You Krogan get surly around kids, I noticed. Err... no offense."

"...Yeah. That we do."

"So! I've been wondering. Who would win in a fight between you and Bren?"

That seemed to cheer Wrex right up. "Heheheh... Bren and I had this argument all the time twenty years ago. The simple answer? It depends. Firefight or Melee?"

"Firefight."

"Who's got initiative?"

"...He does."

"Where's the fight taking place?"

"...Construction yard? Plenty of cover made of cement."

"Yeah, Bren would win."

"Wow, I didn't expect you to be that honest about it."

"Hey, I didn't get to be this old by being blinded by pride. You've seen his gun, right? That thing chews through cover. Soon as I'm out of it, Bren's 20mm slugs would rip my barrier apart and turn me into ground varren. And I favor shotguns: At his Vulcan's effective range, I might as well throw cotton candy for all the good that will do me."

"Okay, different scenario: Hand-to-hand combat, he's got initiative, and it is taking place in an arena."

"I would win."

"...I've seen Roegadyn toss Krogan around like rag dolls. I doubt you'd win."

"True, but those Krogan weren't me." Wrex glowed blue for a moment. "I've got Biotics, remember? I can match his mass and my punches can hit just as hard. That's where my staying power comes in. Now, if I had initiative, I'd kick him in the nuts, and then his skull is as good as pulped."

"Yeah, that's not gonna work."

"...He's a _guy_, of course it'll work... Unless I've been wrong about that the whole time. Awkward."

"Well, it'll hurt, but unless you've been whispering sweet-nothings in his ear for an hour, his genitals are going to stay perfectly protected inside his body, inside the shell."

"Oh. Wait, what?"

"Oh, you didn't know? Well, you see, Roegadyn penises aren't like your species' or mine. It's a great big, prehensile, translucent blue tentacle covered in mucus. It resides deep in the body, and the opening's protected by a shell."

"...What."

"It's true! Oh, and I knew this one guy I dated, he could turn it into his big bulbous flower, and..."

"Too much information."

Mjrn sighed wistfully. "...and by the Wood, those things feel _good_ inside of you. It's like getting massaged from the inside o—"

"Gah! Enough!"

Mjrn giggled. "Anyways, you'd have to kick really, REALLY hard to hurt it that way, and you're more likely to piss him off."

"I'll keep that in mind... Hey, wait a minute! Are you telling me that Bren's got..." he stifled a laugh. "Bren's got a man-gina?"

Mjrn tried not to laugh, and she was failing. "...Yeah, pretty much. I mean — hee hee!— it's covered by a shell, but—"

"Oh... ho ho ho! I am going to give Bren so much shit when we get back, mark my words."

Mjrn and Wrex had a good laugh for a minute as they walked side by side, until Mjrn's ears twitched and she immediately dropped one of the gun cases, drew one of her pistols, and pointed it at the top of a building. Wrex picked up on her galvanized nerves immediately, and scanned around with his eyes for enemies, his Executioner pistol in hand. He sniffed.

"I smell robot... amongst other things," he said.

"I know. Omar. He thinks I didn't see him."

"His scent is growing faint; I think we scared him."

"Yeah well, I think we'll keep alert for another tail, just the same."

"Smart. Lead the way."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Whew! That was close!" <em>said Drebin.

_"You okay?" _asked Jensen.

_"Yeah, I'll be fine, I think they didn't make me. Anyways, stealing from them is out of question. You just can't sneak up on a Fiera. Plus, they bought gear for two others, and I think they've got a Roegadyn friend in their base, from what I've heard. I'm headed home. Maybe I can whip up something decent for you. Brea's certainly got a collection of spare junk I can work with."_

_"Can you pick up Kaylee on the way?" _asked Spooky. _"She's currently waiting at an outdoors cafe at these coordinates."_

_"Pass, It's too far out of my way, and I need all the time I can get to get working."_

_"Fine. I'll send Goto over," said Jensen._

_"Cool, thanks."_

Jensen shut the call down and turned to Kasumi. "Goto, Kaylee needs a ride back to the apartment."

"Uh, you sure you want me to do it? That girl just... I mean she _really_ doesn't like me."

"Just don't chat with her about synthetic life and you'll do fine."

Kasumi winced, but couldn't think of a good reason to say no to Jensen. She sighed. "Okay, then. See you back at the den."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Phong's Tasty Noodles was a small eatery built out of a cargo pod set right next to a fairly busy street. Most of its clientele had to eat on some pieces of welded-together junk that passed for outdoors furniture. The grungy junk clashed with the attempt at giving the place an 'asian' feel with the little paper lamps and the Traditional Chinese script printed on the 'specials' board. Despite the terrible decor, Phong's noodles were actually pretty... well, <em>tasty<em>, and had a steady stream of customers throughout the day.

One such customer was a Taiwanese mafioso dressed in a suit much like Jensen's, only completely gold and with the large fish-scale pattern printed at the sleeves instead of the shoulders. His long black hair was combed straight and flat, and his eyes were covered with round black shades. He went by the name of Baofu, and was apparently an old friend of Spooky's from when he operated back on Earth. According to Spooky, Baofu always had the best kit and the best deals.

Jensen and Spooky were watching him from afar.

"Don't you think it's a little convenient you have a contact all the way out in Noveria?" asked Adam, a bit suspiciously.

"Hey, I keep in touch." Spooky shrugged. "It's part of the reason why I volunteered my services for this mission, remember? A lot of hackers like me fled out to the more prosperous colonies to escape the candy-coated juggernaut that was OZ."

"I don't know, I still think it's suspicious. Cyberdecks are hot commodities, aren't they?"

"Yep."

"I would have thought he'd want us to meet somewhere out of the way. Too many witnesses, here."

"A Deck isn't like a bag of Red Sand, Jensen. To the casual eye, it looks just like any other piece of electronic hardware."

"Where's his muscle? You would think a Taiwanese mafioso would have brought some."

"Hm... maybe the cyberdeck's hotter than I thought."

"Think he stole it from his fellow criminals?"

"...Possible." He took a puff of his cigarette, and Jensen resisted the urge to ask him for one. Damn, when was the last time he had a smoke?

"Still," Spooky continued, "it's worth the risk. Well, do you see any ambushes?"

Jensen had spent the last ten minutes trying to spot something or someone out of the ordinary. He scanned for wireless frequencies, looked for anyone that was loitering around for no good reason... nothing.

"No. But I still don't like it."

"Well, look, the whole deal with the gun fell through. Do you really want to make this 1 for 3? We have to do this. Trust me, the deck is worth the cash and the risk."

"Assuming, of course, that it's the real deal in that suitcase." Jensen sighed. "Okay, let's do this. But I'll be keeping an eye on the guy with my CASIE, if you don't mind."

"Hey, might as well. Look, trust me, I know traps, and this doesn't smell like one."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was, of course, a trap.<p>

Two Copley Mechs, painted in the red and black of Manticore, had sprung out of their hiding places (the garbage cans) the moment money exchanged hands and Spooky took possession of the Ono-Sendai. As for Baofu, he had believed he was who he said he was up until that very moment, fooling Jensen's CASIE throughout the entire negotiations. Then, suddenly, the memories of Corto Riviera, Manticore Agent, reasserted themselves.

Riviera grinned, and once the Copleys had their guns pressed against the back of Jensen and Spooky's heads, he said: "Guess what, you're under arrest."

The two men put their hands up.

...

_"Goto? Guess what?"_

_"It was a trap, wasn't it?"_

_"Yeah. Think you could..."_

_Goto sighed loudly. "We're on our way. Gimme five minutes."_

_..._

"Baofu, what the fuck?!" shouted Spooky. A crowd around them tried to form, but when the civilians realized it was a Manticore bust, they hurriedly walked away. The other customers at Phong's were nervous, and rose from their seats and backed away slowly, hoping that the Copleys would not attack them.

"Sorry," snickered Riviera. "We kinda burned the real Baofu out a while back, and now we're in need of another cyberjockey like you. Don't worry, we offer a _fantastic_ severance package."

Jensen immediately attempted to Breach the Copleys to command them to attack Baofu, only for one of them to detect his attempt. They went into autistic mode, and immediately recognized Adam as the more immediate threat. This gave Spooky an ample opportunity to grab the briefcase with the Ono-Sendai in it, smack 'Baofu' across the mouth with it, and run inside Phong's, intent on making his way out of the back door.

After throwing one of the Copleys into the other, Jensen was right behind him.

"Doesn't smell like one, he says! This is all your fault, you know that?!" shouted Jensen.

"Hey, how was I supposed to know he was a cop?!" Spooky shouted right back.

"Take cover!"

Spooky and Jensen leapt behind the counter as the two mechs flanking Riviera (all three of whom had quickly recovered) fired at them. Thankfully, the mechs' Renaud-Kerbrat SMGs were using beanbag rounds, and the thick mahogany barrier kept the two agents from being hammered down into submission at 1500 rounds per minute.

The bursts of loud, explosive gunfire caused the rest of the customers to panic and disperse, much to Jensen's relief. Hopefully, no innocent bystanders would get caught in the crossfire. Of course, the panic meant that the SSC would be coming soon, guns blazing.

_One week, _Jensen thought to himself._ Just one week I'd like to go without someone shooting at me. Just. One. Week._

"Hey, wait a minute!" Spooky shouted as he fired a Overload round from his Omni-Gun. It barely fazed the machines, but it did force the fake Baofu to take cover, and prevented him from calling for backup. "_You're_ the cop! You couldn't spot one lousy sting operation?!"

"You're the veteran criminal!" shouted Jensen as he fired his pistol at the mechs' heads. Their shields did not trigger: they were customized only to activate when the incoming rounds were judged potent enough to pierce the armor. Jensen's Carnifex barely put a dent on them. "Why couldn't _you_?!"

"Oh, har har! Let's just get out of here! The exit's right over—"

"We have to deal with those machines! They saw us!"

"Shit, Jensen, how do you suppose we deal with those things?! They got armor half as thick as my dick! And its—"

"Yeah, I get the joke, thanks!" Adam cursed under his breath. "Just give me a moment to—"

And that's when Jensen saw a vending machine.

"Hello, you."

Jensen leapt out of cover, letting his shield belt absorb a couple of hits. He grabbed the half-ton machine and used it as protection, and when the Copleys stopped to switch clips for some armor-piercing ammo, Jensen threw it at them with all his might. Both Manticore mechs were slammed away, though not destroyed. Jensen barely had time to savour his victory when a third Copley burst from a fatigued spot in the wall of the cargo-pod-turned-fast-food-joint and grabbed Jensen from behind, intent on snapping his neck.

Jensen reacted quickly, and threw it on the ground. His Smart-Vision quickly identified the central processor, and he attempted to stab it with his new arm blade. The sharpened strip of high-frequency metal was half way to the core before the Copley kicked Jensen in the head, and Adam's skull would have been cracked if he had not blocked the attack with his arm. It had still managed to knock him against the wall, and the Copley rose to catch Adam into a bear hug, intent on breaking his spine.

"Urk! Spooky! A little help!"

Spooky fired a small Cryo Blast at the grappling Copley's cubical, silvery head, and the sudden drop in temperature caused the wiring in its sensors to glitch out. It let go of Jensen, and Jensen gladly finished the job he had started with another stab of his HF blades.

The Copley died standing up.

Thinking fast, Jensen took the dead Copley's Renaud-Kerbrat, loaded a 55-round AP magazine, grabbed the mech as a shield, and approached the fallen Copleys. He fired at them, and their response was immediate: One activated a blue Omni-Shield that easily absorbed the shots, and the other stood behind the shield bearer, tearing up the machine Jensen was using as a shield. It was clear that in a shootout, neither group had the advantage.

"Enough of this crap!" Riviera shouted. "Robots! Go in hand-to-hand and bring me Spooky alive! Break his legs if you have to! And kill his fucking bodyguard!"

Suddenly four orange fireflies the size of a man's head whizzed around and surrounded the Copleys before they could put Baofu's orders into action. The glowing Drones fired their micro-flamethrowers at the Mechs, and while they were not in any risk of melting down any time soon, their heat sinks were starting to overheat.

One of the drones began to latch onto a Copley's head — The shield-bearer — and turned its flamer into a plasma torch. It tore into its optics.

Jensen reloaded the SMG's AP mag, and emptied it into one of the Mech's limbs, disabling it.

As the cyborg began to engage the other Copley in hand to hand and winning. Riviera let out a curse, and ran for it.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As Corto Riviera sprinted and shoved his way past a thick miasma of pedestrians, he wondered how things had gone so wrong: it was a simple bait and grab, an entrapment op. Have a legally ironclad reason to bring Hank Moody in by getting him to put his mitts on genuine hot goods, and then let the Copleys do the rest. As simple a plan as they come, and those tended to work the best.<p>

But then Spooky had to go and grab a bodyguard, a cyborg by the name of Jake Armitage.

That was interesting, but at the moment he needed to get away, and call for aid. He managed to reboot his communicator and connect to Manticore HQ. He wasn't looking forward to explaining himself to Leng, but he needed to save his ass.

"Dispatch! This is Riviera! I've got an illegal Mech-aug and a Cyberspace Hacker at—"

_"Sorry pal, your friends won't be coming to the rescue." _said Armitage's voice.

"Goddamn you!" Riviera screamed, and tossed his communicator aside. He looked behind him, and caught glimpses of Armitage chasing after him with the apparent intention of making him pay.

He was getting closer.

Riviera pulled out his handgun and fired at him. He wound up hitting a teenage girl in the shoulder instead, and that turned out to buy him some time. As it turned out, Armitage was a bleeding heart (something Riviera would have found kind of funny if he wasn't running like hell.) and had stopped to make sure the girl would live. Then, the chase was renewed, and as Riviera looked back he realized that Armitage's cold fury became all the more intense.

Riviera decided that another civilian casualty was in order, but it wasn't Armitage he should have been worried about.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kasumi Goto, urged on by Jensen, chased after the man in the gold suit. She had run across rooftops, red pipes, vaulted down from a rail, jumped from scaffold to storage boxes, all to stay away from the crowd. Eventually, she found a zip line that took her just above her quarry, and she let herself fall down on him.<p>

The man's face was slammed against the metal floor, and she proceeded to overload his Krypto Chip with her Omni-Glove. White and yellow voxels surged from her palm and into a holographic port in the back of his head, and he screamed.

She unloaded a few exabytes of garbage data into the Krypto, ensuring it would slowly corrupt the man's memories and perception of reality for at least a year, provided he got proper medical care. It seemed brutal, but Goto knew for a fact that Manticore contractors deserved far worse, and from what she could see by examining his chip, Riviera really, really deserved worse. He was spasming uncontrollably when she was done with him.

"What are you doing?" asked Adam, as he approached her.

"Wiping your tracks. Tell me you did the same to the Copleys, right?"

"You... you're erasing his memories."

"Well, I sent him into a nightmare-fueled coma, more like... but yeah, he won't be able to make much sense of the last few hours."

"That's..." Adam shook his head. He couldn't hide his distaste for it, and Kasumi felt that she needed to put this into perspective.

"I could just murder him, if you prefer," she said as she got up from straddling the prone agent and dusted herself off, "Or maybe we should have taken him prisoner? I'm pretty sure Power Girl would have loved _that_."

"No... no, you're right." Adam looked at the gathering crowd. "Let's get out of here."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>An awkward silence fell in the cabin of the Strada. Jensen was at the wheels, driving well within the speed limit if only to not bring any unwanted attention upon themselves.<p>

Spooky was not taking the news that his old friend had been pinched by Manticore and forced to work 24/7 on god knows what until his brain was burnt out. And he had not taken it very well that some PMC schmuck had used his memories to set up a trap for him.

Spooky needed a smoke, bad, and lit one up to calm his nerves.

"So... um," said Tali. "Did we get everything?"

"We couldn't get the weapon," said Jensen. "But the DC and the Ono-Sendai are in the bag."

"Oh, well... that's good, right?"

"Yeah, it is," said Spooky. "Say, I see Alpha and Beta let you have their custom Hua Po drones. How's that working for you?"

"Oh! Uh, pretty good, actually! I didn't think something so small could do that much damage to a fully armored mech!"

"Thanks for the rescue, by the way." said Jensen. "Those things were tough bastards."

If Tali wasn't wearing her mask, Jensen would have seen her blush. "Oh! You're welcome! Still, those new drones were a big drain on the Omni-Gel... maybe we could pick up some extra cartridges and bottles on the way?"

Adam nodded. "Sure... ah, I've got a Codec call incoming... It's Morgan."

"Oh, Keelah..." Tali groaned.

...

_"We have a problem," _she said.

Adam had not been looking forward to this_. "Look, we did our best to cover our tracks but there was a LOT of gunfire and..."_

_"Gunfire? Gunfire! What did you... oh, never mind! Whatever it is can wait until later. We've got a larger issue to deal with._

_"Which is?"_

_"I've lost track of Devereaux."_

_"...What?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the Port Hanshan holding cells, Patrolman Butterman was getting a stern talking-to by Sergeant Simmons.<p>

"You! Had! One! Job!" shouted Simmons at the portly SSC prison guard.

"I'm sorry, sir..."

"Sorry doesn't quite make up for your cock-up! How the hell did she manage to get out of her cell?!"

"Well, I let her out..."

"You. You let her out?!"

"Well, she needed to go to the bathroom!"

"There's a toilet in the cell!"

"She said it was broken. I didn't see the harm. I mean, what is she? Like, five foot four? I didn't think she could hit that hard..." Butterman nursed the shiner on his head. The pretty prisoner had taken his tonfa and had smacked him in the face with it. She had managed to break his faceplate, which, if one had to be honest, was not that impressive a feat considering the cheap gear assigned to SSC patrolmen.

Brea, as Morgan, was watching the interview from a distance.

_"In any case,"_ she continued sub-vocally. _"She made her way around Port Hanshan incognito and managed to get a daypass from a turian by the name of Lilihierax, one of the maintenance crew here. She took an elevator to Middle Dosadi. The pass is not a Chip, so she can't be tracked."_

_"She could be anywhere. How the hell am I supposed to find her?"_

_"Well, I've got every WTO tourism VI and Pop Idol with IMREC looking for her through the cameras right now. I'll let you know once they find her."_

_"Mind sending me a picture? You never know, I might see her on the street."_

_"Of course, there you are." _She sent him the mugshots via Codec._ "How are your preparations doing?"_

_"We're doing fine. We managed to get a DC Mini and an Ono-Sendai cyberdeck."_

_"That... I'm impressed, 'Armitage'. Those are some very useful tools. I take it 'Hank' will be handling the hacking?"_

_"Pretty much. I wish we could have gotten more, though."_

_"It will have to suffice..." Brea's Omni-Tool beeped, and she read the incoming message. "Oh, bugger."_

_"What?"_

_"I just got an email: Scholar and Leng are coming here. No doubt to 'rescue' the three Europeans."_

_"And you've only got two. I wouldn't want to be in your place."_

_"Funny. Take the time to prepare some more, Armitage. This mission is about to hit its stride."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>She had told him it was a bad idea.<p>

Elsa knew a thing or two about the Ossies, and that knowledge told her that Matsuo would not react very well to being bribed. But Segal had his own ideas about the OCU: it was practically run by the WTO, and the WTO loved money more than anything. Wrong on so many levels, and when Segal had offered her a bribe, the SSC policewoman had sent them all to jail.

Then he tried to cut a deal with the tall woman with the porn starlet body. That one... had been harder to read, but Elsa could tell she had feigned taking umbrage. No doubt to rub the fact that Thierry was simply no good navigating the corporate world in his face.

Elsa had told him that he deserved to be in that cell when she left him there, though she told him not to worry, that soon the great gears of the political machine would turn again, and they could go right back to turning her into the hero of the galaxy.

She was mad at him. She had wanted to contact her daughter when she woke up from her brief healing coma. Hayha's death had still felt fresh, and she found no solace on Zead's shoulder.

She had expected Segal to be understanding, but he had dropped the news of her nomination like a mallet on her skull, and he had told her that, for the sake of Europe, she could have no contact with her family until her Spectre status was confirmed.

_Qu'il aille se faire foutre, _she thought, when she realized that maybe letting him rot in a cell wasn't such a nice thing to do. But she had wanted to take a few steps in a direction that a man with golden pips on his collar had not commanded her to take.

So she broke out of prison and made herself a fugitive in a WTO Arcology.

God, did she need a cigarette right now.

The bistro she had entered was a lovely, cozy place on the corner of the two main streets of Middle Dosadi, on level 84. Its interior was lit dimly, and partitions made out of dark chocolate mahogany wood (local lumber, apparently) and curved panes of frosted glass separated the interior into small booths, giving the impression of privacy where there was none. Elsa liked it. It wasn't too crowded, the music was quiet, and as far as luxury went, the white marble tables were as good as it got.

Elsa had thought the place would be perfect for a drink, but as she approached the bar her head started to throb, and her senses began to go into overdrive for a handful of seconds that seemed to last an eternity.

She could feel the bartender cleaning yet another glass through her teeth.

She could hear wine being poured in a cup through her skin.

She could smell the air being pushed out of a laughing fat woman though her eyes.

She could taste the chewing of a soup through her _ears._

And she could see everything, when her eyes were closed.

Elsa shook her head. The Drive was still messing with her perception of the world around her. She had thought the bistro would be quiet enough for her, but for a Drive addict the only quiet place was a grave, and even then the ghosts were liable to bother you. She decided that she needed to pee, and after relieving herself at the bathroom, she heard someone humming a tune. It was a British nursery rhyme, though the name escaped her.

Something about a bridge, yes.

She looked for the source of the humming, and came across a little girl with short blonde hair sitting in a dark, windowless booth by herself, with a cup of hot cocoa, slowly cooling.

Memories of Beatrice rushed through Elsa's mind. The painful birth, the first time she held her in her arms, her first word, the first time she made a video-call all by herself...

...

_"Quand reviendras-tu, maman?"_

_"Je ne sais pas, cherie, mais je te promets que ce sera bientot, et qu'on s'amusera tant..."_

_..._

She approached the lonely girl, and sat in front of her. "Bonjour," she said, smiling.

"Bonjour," said the girl, her accent very English.

"Are you by yourself here, all alone?" Elsa asked, concerned.

"Yes, but soon my brother will come and find me. I'm not worried. Even if someone comes and takes me away, he'll find me. Nothing will stop him from finding me. He promised."

"And your parents? Where are they?"

"My mummy is dead," said the girl sadly.

"Oh.. I am so sorry..."

"I am so sorry too..."

"Tell you what? I'll keep you company until your brother comes to pick you up. Is that alright?"

The girl looked at Elsa with pale amber eyes, and smiled. "I'd like that."

Elsa sat in front of the girl in silence, intent on keeping her company. The girl was drawing something on a piece of paper Elsa hadn't noticed she had. She drew spirals with crayons of various shades of red. The spiraling motions made Elsa sleepy.

"What are you drawing?" asked Elsa.

"_His_ dreams. _Our_ dreams. Are you tired, Elsa?"

"Yes, very much." Elsa yawned.

"You should sleep..."

"I..."

"I shall sing you a lullaby, if it helps. My mummy used to sing to me in the dark place."

"I... I think I'd like that very, much."

Elsa vaguely remembered something falling down, falling down, falling down... and she closed her eyes.

...

[Aphex Twin - Nannou]

_In the dusty attic, barely illuminated by the sunrays that dared poke out of a boarded up window, there had been clocks, and dolls, and automatons made of brass and steel, of porcelain and wood. Marie-Antoinette, once you spun her key once, twice, and thrice, played a lovely little number on her hammered dulcimer. If one were to put a coin in the forehead of John the Baptist, the disembodied head would have sang a curse upon Salome. Louis XVI, once you pulled a switch, would be beheaded over, and over, and over again..._

_The prize, however, was a large wooden cabinet, atop which was built a belltower with a clock. The cabinet was locked, but little Elsa had gotten the key. It was given to her by a clockwork butterfly, its wings looked like blue eyes wrapped in fluttering petals of shadow. She had to prop herself up on a box to reach the lock, and as she inserted the key the automata in the attic warned her against turning it._

_"Don't!" said Marie-Antoinette, as she hammered her dulcimer._

_"Foolish girl!" chided John, gold dripping from his neck._

_Louis simply stared, his head in the basket._

_Little Elsa did not heed their warning, and turned the key. The cabinet opened, revealing a mechanical animated triptych that seemed to become the whole world. The only sounds came from the machine, besides the whirring of cogs and gears, was from its internal music box, which played an English nursery rhyme._

_The sky was made of dark brass gears, the clouds made of springs, and the one-eyed sun was made out of hammered gold. It chased a moon made of silver. _

_A little white bird made of paper hatched from an egg made of tin, though try as it might it could not fly under its own power._

_The bird came across a clockwork knight with a skirt, and he caged it in his arms. He gave it to a spearman made out of ivory, who propped it up with a spear, to give it a taste of the sky... but still, she did not fly. Finally a sailor came along, and grabbed the cage, which came apart, and then threw the bird up in the air. The bird finally took flight, and sang happily, knowing true joy for the very first time. It flapped its wings, and hovered besides the moon, and the moon was happy to have a new friend._

_But the sun was coming, chasing them with angry golden spikes. The moon left the bird behind, and eventually the sun caught up to the paper bird. Its flesh ignited, and from the holes burnt into it Elsa could see metal spirals and cogs made of a black metal that gleamed blue. The bird made an abominable screech that made little Elsa cover her ears._

_**"This is what they want for you."** said the disembodied girl's voice._

_The mechanical triptych fell apart, and dissolved into blackness. Only the burning bird remained, its paper feathers making way for cogs and metal as it fell deeper and deeper into the void until, out of nowhere, came a pair of mechanical hands of obsidian and silver, brought together as if cupping for water. The Bird fell in them, and stopped screaming—_

_**"LET ME OUT!"** screamed the boy, his mouth dripping with blood._

...

"Miss?" asked the waitress.

Elsa woke up with a start, her face rising from the table. _Me suis-je endormie?_ she wondered.

"Oh... excuse me," she muttered, as she massaged her eyes. She looked for the little blonde girl, and saw no one sitting in front of her. "Did the little girl's brother come and pick her up?

"I'm sorry?"

"The little girl? She was in front of me. She was nursing a cup of cocoa..." Elsa looked around, and realized that she was sitting at a window table.

"You must have dreamed her," said the waitress.

"I... suppose I must have," agreed Elsa, a bit groggily. She had to admit, however, that the short nap did her some good.

"Can I bring you anything?"

"I... I haven't decided, yet. A cup of espresso, perhaps?"

"Right away, mademoiselle."

Elsa waited patiently for her coffee, and stared out of the window. Passing by her was an eclectic parade of humans wearing various pret-a-porter and casual fashions, interrupted by the occasional alien: Turian, Asari, Salarian...

One particular passerby, she took notice of: It was a tall, young blonde man with a well groomed beard dressed in a black business suit pinstriped in gold. He stopped a moment, meeting Elsa's gaze with a slight smile.

Elsa didn't like him. He looked like a stereotypical Ossie, a beach boy off to a job interview. She gave him a polite, if dishonest smile, because it was just her being polite and certainly not because she found him particularly attractive, and his Quarian girlfriend, dressed in garish pink, had to pull him away.

It occurred to Elsa, for no particular reason at all, that she hadn't had sex in years.

"Bordel, j'ai besoin de boire un coup."

As soon as her espresso was served, she headed straight for the bar.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Morgan, I've found her," <em>said Jensen over Codec.

_"What?!"_

_"She's wearing a black felt coat over a dark blue navy jumpsuit, right?"_

_"...That was what she was wearing when she escaped, yes, but do send me a picture, just to be absolutely certain?"_

Jensen took a snapshot of Elsa as she got up to make her way to the bar, and sent the image to Brea via Codec. "Okay,_ there you go."_

_"...Unbelievable. She's not even really hiding."_

_"What do you want me to do?"_

_"I'd like you to keep an eye on her."_

_"Stalk her, in other words."_

_"...Probably not a good idea. The dossier we have on her indicates that she has excellent instincts. She's also on edge from Drive withdrawal. She's bound to make you and react accordingly. No, I want you to approach her **socially**, keep her out of trouble, and stay close to her until 'Hank' and 'Kaylee' are done setting up their hardware. Once that's done, I'll supply her current location to Scholar's lapdogs, and he'll come and fetch her."_

_"How's Scholar taking the news?"_

_"He... wasn't exactly happy, but I managed to convince him that making him come to a EU starship captain's rescue was my plan all along."_

_"And we've also just confirmed Hein's theory. EG wants her as a customer: that means I didn't just risk my neck for nothing."_

_"As you say."_

_"So, when you say approach her socially, you mean—"_

_"Chat with her, wine her, dine her, take her to the movies, or out to dance, I mean."_

_"Jeez, should I bed her, too?" _said Jensen sarcastically.

_"...If you want to throw in a little sex," Brea said tersely, "that's your prerogative, 'Jake'. Morgan **out**."_

And just like that, Brea had cut the connection.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the car, which was parked close to an electronics store, Jensen was dusting and smoothing out his suit to make sure he was somewhat presentable enough. Thankfully, his grappling with the Copley mechs hadn't ruined his suit too much. Kasumi was helping Jensen out, making sure the fabric on his back was dirt-free, hole-free, and overall impeccable.<p>

Spooky and Tali were sitting inside the car, though the human hacker had his feet out of the open driver's door.

"Sure you don't want _me_ to do it?" said Spooky with a grin. "I can keep a lady properly entertained. Ask anyone."

As Jensen adjusted his tie, he was seriously considering letting Spooky handle it. After all, he was many things, but a pick-up artist? Not so much. His romances had always been the result of circumstances, and not so much from any effort of his own. There was the CASIE, but the notion of blowing concentrated pheromones at a woman made him feel a little ill. Yes, he really wanted Spooky to handle it. Unfortunately: "You're on Manticore's shit-list, and the sooner you and Tali set up the van, the sooner we can get this job over with."

"Hey, whatever you say. I got a few tips for you, though. Never give a girl your full attention. Never be too impressed with what she tells you. Be just enough of an smart-aleck asshole to be interesting and not so much that you'll ruin her whole day. Always take her shit-tests in stride. Don't take yourself too seriously. And most importantly of all, when you do meet her eyes, give her your best look. Speaking of which..." Spooky pointed at his glasses and whistled dismissively. At Jensen's hesitation, Kasumi took them off and put it in Adam's inner breast pocket.

"Spooky's taking a page from like, every booklet on alpha-male posturing ever," said Kasumi, a knowing smile on her face. "He forgets to mention that those types strike out as often as they score. You're a six foot three athletic fella who dresses like a rich man. Just act casual and she'll be all over you."

"I'm not trying to sleep with her, dammit."

Spooky chuckled, and put his hands up in a relaxed defense. "Okay, I get that, but if you don't want her to call the SSC over because of the tall creep that just won't stop bothering her, you're gonna have to keep the dance going. Figuratively speaking, of course."

Adam grumbled, "Let's just get this over with."

"Wait!" Kasumi produced a small cylinder from her pocket, pushed the top, and sprayed something on Jensen. It was cologne.

Spooky looked at the tube and thought it looked suspiciously like his emergency supply of Drakkar perfume. He checked his own inner pocket for it: nothing. "Hey! That's mine!"

Kasumi laughed, sprayed some more cologne on Jensen's wrists, and tossed the spray back at Spooky.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen entered the Bistro, and quickly identified his mark. She was sitting at the far left side of the bar, with two other gentlemen on her left, busily chatting about football (the kind that actually involved hitting the ball with the foot, as they would say).<p>

But not too loudly, not so loud that their voices would cut through the slow, pre-recorded piano lounge music. Such was the power of the dark, warm atmosphere of this place. It got two ardent football fans to stay_ quiet._

As the door chimes rang, Elsa Devereaux briefly looked back to see who had just entered, and promptly went back to nursing her glass of cognac.

Adam took a seat on the opposing end of the bar, and ordered a glass of Belgian Abbey beer, a drink far too light for him to get buzzed on, thanks to his Sentinel Health System. It was a pricey import, but Adam thought the taste was worth it.

In between sips, Adam managed to get a glimpse of Elsa past the other two bar patrons. She was a dirty blonde, with a skin that hadn't seen sunlight in months, maybe even years. A spacer's tan, as the expression went. Her jawline, oddly enough, was a bit chiseled. That, combined with a dimpled chin, should have made her look absolutely mannish. It absolutely didn't: if anything those traits made her look more womanly. Maybe it was because of her makeup, Adam decided. Her mascara was layered on pretty thick — no doubt to distract from the dark shadows under her eyes caused by Drive overuse — her dark crimson blush was light on her cheeks, and she had a matte shade of lipstick to match. Her medium length hair was slightly disheveled... but stylishly so. A bit odd, for a military woman.

Adam thought she looked more like a petite rock starlet. He wondered if she actually had tried to make herself look repulsive, only to be foiled by years of conditioning, of being tutored into being a proper modern french lady.

Eventually, Elsa met his gaze, revealing her grey eyes. She gave him a small, polite smile, then went back to her drink. One of the two men checked their watches, and reminded the other that it was time to go to another engagement, and left.

Adam took a deep breath, and hesitated to approach the woman. The CASIE readout had gotten enough out of her from Jensen's occasional glances, but it could tell she wasn't in the best of moods. He knew the feeling, and he hated it when people tried to intrude on the moments he'd prefer to keep to himself.

_Maybe I should leave her alone_, he thought.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa wanted the young tall man to simply try and make his move so that she could eviscerate him (mentally) then get back to her drinking.<p>

The french pilot, unable to resist her need for another cigarette, fished one from her pack, and to her frustration, the ignition tab on the pack refused to work. She tapped the package, but the blasted thing simply would not work. Suddenly, a small flame erupted in front of her. It came from a small device: a lighter. It was held by a gloved hand, and that hand was attached to an arm pinstriped with gold, which belonged to a suit, which was worn by the tall young man she did not want to think about.

She locked gazes with him, and held his wrist — gently — to bring the flame close enough for her to light up her cigarette. She blew smoke at the flame, thinking it would put it out. It didn't. The blonde man closed the polished metal lighter, and put it back in his pocket.

"Bonjour," he said.

Elsa merely nodded, staring into his eyes: his irises were gold and green. Artificial, she realized. No doubt bought by his father. Then, she realized that it was odd that he did not simply have new ones cloned. She let go of his wrist, and went back to her drink.

"Est-ce que je peux?" said the blonde man, nodding at the chair.

"C'est un monde libre," she replied in a young, sultry smoker's voice. She shrugged, then leaned in on the glowing counter, propping herself up with her elbows. "Faites ce que vous voulez."

The blonde man sat on the chair to her right, close enough for her to get a whiff of his cologne. It was pleasant enough, but it made her self-conscious to the fact that she hadn't even put on a bit of deodorant. She hadn't broken much of a sweat on Noveria. If anything, she smelled of cigarettes.

Just as he was about to introduce himself, Elsa cut him off.

"Ne perdez pas votre temps. Je suis mariée."

The blonde man laughed, and took a sip of his expensive beer. That annoyed her a bit.

"Qu'est-ce qu'il y a de si drôle?"

"Hm? Oh, je me disais seulement que vous n'êtes pas une très bonne menteuse, c'est tout."

"Et qu'est-ce qui vous fais croire que je mens?"

He took another sip of his beer. "Vous n'avez pas de bague."

"Je l'ai perdue."

"Ah bon? Vraiment?"

"Oui, vraiment."

The blonde man gave her an amused look. _"Vraiment."_

Elsa smiled, and laughed a little. She could tell he wasn't buying it, and she thought it was a bit silly to have tried in the first place. "Non, pas vraiment."

The blonde man chuckled good naturedly, and held out his hand. "Allow me to introduce myself. Jake Armitage."

She shook his hand. "Elsa Devereaux. You are English?"

"Je suis beaucoup de choses. Je peux continuer en français, si vous préférez?"

Elsa felt a little disappointment wash over her. "Écoutez, vous me paraissez assez gentil... mais je serais sans doute forcée a retourner bosser dans les dix prochaines minutes..."

"Et... quel genre de travail faites-vous?" asked Armitage.

She held up her glass of cognac. "Le genre qui vous fait boire."

"On doit avoir le même boulot, alors."

Elsa snorted. "J'en doute. C'est quoi donc, votre profession?" She gave Jake an appraising look. The light tan was fake, though great care had been taken to try and make it look genuine, and make it blend with the brownish gold, medium length hair. Said hair was combed back, then stylishly blasted at the back, like straw. That was salon work. And then there was the suit: It was elegant, yes, but it was also fairly pricey. Rich boy, she decided. "Vous bossez à la compagnie de papa et vous passez le temps à niquer les secretaires?"

Jake, to his credit, didn't seem all that insulted. "En fait, je suis horloger."

Elsa quirked her eyebrow. "Vous reglez les Omnis?" she asked, disbelieving.

"Pas tout à fait. Je fabrique et je répare des pieces mécaniques qui servent a mésurer le temps."

"Et il y a encore un marché pour cela?"

"Un petit marché, oui, chez les riches. Mes clients sont — d'habitude — des collectionneurs qui veulent que je leur remet en marche leurs vieIlles pendules, des heritages de leurs arrière grand-père. À l'occasion, on me donne un contrat pour faire une pièce originale, ou de construire des jouets, pour que les enfants riches puissent se vanter aux autres."

"Et vous buvez pour garder les mains stables, c'est ça?"

"Je bois parce que mes clients sont eccentriques. Le truc, c'est de boire _juste_ assez pour se calmer. Travailler sur de la mécanique saoul, ça invite le désastre."

Elsa smiled at him. "Ma mère vous aurait adoré. Elle aimait les mécanismes, aussi." Elsa's expression softened, and became wistful. "Elle avait un grenier plein d'automates: des poupées mecaniques, des imitations de la vie. Sa pièce favorite, qu'elle avait reçu d'un billionaire de Tokyo, était une tête, un buste baroque finement travaillé, fait en platine cloisonné avec the l'or, la surface parsemée de perles." She took a puff out of her cigarette. "Il pouvait parler."

Jake's interest seemed piqued. "Vous parlez de la tête de Jean le Baptiste, par Ashpool et fils. Je connais: c'est un hybride eletronique-analogue."

"Exactement. Sa gorge était remplie d'engrenages et de rouages, et de minuscules tubes d'orgue qui pouvais imiter une voix. Je trouvais cette chose effrayante... et inutile. Des programmes synthétiseurs de voix, ça coute moins cher."

"Peut-être, mais je crois que sa création en valait le coup."

_"Ah? Et pourquoi donc?"_

"Parce que c'était un testament."

"Un testament sur quoi? Le gachis?"

Armitage nodded in agreement. "Oui, mais aussi sur le génie humain. C'etait une chose difficile — voire impossible — a créer, mais ce n'a pas decouragé les fils d'Ashford de coopérer ensemble et d'achever le travail, et c'etait un travail bien fait, unique a travers le monde, voire même la galaxie. C'est même un peu triste."

"Triste?"

_Sad?_

Armitage looked straight into Elsa's eyes. "Oui, triste. Parce qu'il n'y aura plus jamais une pièce de mécanique comme la Tête. On l'a détruite, non?"

"Oui... on l'a détruite." Elsa didn't think it was possible, but she suddenly felt a small pang of guilt at her teenage act of vandalism. She took one last sip of her glass, emptying it. She looked at it with some feigned disappointment and curiosity, then: "Tiens?...Mon verre est vide."

"Oui, je vois ça." Jake said, his voice low and soft. "Et alors?"

"Et alors..." she said, her tone matching his. She smiled, and bit her lower lip. "...allez vous faire quelque chose pour me remedier ça, ou est-ce que vous allez me forcer à vous supplier?"

Jake smiled, and ordered another drink for her.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was getting dark, and to Tali that was proof that she hadn't been working fast enough.<p>

Inside the basement-level parking garage, Tali had just finished outfitting the inside of a grey skyvan with everything needed to remotely hack any wireless network. She had fitted the right most inner wall with racks filled with computers, a few modems, and a router all interconnected with cables and tubes of coolant. Said computers were also connected to a small array of 3D projectors and haptic keyboards. Two chairs had been set up. A lightweight couch for Spooky, and a small office chair for Tali.

"I'm done!" shouted Tali happily. Spooky, Ono-Sendai in hand, peered inside the van from the open back door.

He whistled. "Nicely done, Sparky. And in record time, too."

"Yes, I know, I'm very good, now call her." Tali said impatiently.

"Just a minute..." Spooky casually threw the master switch that was supposed to power up the entire set of computers. Nothing happened. With a knowing smile, he flipped the switch over and over again.

"Okay, I might have forgotten to plug in the OVO Cell."

"You don't say. Well, let's get to that, and do a check of every piece of hardware in there, just to make sure."

Tali suppressed a grumble.

"Yes?"

"...Nothing."

An hour later, Tali and Spooky had double-checked the machines. They checked out, and Spooky connected the Ono-Sendai to the router, laid himself down on his seat, connected the headset to the Ono-Sendai, and put his head inside the headset. The 'trodes seemed to float on the harness, scanning Spooky's brain by combing the surface of his skull. Eventually they locked into place, and the Ono-Sendai was fully calibrated to his brainwaves.

Spooky took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he had done this. The thrill was coming back. He was eager for the rush... but he knew he was going to regret it in the morning.

"Alright Tali, I'm going to do a light dive, no need for the drugs. You're gonna be my wing-girl. That means you make sure I've got the apps I need when I need them, warn me of any incoming danger, and pull the plug when I encounter some black ICE. That also means we're going to go over every single app the twins gave you while we take over a virtual machine. Is that cool?"

"...Well, yes, but shouldn't we hurry this along?"

"Nope. Can you think of a good reason why we should?"

Tali rubbed the back of her helmet. "...Well, Jake's been out there a long time. The sooner we're done here, the sooner he can come back."

_Hoo boy, _thought Spooky. "Jake's doing just _fine_. He's got a lovely, petite french lady to keep him company. He's not in any danger."

"Well... what if she's an... an Illuminated, or... or, a killer robot wearing human skin?" she said lamely.

"That's _Illuminatus_..." corrected Spooky. "And really? A killer robot?"

"It's entirely within the realm of possibility and we should save Jensen from it!"

"Okay then, the sooner we go through this exercise..."

Tali sighed.

"...The _**sooner**_ I make the call and we can put the operation in motion. Sounds fair?"

Tali agreed reluctantly, and proceeded to set up the virtual machine as per Spooky's specifications. The Ono-Sendai booted up, and readouts of his brainwave patterns, his current location in the network, and various console log windows appeared at Tali's workstation.

Spooky put on a VR mask to focus on the visions better, relaxed in his chair, took a deep breath, and dove in.

...

...

...

_[ Soul Hacker OST - Prologue ]_

_Spooky's avatar, a crystalline lozenge with a radar ring surrounding it, was hovering inches above a ground that looked like an old electronic circuit._

_Hank 'Spooky' Moody's interpretation of Cyberspace was...actually pretty banal, considering how weird things could get in there. It was a collection of every Hollywood Hacking cliché ever: you had your Tron lines, and your translucent, glowing geometric shapes representing data, and no color was ever far from teal, or purple, or orange. Still, everything had the architectural charms of an office building, with transparent file folders, crystalline desks, and boring, cube-shaped rooms inside boring cube-shaped buildings._

_You could leave the FAI, but the FAI never quite left you, it seemed._

_While Spooky's perception of time in Cyberspace was in real-time, allowing him to communicate with Tali vocally, he decided instead to send her text messages through a window. After all, when he would dive inside Europa Genomics' networks, the drugs would send his brain into overdrive, and his speech wouldn't make a lick of sense._

_Tali, with more of a God's-eye-view of the fake network, was quick to keep the necessary apps loaded in memory just in case. Pulser, an brute force attack program, was to be kept on hand at all times. You never knew when a hostile security program was around the corner, after all. They successfully breached the I_/_O node, which had a basic gatekeeper ICE. Bypassing that was child's play. Then came the Firewall (which looked like an infinitely huge red wall, of course). The ring shaped portal dug into the wall was guarded by a Barrier ICE, linked to a Revere sub-ICE ready to put the entire system on high alert. _

_Drill proved real effective, here. And before long Spooky was riding on rivers of electronic data, on his way to the Data Storage Node._

_"Man, did I miss this," thought Spooky. There were simpler ways to get access to a system: you could go in disguised as a delivery boy, sneak in the mainframe room, and drop a rigged up cell phone to hijack the wireless network. You could trick a guy over the phone into revealing important info about the system. You could even find a password by stealing their notepads. But those got boring after a while. For Spooky, Cyberspace would always be fun. Then again, the real fun had yet to start..._

* * *

><p><strong><em>-Chat Window 01 open-<em>**

_Kaylee: Hey, Spooky._

_Spooky: Yeah?_

_Kaylee: What's Cyberspace like?_

_Spooky: Like nothing you ever saw before, and yet, made up of everything you did know. That's the best way I can put it._

_Kaylee: But what does it feel like?_

_Kaylee: That's what I meant._

_Spooky: Oh._

_Spooky: Well, it's like a shooter... and a role-playing game._

_Spooky: Imagine the best of both that you ever played, rolled into one._

_Spooky: Then, imagine that game taking place in a psychedelic landscape, and the difficulty level is set to Realistic and Ironman. There's no respawns. No checkpoints. No saves. The hits are always critical, and if a Black ICE gets you, that's a real death._

_Kaylee: ...That doesn't sound all that fun._

_Spooky: For a casual? Nope!_

_Spooky: But for a hardcore fella like me, there's nothing like it. Wanna try it sometime, after this job's done?_

_Kaylee: I don't know. I got a big enough taste of psychedelics at the Elerium-115._

_Spooky: You stepped onto the dance floor, eh?_

_Kaylee: ...No?_

_Spooky: _( -_-)

_Spooky: _(-_- )

_Spooky: _( -_-)

_Kaylee: ?_

_Kaylee: What does that even mean?_

* * *

><p>"So, how's the trip into Wonderland going?" asked Smuggler. He was carrying a small case, and in it was what he had come up with in such a short time.<p>

"It's doing as well as expected. It is just a test, after all," said Tali. "What's in the case?

Smuggler made sure they weren't being watched, put the case on the Skyvan's floor, and opened it.

He had modified the two Renaud-Kerbrat SMGs into makeshift carbines, with extended barrels and clips. One he made for Kasumi, and for that one he added some extra recoil compensators. Kasumi was fit, but she was kind of a lightweight. Jensen's RK had a drum magazine instead of a straight clip. Both had silencers, and both had replicated .40 Armor-Piercing rounds using what the team had brought back from the Riviera encounter as a base. Smugger had given the bullets that special Omar touch.

"It won't do the raw damage per shot of the P90 custom," said Smuggler, "but it'll kill one Copley for sure at a distance. Maybe even two, if he aims it right."

"Couldn't you just make those airburst bullets yourself?"

"Sure, but I don't have the time. The rounds are easy enough to make at an Omni-Bench. So are the micro-circuits involved. The real issue is making the targeting computer. Again, the electronics? Easy as pie. It's the software that would take time. I'd need at least a day to write it, and then I would need to test it to work out the bugs."

"Couldn't we just download it from the Extra-net?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Too risky anyways. That kind of software is hard enough to find, and you can bet the planetary Ansible is being monitored for that kind of download."

"Come on, that's a big breach of privacy. I don't think anyone can get away with that."

"The WTO gets away with clone slavery. I don't think anyone minds that they check their emails once in a while. After all, most OZ users are law-abiding citizens. They've got nothing to hide." Smuggler motioned at the hardware set up in the van. "We, on the other hand..."

"...I get your point, yeah."

After another half-hour, the exercise was done, and Spooky took off his headgear. "Okay, I had a look at our setup from the inside out while I was in, and..."

"And?" Tali asked hopefully.

"I think we need to see how I deal with an actual connection. We're heading out!"

Tali grumbled something, and sighed.

"What's her problem?" asked Smuggler, as he stored the two cases in the van, intent on driving it.

"Sparky here thinks we should get Jake away from the French woman as soon as possible." Spooky winked. "Thinks she's a robot double out for his blood."

"Is that right? Well, stranger things have happened. Don't you worry, Kaylee. Goto's keeping an eye on them. She just reported that they left a movie theater."

Tali groaned and rested her head on her little desktop.

"Where are they headed now?" asked Spooky, intent on torturing his new pupil a little more.

"They're headed for a bar. Quiet joint. Devereaux wanted to go dancing, apparently..."

At this, Tali's heart leapt. Garrus had told her that Adam was a terrible, terrible dancer. Adam would make a fool out of himself, and this French witch wouldn't be interested in him anymore. Yes! Things would be working out for her, after all!

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Wax Tailor - Seize the day]<strong>_

"Hm... T'es pas mauvais comme danseur, Jake Armitage," said Elsa. She had said a bit tersely, and yet sultrily. She was giving Jensen bedroom eyes, in that subtle, very european way. They were swaying to the slow, sultry beat of a Trip Hop song. It was a hazy orchestra of deep bass and sharp guitars, and had a dreamlike quality given to it by a woman's voice that seemed to sing through an old phone.

"C'est mon genre de tempo, cette chanson." said Adam. "Je n'arrive pas à dancer dans les clubs qui vous écrasent avec du bruit qui passe pour de la musique."

"Moi non plus. Enfin, à l'époque, si... Mais les émotions fortes, j'en ai par-dessus la tête, just en travaillant."

Much to Jensen's relief, Elsa hated loud clubs just as much as he did. _Le Firmament_ was an open air bar built atop a slanted skyscraper. All of the aircar traffic was just below it, giving the place a quiet feeling, amplified by the walls and floors of dark marble. Rivers of glowing blue water and glass partitions separated the place in several different areas: Bar. Lounge. Dance floor.

From these rivers, glowing droplets of water floated up. Jensen and Elsa had crossed one on their way to the dance floor, and the droplets had parted away from them, leaving them dry.

Elsa, some time in the middle of the song, rested her head against Jensen's chest. The truth of the matter was that, as a fairly short woman, Elsa had a thing for tall men. Bonus points if they were handsome. It wasn't something she was all that proud of: she loathed the fact that thousands of years' worth of evolution had favored the woman that found the biggest man to keep her safe from danger. Right now, though, that heady feeling of being protected lifted her spirits up immensely.

"Un peu osé, non?" he said, a little playfully.

"J'aime bien ton parfum," she said, realizing the truth of the lie as she breathed deep, her eyes closed. Jensen was about to follow up with something else, only to be shushed. "Tais-toi, s'il-te-plait, et restons comme ça pour un moment de plus."

They continued like this until the song ended.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the lounge, Jensen and Devereaux sat on opposite ends of an L-shaped couch. The waitress, a pale girl with a raven colored bob of a haircut, approached them.<p>

"And what will we be having?" she said with a wink. Jensen immediately recognized her voice: It was Kasumi's... the actual Kasumi, not a fellow clone.

Elsa had not appreciated the wink, but decided to order a _Kir Pêche, _while Jensen ordered himself a _Horse's Neck_. Elsa and Adam made light conversation for about five minutes before Kasumi promptly returned, drinks on the tray.

The french ace pilot finished her drink quickly, then took another cigarette from her pack, then another, and offered it to Jensen, who had wanted to remember the burn and smoke and nicotine in his lungs. He lit it, and and breathed in the smoke... only for the Sentinel implants to repair the damage immediately.

"I miss it."

"What?" asked Elsa, in french-accented English. She was still struggling with her lighter strip.

"Self-destruction. It's no fun for me anymore."

"It's not fun for me either."

"Really? Then why do you do it?"

"I'm not brave enough to put a gun to my head, but I'm scared enough of death to kill myself slowly with cigarettes and alcohol."

"And why would you want to die?"

Elsa sighed. "...A good friend of mine died a few days ago. That's what my comrades think is the matter with me. The truth? I live in a cage, Armitage. I've been living in it ever since I discovered a talent for flying, ironically enough. And soon, once my government has its way, I probably won't be able to self-destruct with cocktails and smoke."

"And why can't you leave your cage, Elsa?" Adam asked, but he would get no answer from Elsa, not yet.

She gave up on lighting her cigarette and motioned Jensen to come closer with his lighter. She grabbed his wrist to pull it closer again, only this time she touched skin.

Or the lack, thereof. She wasn't all that shocked.

"Your arm. Your arm is mechanical."

Before Adam could protest, Elsa tugged at his glove's fingers, tip by tip, and then she pulled it loose, revealing the hand of a modified Sarif Class 7 Cyberarm.

Jensen unconsciously held his breath, wondering how Elsa would react. She simply looked on with fascination, cigarette discarded, as she set aside the lighter and began to play with his fingers, flexing them, tugging at them.

"How?"

"Car accident," Adam said quickly. He traced the angled, horizontal fake scar that ran from the middle of his forehead to the far tip of his left eyebrow. "It's also how I got this."

He was worried that, as a military officer, Elsa would recognize the prosthesis as military hardware, but thankfully, that was not the case. After all, she had no real experience dealing with mech-augs, and for her the Sarif Cyberarm was just a fancy-looking piece of black plastic.

"It must be useful," she said. "To make clocks, I mean."

"Among other things."

"What sort of things?"

At the way Elsa was biting her lower lip, and intertwining her fingers with his, Adam realized that he had accidentally made an innuendo.

"Well..."

This Omni-Tool beeped. He was getting a call on his Omni-Tool from Brea.

"Damn. Important call. I have to take this." Elsa looked disappointed as he left, and Jensen wasn't sure if he should have taken that call as a godsend or a curse.

_"Switch to Codec," _said Brea tersely before hanging up.

Jensen made a dental click of annoyance, and called Brea via Codec.

_"Ah, Jake. I see you're making good use of your CASIE. So sorry to ruin your sex life.."_

Jensen got the distinct impression that no, she wasn't sorry.

_"...but the hackers have finished setting up the electronic support van. Are you ready to begin?_

_"First, can I say something? I don't use the CASIE to get sex. And yeah, I'm more or less ready."_

_"Good. I've given Leng Elsa's current location. Goto has a pack of gear for you, but for now? Stay out of sight. I don't want Leng to recognize you."_

_"Why? We've never met face to face."_

_"Maybe, but you did cripple a lot of Manticore personnel when you escaped that Europa Genomics facility back on earth. In fact, you're half the reason they started to invest in Copleys in recent years. They're quite familiar with you."_

_"I'm flattered."_

_"You should be. Your profile is required reading for every Manticore employee. Of course, it seems the disguise is holding. You're welcome, by the way."_

_"Look, how long until Leng gets here."_

_"He should be there in ten minutes."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Leng appeared in a cloud of black spores, the telltale sign of a Nightshade Cloaking System that made him invisible. Not fully trusting this Donna Morgan, he had decided to go off on a search for Devereaux himself. As luck would have it, the entertainment VI — Sharon Resonance — had recognized her when the errant french pilot had asked for directions. This was the start of a trail that led him to some bistro, which in turn led him to a 2D theater, then finally ended here, in the <em>Firmament<em>.

He had been watching this Jake Armitage Yasumoto Whatever play the game with this dame for the last half hour, and when he was about to close the deal he had to excuse himself to the bathroom. What a pussy.

Leng approached Elsa from behind, flanked by two Copleys. "You're coming with me." he commanded.

Elsa shifted on the couch and turned her head, looked at Leng, looked bored, and turned her back on him. Leng did not like that kind of disrespect.

"I'm with someone," she said tersely. "Go away."

"Scholar wants to meet with you and your compatriots."

"My compatriots and Scholar can go fuck themselves. I'm not going anywhere with you. Now leave."

"I don't have time for this."

Leng grabbed her by the arm and activated his EPRA. As she struggled and cursed, the custom pheromones caused her aggression to dissipate almost instantly, replacing it with faint arousal and lightheartedness. She was so very pliable now, putty in his hand. Obedient.

Just the way Leng liked them. It was a shame Scholar wanted her unspoiled and unhurt.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Alone in the bathroom (which, thankfully, was indoors), Jensen was relieving himself in a urinal.<p>

"What are you doing?" he said out loud to no one.

Silence answered him.

"I know you're there," he said again.

"...I am most certainly not trying to get a picture of your junk." said Kasumi from nowhere. Her Camouflage app disengaged, and she appeared behind Adam, wearing the dark shirt and skirt of a waitress, and a big smile on her face.

Jensen zipped up and made his way to the sink. "You know," he said. "If our genders were reversed I would be well within my rights to punch you."

She gasped in amused mock concern and shock. "I know! Don't you just _hate_ double standards?"

Jensen just shook his head and smiled, rolling his eyes. He started to wash his hands. "Brea said you had a package for me."

"It's in the vent, I'll go get it later. So, Elsa Devereaux, huh? What do you think of her?"

"I think she's burned out bad. I think she's haunted by ghosts. I can empathize... but frankly I think Europa Genomics is betting on the wrong horse. Maybe she is Spectre material. But right now? She's hurting too bad to help anyone."

Kasumi chuckled. "I mean, would you like to finish what you started?"

Adam said nothing. Kasumi had expected a playful yes or a bashful no, but instead all she got was a cold dead silence.

"Yes? No? What?"

"I can't."

"...Why not?"

"Because David's modifications had consequences on my sex life."

"Wait, you have an augmented penis? And it doesn't..."

Adam gave her an annoyed look through the mirror. "I'm talking about these." He held up his hands above the sink, looking at them a bit bitterly as the drops of water slid off the black polymer casing. "David probably didn't think these prostheses would have an effect on my sex life, but they did."

"...You lost me."

"It's the touch. Women aren't walking vaginas to me. They're sculptures made of soft skin and warmth, meant to be appreciated by touch. Before my accident I..."

Adam closed his eyes, and within that instant before he opened them again, he remembered that last night of passion he had with Megan, before their relationship began to die. The dream of it had haunted his surgery and subsequent healing coma, 246 hours of painful unconsciousness. He could recall perfectly the softness of her throat, the smell of her hair, the taste of her nape. Better still was that he could affect her breathing: the slow sighs, the sharp intakes of air, the gentle moans.

The frustrated begging.

Adam shared this preference with Kasumi, leaving out the frustration that he felt at needing to always be in control. If he ever let his excitement get the better of him...

Kasumi was staring at him, eyes wide open, mouth agape.

"Damn, sorry about that. I didn't mean to dump that on you." Jensen flicked his wrists, splashing all of the water of his hands.

"...wha?" Kasumi shook her head. "Ahem! I mean... err. So why can't you do... that with...I mean... You can still feel, right?"

"Yes, but it's not the same. For me or my partner. I can barely feel heat and pressure with these. All she would feel is cold plastic claws grasping at her flesh, threatening to tear something off or break a bone. It wouldn't be fun for either of us."

"You could just put it in. Some girls aren't that picky about foreplay, you know?"

"Those girls don't interest me."

"...Have you considered getting cloned limbs?"

"I did."

"Well, clearly you haven't gone for them. Why?"

Jensen's hands balled into fists for a brief moment. "Because people need me to have them."

Codec Call. It was Brea again. _"Jake. Leng just picked up Elsa."_

_"That was... quick," _commented Adam.

_"I know. But I'm tracking his gunship as we speak... its pilot just reported it's headed to the Granada hotel."_

_"The Granada hotel is a secret EG facility?" _

_"Of course not. Scholar wants to butter up Captain Ségal and Lieuteant Elsa first. After all, once arrangements are made, Scholar could stand to make hundreds of billion of nuyen if he makes a deal with the European military. In any case, you and Goto are to head there and meet with my courier. He'll deliver the compound to you."_

_"Roger that."_

Adam relayed the instructions to Kasumi, who excused herself to one of the stalls. "I'll be right with ya. I need to take care of something."

"The gear?"

"...Yes. The gear. Let's go with that."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam made his way back to the sofa he and Elsa had been lounging on before they were interrupted. She had, strangely enough, left her smokes behind.<p>

He picked up the pack, figuring that he'd give it back to her at the first opportunity he got... but as he took it he felt that the weight of it felt wrong. It was heavy, far too heavy.

Adam activated his Smart-Vision.

Inside the pack was a compact bomb.

"Oh, shi-"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kai Leng pressed the trigger on the detonator, and the compact eezo concussion bomb went off. The dozens of customers that didn't die in the initial blast were flung off the roof, and would die after a long, six hundred meter fall.<p>

Leng could hear the screaming through the armored canopy. The sound technically came from the armored cockpit's auditory emulators, but it was still music to Leng's ears. He smirked.

"Let's go," he told the pilot, and the Gunship flew away to the Granada, with Elsa strapped in the passenger cabin. Leng couldn't wait to tell Red Raven the good news.

He had killed Adam Jensen.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>SHADOW BROKER DATABASE: FILE EG33: Enhanced Pheromonal Response Attuner (EPRA)<p>

_A set of discreet organs created by Europa Genomics designed for enhanced social manipulation. Not so much 'implanted' as 'grown' inside the host through a viral infection and a battery of mutagen injections. Though it provides no Micro-expression analysis like the CASIE, the potent pheromones it creates outclass anything else on the market. They are powerful enough to cause extreme arousal or subservience (or both) in any person it is used on, effectively turning even the most strong-willed, defiant individual into a slave. Analysis of the files stolen by Parasini (status update: asset terminated) suggests that EPRA can only be grown by one in a billion human beings. _

_Conclusion: In its current state, EPRA is a failed attempt by Europa Genomics to create superior commanders. Improved versions of the bio augmentation, however, may still be under development. Information on EPRA is now on Priority Level S._

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes<strong>: I suppose the main theme of this chapter is connection. It is, after all, the main purpose of the Dream Machine. Here, Elsa had pushed her friends away as she crashed and burned, and attempted to be intimate with Adam, sharing some of her woes with him along the way. Adam shares some of his personal frustrations — his inability to fully connect sexually with someone — with Kasumi, who is quite happy to work with other people after spending so much time on the run. Spooky connects to information in his own intimate way. _

_Leng forces a connection with Elsa to get what he wants out of her. Jack is trying to reach out. And the Omar? Well, that's for the next chapter._

_Speaking of which, this is turning out in my biggest arc yet. I think I'll need two or three more chapters to finish it, looks like. _

* * *

><p><em><strong>Translated French dialogue:<strong>_

_Hello.  
><em>

_May I?_

_It's a free world._

_Don't waste your time. I am married._

_What's so funny?_

_Hm? Oh, I was only telling myself that you're not a very good liar, that's all."_

_And what makes you believe I'm lying?_

_You don't have a ring._

_I lost it._

_Oh? Really? _

_Yes, really._

_Really._

_No, not really._

_..._

_I am a lot of things. I can continue in french, if you prefer?_

_Listen, you seem nice enough, but I'll be no doubt forced to go back to work within the next ten minutes..._

_And... what kind of work do you do?_

_The kind that drives you to drink._

_We must have the same job, then._

_I doubt it. What is your profession, then? You work at your daddy's company, spending your whole time banging the secretaries?_

_In fact, I am a clockmaker._

_You set the time on Omni-Tools?_

_Not quite. I build and repair mechanical pieces that serve to measure time._

_And is there still a market for that?_

_A little market, yes, with the rich. My clients are — usually — collectors that want me to restore their old grandfather clocks. Occasionally, I get contracted to make original time pieces, or even toys, so that the rich kids can brag to the others._

_And you drink because it keeps your hands steady, right?_

_I drink because my clients are eccentric. The trick is to drink just enough to keep calm. Working drunk on mechanics, that's inviting disaster._

_My mother would have adored you. She loved clockworks, too. She had an attic full of automata: mechanical dolls, imitations of life. Her favorite piece, which she bought from a Tokyo billionaire, was a head, an intricately worked Baroque bust, cloisonné over platinum, studded with pearls. It could talk. _

_You're talking about the Ashford and sons' head of John the Baptist. I know of it: it's an electronic-analogue hybrid._

_Exactly. His throat was filled with gears and cogs and tiny organ pipes that could imitate a voice. I found that thing frightening ... and unnecessary. Voice synthesizers programs are less expensive._

_Maybe, but I think its creation was worth a shot._

_Oh? And why is that?_

_Because it was a testament._

_A testament to what? Waste?_

_Yes, but also to the human genius. It was a difficult thing - if not impossible - to create, but that had not discouraged Ashford' sons to finish the work. And it was a work well done, unique throughout the world, even the galaxy. It's even a little sad._

_"Because there will never be a piece of machinery like the Head. It was destroyed, right?" _

_"Yes, it was destroyed... Hm?... My glass is empty."_

_Yes, I can see that. And?_

_And... are you going to do something to remedy this, or are you going to force me to beg?_

_..._

_Hm, you're not bad for a dancer, Jake Armitage._

_It's my type of beat, this song. I can't dance in clubs that crush you with noise that passes for music._

_Me neither. Well, I used to, but I get more than enough excitement from my job._

_A little daring, no?_

_I love your perfume. Shut up, if you please, and let's stay like this for a moment longer. _


	39. Chapter 35: The Dream Machine Part 7

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

Chapter 35: The Dream Machine part 7

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Elizabeth is voiced by Fiona O'Shaughnessy<strong>_

_**Theodore is voiced by James Marsters**_

_Spellcheck by WarpObscura_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early Author's notes: <strong>Decided to tone down the foreign languages. Still,As much as I would love to put translations right below the untranslated text, the problem becomes that the bilinguals among you are forced to read the same thing twice. On the spacebattles forums, I can just make the font smaller and change the color, and you can quickly mentally ignore it. Not so much here on FF, where there's only one font and one color._

_UPDATE: Sorry, forgot about translating the french text. Translations are at the bottom, as always._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Zoller's eyes fluttered, and opened. He felt ill and nauseous, and wondered where he was. He couldn't quite remember what had brought him here, but the memories were slowly starting to emerge from the shadows of his mind.<p>

He was inside his cockpit. That was, he decided, good.

The cockpit's armor, however, had been torn. That was, he decided, not so good.

Once his consciousness had reasserted itself, Zoller checked his suit's O2 level: 0.45 percent. How long had he been unconscious? Too long, evidently.

He checked the vial of Drive. He had used a dose.

He checked the ship's status. The haptic interface was flickering, but it was functional. The diagnostic reported that the starboard engine was non-functional, the fuel tanks were down to 1 percent, the main communication antenna was destroyed, the secondary one was damaged, sensors were barely functioning, navigation was down, and the laser gunpod was detached.

Zoller looked out of the hole in the cockpit. No frame of reference to know how fast he was going, or even where.

He was doomed.

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p><em>Zoller had felt at one with the universe. At one with every beam of energy that came at him. At one with his plane. At one with motion, at one with his every shot. The Corvette's pilot had called reinforcements, and they has been quickly dispatched. Once again, Zoller and Taggart were surrounded, just as they were about to cross out of the communications blackout zone the Geth had set up. But that was fine: Zoller would kill them too.<em>

_Zoller could hear someone at the edge of his consciousness tell him to run, but he was having so much fun. He felt as though he could take on the entire Geth fleet and still come out on top. _

_But everything had its limits, and Zoller was no longer heedful of his machine's. Eventually the Sonnenstrahl's power cell ran out, and he had to dump the entire weapon. He was elated at the sudden drop in mass, but that left him with his machine guns and missiles. Those had been enough, as he danced across lines of fire to kill more Geth._

_But it wasn't the ammo he should have been wary of. It wasn't even the fuel. _

_He had increased the output of his Mass Effect field to compensate for whatever it was that hampered the Endymion's mass lightening field, and the Eezo core's charge had gone into the red, discharging into his subsystems, causing them to malfunction or die. _

_He wasn't quite dead in the water, his inertia now carrying him into the dark, but Zoller was now easy pickings for a handful of fighters, which blasted a few holes in his hull before Taggart shot them down. _

_"Lad? Lad, are you alive?"_

_The high from the Drive was beginning to wear off, and Zoller was getting scared. "I... I..."_

_"That's a yes, then." _

_Zoller felt his ship lurch. Something had grabbed his ship. It took him a moment to realize that it was Taggart tugging him along._

_"You're good, lad. You're a skittish, bloodthirsty little prick, but you're good at what you do."_

_Zoller could feel his ship spinning, and he along with it. _

_"Like it or not, you're a Silver Drake, and that title comes with a duty, boy."_

_Zoller felt like a stone in a slingshot, and despite the Gravity suit, he could feel his blood flee his head._

_"No, wait, this is all my fault!" Zoller pleaded. "Don't waste your fuel on me, run."_

_"Keep our Angel safe, lad."_

_And just like that, Taggart released his manipulator's grip, and Zoller was flung towards safety, past a red line that the enemy was not willing to cross._

_"Come, ye bastards. Let me show why the English had so much trouble with us scots!..." was the last thing Zoller had heard from Taggart before his bellows turned to static._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Angrily, Zoller yanked out the vial of Drive and threw it away. It hadn't been worth a damn, as far as he was concerned. In fact, it had made things worse.<p>

He knew he needed to call for help, but with most of his communication systems damaged, all he had left was his suit's radio. There was little hope that anyone could pick up its signal, but he had to try.

"Mayday! Mayday! This is Ensign Zoller of the European Space Navy! I am adrift and without power, and my oxygen is running low! Please help!"

At first he shouted his message, hoping to lend some extra strength to his signal, but then he realized that he was wasting extra oxygen for nothing.

He repeated his message for aid, all the while thinking about what had brought him here, to this very moment. It had begun with the dreams of a boy that wanted to fight aliens in space. It had continued with the Tarsus Advanced Aeronautics Programme, and ended with Roland. So much effort, so much dedication, so much _money_... All so that he could become a hero.

And this was how things would end. He would choke to death alone in the dark, with no one knowing of the exploits or the follies of his first battle. Perhaps scavengers would find his frozen corpse one day, as they picked his ancient machine apart for valuable salvage.

Tears welled up in his eyes. It was so stupid. Why hadn't he listened to Taggart? Why hadn't he simply waited? They would have been safe and sound back in the Acheron at this very moment, telling everyone to prepare for an impending Geth attack... and that's when Zoller began to bawl. He had failed the Acheron. The carrier would come under attack, and it would be destroyed, and the people on Noveria would soon follow. It was all his fault.

The oxygen tanks were empty; all he left to breathe was in his helmet.

"Please..." he sobbed and gasped. "I... I don't want to die alone..."

Darkness took him, before he could see the giant dark sword approach...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Breathe in.<p>

Breathe out.

The sound of his breath echoed in the transparent mask, awakening him.

Zoller opened his eyes, and the sudden surge of light streaming at his retina caused him to flinch and close his eyes again. He slowly let the light through his pupils, bit by bit, before he opened his lids fully again.

His vision was blurry. All he could make out were ever shifting blotches of phosphenes, white lights, and dark shapes.

A face came within in his field of view. The girl was pale as Luna and her large eyes were the colors of strawberries, though her irises were pink. Her mouth was small, but shapely, and the line between her lips reminded him of the squiggly lines he used to draw as a child to represent birds in the sky. She was beautiful, unearthly so.

"Bist du ein Engel?" he muttered, weakly. "Bin ich tot?" Yes. He was dead, he had to be.

"Doctor Ross! He's awake!" the angel shouted, with her delightful voice, and he realized that was an odd thing for an angel to say.

His eyes focused. He realized from his surroundings he was in an infirmary, and that he was very much alive. He wasn't sure he knew how he felt about that.

"Zoller!" he heard a familiar voice call to him. It was Hermes Smith's, and his face suddenly loomed over Zoller, in a mixture of anger and worry. "Mate, what the hell happened?! I was looking all over for you! Where's Taggart?!" He shook his shoulders. "Where is he?!"

"I... I don't know..."

"Hey!" shouted a woman, an Asian-European with black hair. "Don't make me call the marines over, _Ensign_ Smith! I won't have anyone abusing my patients!"

Smith was cowed, and the woman began to examine Zoller, all the while asking him a few questions.

"Ensign Zoller?" she asked as she shone a pen light in his eyes. "Do you know where you are?"

Zoller took one look at her uniform, and the answer was obvious. "I am on a United States vessel... The Durendal, this must be the Durendal, yes?"

"That's right... Well, it looks like we got to you just in time. You ability to deduce is intact, and there's no delay in your pupil's response. Do you remember what happened to you?"

"Yes! Yes, I must speak with the captain! The Geth! The Geth are coming!"

"Slow down," the doctor soothed him. "Now, start from the very beginning..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the European utility corvette undocked from the Durendal's port airlock, Grey cursed under his breath. Partly because a bunch of damned European boots walked on an American vessel, but mostly because of the news he had just heard.<p>

"Goddamn it. The Geth. And we're not talking a frigate's worth, either. They've got a small carrier group out there."

"Don't forget the Krogan battle barge," said Hein, as he beckoned Grey to follow him back to the cargo bay. "There's bound to be quite a few Krogan in there, too."

"What are they doing here, anyway? I know Dosadi's big and fancy, but Noveria's still a backwater."

"It makes a sort of sense that Saren would attack this place. It represents the growth of human influence on both the economic and scientific landscape of the galaxy, after all... but I suspect he's after something else."

"This guy?"

"Possibly. Or perhaps something else."

"Sir, may I suggest a course of action?"

"Go ahead, though I think I know what you're going to say."

"I think we should abort this mission of yours, and recall everyone. All hands on deck when the Geth attack."

"The Durendal isn't quite combat worthy yet, Grey."

"I know that. I mean we run. Whoever this Ramsus is, he's not worth risking our necks over."

"And the people on Noveria?"

Grey's voice rose just a bit, but the anger there was apparent. "If the Europeans wanted my help defending their rich corporate fatasses, then they shouldn't have walked out on us on Mars!"

"Yes, well, regardless, I suspect that Ramsus has something to do with why the Geth are here, nonetheless. No, the mission will continue. Prep your men for a ride down on Noveria. My new secretary has secured the Copperhead a flight permit that should allow it to bypass the defense satellites. Tell Flemming to paint the craft in civilian colors, and make sure you do the same for your gear. If anyone asks, you're a bunch of mercs, so look the part."

"Just like Caleston?"

"Try to mix it up a little more this time. You've got the Demonica, yes? I think this will be an ideal field test for it. In the meantime, I'll send a warning to Brea and our dear chief engineer."

Grey couldn't say that he agreed with Hein on this, but he was the Colonel.

"Can I take the Turian with us, at least?"

"Oh no, he's still working on that icing problem. Maybe next time."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Gather the vials and be paid handsomely. That was the deal. For Damien Raffaelli, 2.5 million Nuyen could pay the bills long enough for him to figure out what to do next. He had been livid at the news that someone at Manticore had gotten him fired from the SSC, but any fantasies of taking some form of revenge on the bastards had quickly dissipated when he found that package in his locker as he cleared out his belongings. Inside was a bone conducting headphone as small as a button, a Nuyen stick, and a note that said <em>put it on.<em>

_..._

_"Hello, Mr. Raffaelli," said a warped, scrambled voice. "I have heard that you've recently lost your job."_

_"I'll bounce back. I always do."_

_"Unlikely. You're not exactly welcome back in your old circles in Lower Dosadi, from what I hear. And once Manticore put you on their black list, well... I could wish you all the luck with finding work in Dosadi, but that would do you no good. It just so happens I am in need of a good runner — a courier, to be precise."_

_"I might be interested. What's the job?"_

_"Pick up several items across Middle Dosadi, and deliver them to a location. The specifics will be given to you on a need-to-know basis."_

_"And those items being what? Drugs?" It had to be drugs. Or something worse. You didn't call a runner just to ferry a love letter._

_"That is none of your business. Concern yourself only with the delivery."_

_"And what's the pay?"_

_"Two point five million Nuyen. That's twenty-five thousand Euros, enough to set you and your family up for quite a while. How is your mother, by the way? I hear her damp lung is getting worse..."_

_The concern was so disingenuous that Damien's face contorted in disgust. "It's none of your business."_

_"Of course, of course. Now then, in the package I left you a credstick. Inside is an initial payment of two hundred and fifty thousand Nuyen, to get you outfitted for the job. Slot it, and I'll consider the job accepted."_

_Before Damien could slot the stick, the voice spoke again. "And before you even think about taking the money and leaving, keep in mind that the credit stick will give me enough information to make your financial life far more miserable than you can imagine. Once you slot it, you are fully committed to the job. And who knows? This may be the start of a lucrative partnership..."_

_Damien thought about what the anonymous caller was offering. It was true, what he said. Between his sordid past as a gang-member and his being blackballed by Manticore, there wouldn't be much in the way for honest work for him. And not only was his mother ill, but his younger brother, David, was a bright, smart boy with an even brighter future ahead of him. A good education at Tarsus costs a lot of money, and Damien had sworn that he would do anything for David to get it._

_He slotted the credstick. _

_..._

Being a runner in Dosadi meant several things. One, you were really, really good at Parkour. Second, you know all the dead spots — where the sensors weren't watching, the passages where your goods couldn't be scanned, where neither the SSC nor Manticore poked their noses in. Third, it meant that you had your hands on some Urban Maneuvering Gear. After all, the human body could only go so fast or leap so far. To be a good Runner, you needed to run just as fast as a car, and get from one point of Dosadi to another within at most 30 minutes.

That was what the UMG was for. It was essentially a VI-operated exoskeleton mounted around the legs, with a pair of electro-adhesive-tipped wire guns mounted on the hips (based on a Fiera invention, apparently) and a tiny eezo core at the base of the spine. The more expensive models had gas-based thrusters, but Raffaelli didn't like those: keeping tanks strapped to the thighs threw off his sense of balance. He much preferred the wrist mounted hook.

Reclaiming his Gear had cost him a bit: over half his initial payment. The man that was responsible for holding it, a small-time gangster named Taha, was not exactly happy to see Damien again, since he had 'sold out' to the corporations. Of course, Taha wasn't so idealistic as to refuse a bribe.

UMG's were technically not illegal in the WTO, and Damien could have just have bought a new one at a store for less. The problem was that breaking in a new set of Gear took time, and that was time Damien's 'employer' was not keen on giving him. Damien's set, a titanium frame with hydraulics and joint actuators, had been customized just for him.

After some calibrations and practice, Damien was finally ready to start the job. He was standing atop a building, looking at a world in a bottle. It would almost be dusk, and the multitude of lights began to dot the concrete and metal. His employer called in. It was time.

_"Connecting to your goggles... done. Are you ready?"_

He stretched his neck from side to side, making a pop, put his black hood up to obscure his face, and put on his AR goggles. Nav data was being fed direct into his eyes, along with the current location and speed of every piece of public transportation in the city.

_[Da Octopusss - Banlieue 13 Musique Du Film] _

"Yes."

"Good. The first pickup is at these coordinates. It'll be at the front desk of a lab. Look for a Salarian tech wearing a blitzball cap. He'll be lounging in the waiting area. You have nine minutes to reach him."

Damien checked the coordinates. "That's... 7 kilometers away..."

"Not a problem, I hope?"

"...No."

"Good. Counting down... now."

Damien leapt off the building, fired his wires at a truck, and executed a Spiderman maneuver, getting enough momentum to leap forward and catch a cable with his hook. He slid down above a train and let himself fall on it. Within the next second, he would be within the field of view of an IMREC cam. To evade it, he hung from the ledge of the train. Inside the cabin, a little boy with fox ears saw him, and waved at him from the window, smiling. Damien nodded at him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Look mommy! There's a man riding outside the choo-choo!" said Jerin, tugging at Mjrn's sleeve.<p>

"Yes, honey..." she said, too busy checking on her 'grocery list' to look. It will be nice to have some real, honest cargo, she thought.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Damien let himself fall on the maintenance platform and rolled. He slid down the metal stairs, catching the attention of a couple of construction workers.<p>

"Damned adrenaline-lovin', suicidal kids!" one of them shouted at him. "Can't you take a car like everyone else?!"

Damien wasn't worried they'd call the SSC on him. After all, Runners were not that uncommon... at least, they weren't until recently. Manticore had been cracking down on them hard... rumor had it that they were kidnapping them and sending them off-world for god-knows-what, and Damien then realized it would be best to stay off the rooftops to avoid those damnable Sturm Krahe drones.

He ran through the shadowy alleys, vaulting over garbage cans and fences, scaling walls and leaping over the occasional person. He arrived at his destination, an office building that he recognized instantly. He had been assigned there when he joined the force. Easy assignment, just stand there and look intimidating... but he had taken the job seriously, and he had identified several entry points a Runner like him could exploit and gain entry. One of these was a large air vent just above the entrance.

And wouldn't you know it, it was still there.

"7 minutes, 30 seconds. Not bad, but you still have to... what are you doing?"

"Being discreet."

Damien made his way out of sight of the floating drones and the guards on the ground, and broke inside the building. From a ceiling grate, he was looking down on the lobby. The salarian with the cap was there, reading an ebook. The package, a small silver case barely the size of a head, sat in front of him on a coffee table.

Damien quietly popped the grate open, and (somewhat awkwardly) shot a wire at the package. The adhesive tip silently latched onto the case, and quickly rose into the open grate, unnoticed by anyone. The VI controlling the cameras wouldn't know what to make of a floating package, either.

"Et voilà. Ni vu ni connu," said Damien.

_"Open the case,"_ commanded the voice.

Inside was a vial of red liquid resting in smart foam. There were two other indentations, one for another vial of the same size, and a larger one.

"There are two more vials to find. A blue one and a larger, clear one. I've added four minutes to your clock. Go."

For his next objective, Damien had to go up to one of the 'floating' buildings. That had... been a little more challenging. For one thing the way was crawling with sky traffic drones, and he thought he saw one of those crows prowling the elevator shaft. Still, after an impromptu elevator ride and hitching another on a sky bus, Damien arrived at his destination, a hotel, with 1 minute to spare.

_"Hold on... damn it, it seems the dead drop hasn't been made. The one with the package is at room 1206. It's a window room on the west side of the building."_

Thankfully, the west side of the building wasn't facing the main road, and foot traffic was low. No one saw him enter the room on the twelfth floor, where a couple of redheads were arguing very passionately over whether or not to have their unborn child's genes modified or not.

_"Please don't get involved in their squabble and just take the vial."_

"...I... wasn't planning on it." Damien whispered into his mic as he took the blue vial, unseen and unheard. What a weird thing to say, he thought.

"And I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear it. Adding 5 minutes to your clock. Nav point updated."

"I've been meaning to ask: What happens when time runs out?"

"Then the people handling the packages have instructions to destroy them, and the mission fails."

"...A little extreme, no?"

"Those are very, VERY dangerous materials. Let's just say someone's head will roll if they fall in the wrong hands."

To reach the last of the vials, Damien had to get past a district wall. Crossing it from above was out: Too many sensors and patrols. The sewers would take too long, and all access points were monitored. That left the gate. For all intents and purposes, the gate was worse, what with the force portcullis ready to snap down the moment its sensors detected contraband. But just besides it was a water pipeline maintenance vent. The inside of the wall was a hazardous course full of hurdles in the form of hot pipes and streams of hot water steam and coolant, but Damien had run it before on a dare.

Once past the pipe maze, it was a simple task to rappel down the wall. A quick sprint took him to a small playground, where the carrier was... not there. Damien sat on a bench, trying to look incognito, and waited.

No one came.

The voiced cursed under his breath. "Damn. Why can't anything go according to plan?"

Damien thought it was a needlessly complicated plan from what he had seen, but he kept that to himself. "Do I still get paid?"  
><em><br>"Not unless you find that vial, you're not!... just a moment... there she is. Head west, a hundred meters."_

"As you wish."

Inside the backstreet between two apartment buildings he found an Asari. She had been badly beaten. Judging by the marks on her clothes, shoes had been involved. She groaned weakly.

"Madame? Madame, are you alright?" he asked, genuinely concerned.

"I... I was mugged." she replied. "A gang of... of punks took my wallet, and..."

"The package?"

"You... you're the courier?"

"Yes, I am. Did they take the package?"

She nodded, and coughed. "They went that way." she pointed further into the backstreet, her expression furious. "Get those little bastards and beat the shit out of them, will you?"

"You need medical help. I'm calling an ambulance."

_"You'll do no such thing,"_ said the employer. _"At least not before you have the package secured. Is that clear?"_

_Two point five million Nuyen,_ Damien reminded himself. "Fine."

The gang of punks in question was a group of rich kids — British, judging by their accents — who were dressed like what the English call chavs, but these so called gangsters were anything but. This was a fairly rich neighborhood, and these were rich kids, pretending to be criminals either to get mommy and daddy's attention or because they were simply bored. Of course, they had grown in confidence lately, and had just graduated to real crime. Damien had no respect for them: he had joined a gang because he had little choice. It was either that or starve. These kids had been born with silver spoons in their mouths. Their parents had bought them a premium education, nice homes, and healthy, athletic bodies thanks to gene-mods.

These kids did it because they thought it was fun.

There were five of them, huddled over the package in a garage, trying to crack it open with a bat. Loud gangsta music played, procedurally generated by a WTO music company just for the teen rebel without a cause.

"Stop them. I don't care how you do it, but stop them."

Damien looked at them from behind cover. The eldest amongst them was maybe 19, and he had an Ares Blackhawk pistol, a large penile extension of a weapon, stuck in his pants... with the safety off. "They're just kids. Stupid, violent kids, but kids nonetheless."

_"Let me put it this way. Little David's future is in the hands of these idiots. Are you going to let them take it from you?"_

"...No."

Raffaelli approached the young would-be gangsters. "That does not belong to you," he said, his french accent fairly strong.

"Wot?" said the Eldest amongst them, quickly posturing himself as the leader of the pack, approaching Damien with exaggerated swagger. "Well, look at that, cutters! We got ourselves a bloody frog! Da fuck you wont?"

"I want that package. I am willing to pay for it."

"Aye? How much jink?"

"...Excuse me?"

"I mean cash, froggie-boy!" the leader said, mockingly. He rubbed his fingers for emphasis.

Damien offered him half of what was left of his advance, but the head of the gang was smarter than he looked. See, he reasoned, if Damien was willing to pay that much for a box, then that meant there was something even more valuable inside. And he also reasoned that if he was willing to let go of that much money, he must have had more.

Right on both counts. The rest of the gang surrounded Damien, casually brandishing baseball bats, golf clubs, and knives in an attempt to intimidate him. Damien had faced down the barrel of an SMG at age seven. He was not impressed.

Sensing his manhood being challenged, the head of the gang tried to draw his pistol. He never got the chance to hold it sideways. The thing went off in his pants.

Violence exploded all around Damien, and years of karate training and a childhood spent with real gangsters had galvanized him into a being of pure, brutal violence. It was no contest. The largest of the bunch went down after Damien had kicked his knee out. The one with the bat was surprised when Damien caught it with his hook, twisted it from his grasp, and jabbed it in his testicles. The one with the knife got a foot in his face before he could stab the former gangster-turned-cop in the back.

The remaining two had more sense, and tried to flee. But since Damien could not afford to get any heat, he fired off his wires into their legs, pulling them down. He drew them back in like fishes, and made sure they would no be going anywhere for a while, not with broken feet.

The fight, if one could call that a fight, was over, and Damien picked up the package.

Someone was sobbing.

It was the eldest of the kids.

Damien squatted next to him, and used his Omni-Tool on the leg wound. He was bleeding bad, but as luck would have it, the slug had gone clean through, and had not even grazed an artery.

"Ah... ah... mum?" the boy whimpered. "Mum...?"

Damien secured the weapon. "Ça, c'est _pas_ un jouet," he said, and made sure it couldn't hurt anyone again. He looked at the young fake chav in the eyes, as the boy whimpered and sobbed, thinking he was going to die.

"J'avais un partenaire, dans les niveaux inférieurs." he said, as he tore off a bit of the boy's shirt and bandaged his wound. "Il s'appelait Daniel. On était inséparables. On était petits, et agiles. On savait qui était qui, dans le souq. Où aller, et comment y aller. Dans une bande, ça ramène le pognon, ça. On livrait des drogues: du Sable Rouge, du crac, de la Zyme. Tu sais pourquoi on faisait ça?"

"Please, man! I can't understand what you're saying! Call a fucking ambulance! Please!"

Damien shut him up by tightening the makeshift tourniquet. "Parce qu'on avait FAIM. Tu sais pas ce que ça fait, ça, de ne pas manger à sa faim. Ça te ronge à l'interieur, et ça devient insupportable, et ça te rends dingue, et tu es prêt à faire n'importe quoi pour te débarasser de cette sensation. Tu prends des risques. Tu prends une job que t'aurais du refuser. Moi et Daniel? On a fait face à un vrai tueur, et il n'a pas hésité à nous tirer dessus. Alors, Daniel?, il se prend une balle dans l'estomac."

He pointed at the wounded boy's stomach, and tapped a spot. "Juste là. Moi, je me suis caché, et le tueur le savait. Il m'a crié que si je lui donnait le paquet de Sable Rouge, il me donnerait un paquet de Gel Médical pour sauver Daniel. J'ai hésité. L'argent ou la vie de mon partenaire? Il... Il a hurlé pendant cinq minutes, me suppliant de venir à son aide. Finalement, j'ai cédé."

_..._

_It was just gel, the stuff fancy people put in their hair to make it go weird shapes. It had taken Damien too long to realize it, and Daniel's red holes were covered with the stuff. Damien hoped that they would dry, and plug the holes, and that the bleeding would stop. It did stop, and Daniel still wouldn't move._

But he stopped crying! That was good! It had to be good!

"Daniel... Daniel? Dit quelque chose..." Damien sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had hoped to keep his brother, but now... now he had **nothing**.

_..._

"Daniel était mon grand-frère. Il avait dix ans. Je n'en avait que huit."

"I don't understand what the fuck you're saying!"

"I know." Damien got up and walked away from the boy, disgusted.

"Please!" the rich kid whined. "I don't wanna die!"

"You're not going to die." Damien said bitterly as he moved the sobbing wrecks on the street into the garage. "Boys like Daniel get to die. Kids down below get to scream and starve and die too soon, but brats like you get to _live on and on_."

Damien cranked the volume on the music player up, drowning out the gang's groans and pleas for help, and left them to suffer.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a slight change of plans, and judging by the way the employer spoke, something had gone a little wrong.<p>

A Manticore gunship flew overhead. Damien thought this was odd, considering that Manticore gunships tended to be used _outside_ Dosadi.

_"Find the quietest, most far out of the way dead zone you can, and stay there for four hours," _he had said._ "I'll give you further instructions then."_

Damien knew better than to argue, and besides, he wanted to take a little break anyways. He entertained himself with the games in his Omni-Tool, although the employer had been very specific about keeping it offline. Finally, the employer sent him his final objective.

Raffaelli was given 15 minutes to make it to his final destination, the Granada hotel. The employer had given him the generous amount of time so that he could be careful as he traveled through the high-security environment of the area. The Granada and its surrounding area had been listed in the top 10 places to visit in the galaxy by some popular blog, and as such received a lot of business from tourism. A safe, unmolested tourist was a happy tourist, and happy tourists meant better word of mouth and more business. As such, the area had a lot of patrols.

Of course, most of the SSC contractors there were rookies. They were a deterrent to crime, and little else. The real muscle would be the Manticore mechs, put out of sight in black armored containers here and there on the street, doubling as advertisements. They even had dynamic AR tags.

He met the contacts in an underpass, a pair of Omar dressed up much like him. One of them was very tall, and the other had the frame of a woman, strangely enough. Judging by the way they clung to the shadows, it was obvious they weren't chipped, and non-chipped Omar meant augmented Omar.

_**"Do you have the package?"**_ said the woman, her voice harshly scrambled. So that was the Trader, Damien thought. The big guy was the protector, then. There to prevent 'unfair transactions'.

"I do." he opened his case. "Do you have my pay?"

She opened a small attaché case of her own, and inside of it were a dozen pre-paid Nuyen sticks. _**"These are yours once we make sure the goods are both genuine and intact."**_

She took the two colored vials, and slotted them into the clear one, forming a T. The liquids mixed together, and instead of turning purple, turned a bright green. The trader nodded.

In turn, Damien checked the sticks. They were all legit, and the money was all there. He handed them his earpiece, and the transaction was concluded.

And just like that, Damien Raffelli's involvement in this story was over.

...Or so he hoped. The Shadow Broker had watched him, judged him a potential asset, and was not in the habit of wasting good talent when found.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[Mirror's Edge OST - Prologue (Ambience)]<em>

The Granada Hotel, also known as the Stairway to Heaven, was a kilometer-long glowing white spire shaped like a formation of quartz, its transparent sheets of crystal braced by beams of gleaming titanium. Along with its primary role as _the_ hotel to stay in when visiting Dosadi, the whole structure acted as support for a suspended artificial island city. This tiny city within a city was a rich tourist's trap suspended in the air, full of malls, restaurants, and high-income housing. At the other end of the spire was the floof that separated the Middle Dosadi from High Dosadi.

From the bottom of the tower, that floof looked like a city made out of crystals that glowed orange and gold. That color seemed to bleed into the white light of the spire. The further up it went, the more yellow its lights became.

True to its nickname, it was also the primary access point to level 108.

As the courier left, the Omar trader crossed her arms.

_**"...And there goes the guy that kicked me in the head."**_

_**"Is that so?"**_

_**"Yeah, it's him. I really should return the favour."**_

_**"Goto, no. We have work to do."**_

_**"I nearly died!"**_

_**"I remember."**_

_**"Just a bop on the head! I'll cloak, sneak up behind him, and then BAM! Surprise!..."**_

_**"Goto, he's long gone."**_

_**"Hmph." **_Behind her fake Omar mask, Goto sulked.**_ "Speaking of head trauma, how are you holding up?"_**

_**"Doing okay, considering I had a high-yield ultra-compact concussion bomb explode in my face. Thanks for asking..."**_

Jensen, his thoughts fueled more by adrenaline than sense, had attempted to throw the armed bomb as far away into the open sky as possible... but it had been too late. He was just outside the bomb's kill radius when it went off, so his shields took the brunt of the blast along with his Rhino Dermal Armor. The kinetic bleeders handled the rest. Still, he had been knocked down on the floor, and the back of his head had met the floor pretty hard.

Between Kasumi's knowledge in medicine and the Sentinel implants, the mild concussion Jensen suffered from was gone in less than half an hour. Unfortunately, everyone else in the bar was either dead or severely wounded. Jensen, still dazed and confused, had wanted to stay and help, but Goto had insisted that they leave immediately. By the time the SSC and the ambulances arrived, the two cyborgs were long gone.

When Brea had found out what Leng had done, she had commanded that Jensen disguise himself as an Omar and avoid detection altogether. Not a terribly difficult task, considering he was sixty percent synthetic already. Drebin had helped with the disguise, just as he delivered the modified SMGs.

_**"... but I'll be fine,"**_ he continued as he slung the weapon over his back. _**"Are you ready to do this?" **_

_**"Just a sec,"**_ she said, as she double-checked her spy gear. Mounted on a set of belts and holsters over a black skintight bodysuit were various gadgets meant to help with spywork and burglary: ICE picks, Skeleton Smart-picks, thermal charges, mini-drones._**"Ready as I'll ever be."**_

_"Kaylee?" _he contacted Tali'Zorah over the Codec. _"Are you ready to go?"_

_"We've just reached an optimal distance from the Hotel and connected to it via a handful of proxies. Spooky just took his medicine, and he tells me he's ready to start tampering with the internal security network. 893 is driving us around incognito. We're ready."_

_"Alright then. Let's do this."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a first class suite on the seventy-seventh floor, Elsa groaned and stirred herself awake from the stupor induced by the room's subsonics. The bed was so comfortable, its silken sheet smooth against her bare skin.<p>

_Bare skin?_

_Wait._

She shot up from the bed and opened her eyes fully, and realized that she had no idea how she got there. The room was dark, barely illuminated by silhouetting white lighting. She set her foot on the pressure sensitive OLED screen-floor, and in response the entire room lit itself in white light. A small circular readout appeared where her toes touched the floor, detailing blood pressure, heart rate, and other bits of biometric data.

The room was an elegant but nevertheless minimalist example of high-tech neo-modernism. Every corner was curved, and every wall was a pressure sensitive OLED screen. One could change the desktop theme with a voice command.

Contrasting with the industrial elegance of the room were the luxurious pieces of Rococo furniture, all made out of bright, polished silver. The seats and couches, however, were made out of dark silk that gleamed blue.

"...Where am I?" she asked to herself.

_"You are in room 77-404 of the Granada Hotel, Mrs. Devereaux," _said the pleasant synthetic voice. _"Would you like me to have your favorite breakfast brought to you?"_

The Granada. One of the WTO's so-called Smart Hotels. Essentially, the place was run by a very advanced and complicated VI instead of a management staff. Using the building's sensors and a profiling system (assisted greatly by a WTO database), the hotel could predict what you wanted, when you wanted it, and how you wanted it.

Elsa decided to test that. "What is my favorite breakfast, then?"

_"Crèpes with sugar and butter, with a side of toast and nutella, and a glass of milk."_

That did indeed, sound good right about now. Of course, the price of such convenience was the Hotel was watching you, all the time. If you were having a chat with friends, the Hotel was listening. If you were having sex, the Hotel was watching.

"What time is it? How did I get here?"

"It is currently 3:12 AM, local time. You were brought here by Manticore Tactical Solutions contractor Jules Kai Leng yesterday at 11:53 PM."

"...Where are my clothes?"

_"Jules Kai Leng personally removed them and brought them to the laundromat. A change of clothes has been provided to you courtesy of Mr. Scholar."_

Elsa was more than a little horrified at the thought that someone had completely removed her clothes, and worst still, she didn't remember coming here at all, though she did remember waiting for the tall blonde gentleman at the bar. This had all the clues of the morning after a date rape.

She shifted her abdomen, checking for pain. She checked the sheets for blood. Nothing.

"Did I sleep with this Leng?"

_"Despite your state of arousal and inebriation at the time, you did not engage with sexual activity with Jules Kai Leng." _

Elsa breathed a sigh of relief, but caught a hint of a disgusting scent. She tasted her mouth, and found the built up bile of morning breath laced with alcohol. And despite the VI's earlier reassurances... She felt _dirty_, and was overcome with the urge to take a shower.

Sensing that, the Hotel opened the door to the bathroom, lit it up, and activated the shower.

As she cleaned herself up, she received a call from Dr. Nazir. She accepted it, and the VI was considerate enough to make it voice only.

"Allo?"

_"Hello, Elsa. And how are we doing today?"_

"Better. You?"

_"Well, I must say that after being a guest of the SSC, I much prefer Scholar's accommodations. His intentions are pretty transparent, but..." _heshrugged_. _It was no secret that Scholar had been a major proponent of gene modification for European troops, and this secret deal he had worked out with the government would be the first step towards that goal.

"How is Thierry?" said Elsa, changing the subject.

_"Disappointed. I think you hurt his feelings when you left us behind..."_

Elsa winced almost comically. "Sorry about that."

"... and your apparent night of binge drinking disappointed him. This... Leng had to carry you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes while you made some very rude and suggestive comments to... well, everyone in the lobby: the staff, the guests, Scholar himself."

"...That must have been embarrassing," she said nonchalantly as she got out of the shower and dried herself with a towel.

_"Where did you get the money to drink so much anyways? Your blood alcohol level was, well, it wasn't off the charts but a bit difficult to reach with only 50 euros in your pocket."_

She put on her bathrobe. "I met someone. He was quite generous."

_"Someone?"_

"Yes, someone." She sat on the edge of the bed. "A very handsome young man."

_"Really? What was he like?"_

With a relaxed sigh, she let herself fall on the bed, and she smiled. "Hm... One meter ninety. Green and gold eyes. Broad shoulders, athletic... blonde, with a finely trimmed beard. He had a nice suit that made him look like a character straight out of an old vid." She laughed. "All he needed was a hat."

_"Green and gold eyes?"_

"They were artificial... but I found them... I don't know, there was something to them, a subtle intensity in them that I liked."

_"Ah, and this very handsome young man, does he have a name?"_

"Yeah..." she closed her eyes, and tried to imagine how the evening could have went if... if there hadn't been that hole in her memories preventing her from forming a fantasy. "Armitage." Then, she felt a little sad. "I probably won't see him again, am I?"

_"...Probably not. Once we succeed in ensuring your position as Spectre, you'll have a galaxy of responsibility thrust upon your shoulders. A casual romance... won't be in the cards for a very long time."_

"Wonderful. How long until we meet with Scholar so that he can make his pitch?"

_"About... half an hour. Try and enjoy yourself until then. Food and drink on Johnathan Scholar's coin. Take advantage of that, won't you?"_

"Perhaps I will."

_"No alcohol, no coffee. Doctor's orders."_

"_Entendu. À bientôt, Nazir."_

_"Likewise, Elsa. Likewise."_

Alone in her room, Elsa groaned, trying not to be overwhelmed let the feeling that came from knowing her destiny was no longer her own.

"I should have kissed him."she said out loud.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There were two parts to the Granada Hotel. One was the part that you could see. The pretty, glittering skin made of glass, polymers, and OLED walls. All eyes were on it, even the VI's. Traveling these public hallways under Cloak or Camouflage would simply not do. There were pressure sensors all over walls and floors, and if the Granada detected footsteps and didn't have a Chip ID signal to go with them, the nearest SSC substation in the building would be alerted and a team of Hoplites would be sent to investigate.<p>

The other part was the part you couldn't see. The darkened, metallic guts of the system that was responsible for keeping the guests fed, clean, warm, and happy. This was the part that, if one truly wanted to infiltrate a Smart Hotel undetected, one had to crawl through.

While the WTO (using Scholar's money) had indeed built a hotel smart enough to manage itself, the fact of the matter was that it could not magically repair itself. When a fuse shorted out, drones, were sent to replace it. More complicated issues required an on-call engineer. For the sake of appearances, these had to travel through the hotel via maintenance ducts and elevators.

Disguised as a maintenance worker, Jondum Bau was climbing the service elevator shaft. His mission? Find and interrogate AIA agent Bryce Lawson, who was currently staying in the hotel as a guest of Johnathan Scholar. Lieutenant Morgan had been forthcoming with that bit of information, as well as a detailed briefing as to what kind of surprises to expect from a Smart Hotel.

His current objective was a security node on the twentieth floor. Setting up a wireless bypass would allow a support hacker Morgan had hired to create a temporary ID that would allow Bau to walk around as a different individual in the Hotel's eyes, making his task much easier.

As he surprised the two security guards with Neural Shocks and proceeded to hack into the security computer, Bau couldn't shake the feeling that he was part of a much larger game, set up by Morgan, and by extension, the Broker himself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Hank says hi!" <em>said Tali cheerfully as the spider drone waved almost comically at Jensen. For the cyborg, encountering something in an air duct had been a first, though disaster had been averted by quick thinking and hacking from Spooky. The thing skittered away on its six bladed feet, no doubt to scout ahead for more of its kind to hijack.

Adam breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't spotted the thing until it was too late. Were it not for Spooky and his Ono-Sendai, the infiltration mission could have resulted in a bloodbath right from the get-go. He continued down the vent, followed by Goto, until he came across a kitchen manned by a handful of cooks. Two SSC guards were loitering there, wearing white suits trimmed with black. Bright orange insignia marked them as low on the totem pole.

"Have you heard?" said a guard with a slight Italian accent. "There was a bombing at the Firmament."

"Saw it on the news," replied a guard with an American accent. "Damn shame. I met my girlfriend there... Shit, and to think it could have been us. We were planning on going back there for our one year anniversary tomorrow."

"They say it was the work of the Manticore Bomber. It's got the MO: high-yield concussion bomb, laced with Eezo and an EMP for that extra lethal kick."

"I thought the Bomber only targeted Manticore assets."

"Well, a Manticore gunship was seen around there. Could be a couple of their contractors decided to have a drink and the bomber couldn't resist."

"Shit, man. With the civilian casualties in the dozens, there's gonna be a panic, mark my words. Middle Dosadi doesn't react well to terrorism."

Jensen continued on, fuming. This Kai Leng had casually murdered dozens of people just to get to him, and he had much to answer for. As Adam climbed up the maintenance shaft, he pinged Brea over Codec, sub-vocally.

_"What is it?" _asked Brea.

_"Tell me everything you know about Kai Leng," _demanded Jensen.

_"Sergeant Jules Kai Leng, born in Paris in 2146. One meter eighty-seven, ninety-two kilos. No known family save for one sister: Lieutenant Mey 'Red Raven' Leng."_

_"Yeah, I met her."_

_"Don't interrupt. Joined the French Foreign Legion in 2165, and after a tour of duty signed with the Alliance in 2170 as a Marine, and after a six year career decided to go into the private sector to sign on with Manticore. Noted for his impressive talents in Melee, unarmed combat, and stealth. That's all I've been able to pull from this profile in the Manticore databases. Somewhat unremarkable, until he appeared 3 years ago as Scholar's right hand man to replace the original Manticore attaché to EG, who had recently perished in an attack by the Manticore Bomber."_

_"He's just a Sergeant? You would think that Scholar would prefer someone with more authority over Manticore's forces to keep around."_

_"That's what Mey Leng is for. She has as much authority over Manticore as I currently do over the SSC, and she's never far from her brother. Besides, PMC ranks aren't quite as rigid as the US Marines."_

_"Why him? Why not Mey Leng herself?"_

_"Near as I can tell, Jules Leng must have played an important part in the capture of the Bomber, and was rewarded accordingly while Mey Leng was functionally demoted since working directly for Scholar would have plenty of benefits. It would also explain how he was able to copycat him for that... surprise he left you at the Firmament."_

_"Who was the Bomber, exactly?"_

_"A disgruntled Manticore employee by the name of Hayden Draven. He admitted to the bombings and Manticore took care of his trial and sentencing... discreetly."_

_"Is that all? There's got to be more to it."_

_"There might be. My predecessor here had an interest in the Bomber and an unsolved murder-rape case, but neither of us have been able to make much of a connection between the two."_

_"Hm..."_

_"Is something bothering you?"_

_"Yeah, a few things... I'm also wondering why Kai Leng didn't make sure I was dead."_

_"Who knows? Our profile on him marks him as a classical psychopath, with a touch of sadist for good measure. Could be he's toying with you for fun. His mistake. Look, enough about this; have you reached your objective?"_

_"Almost. I'll get back to you."_

The objective in question was a secure database where guest data was being stored. It was deep in the center of the building, and accessing it was nearly impossible without tripping an alarm or two. Thankfully, Brea had made 'arrangements', and someone had been crucial in helping Spooky disable the server room's sensors.

Jensen Breached six patrolling drones, and let Kasumi handle searching the database for Elsa's current location, as well as that of the three AIA agents.

_"Objective completed," _reported Jensen over Codec. "No alerts so far."

_"Good."_ replied Brea_. "Where are they?"_

_"Blondie's chillin' in room 77-404," _said Goto. _"The three spooks are five floors above her at 82-401"_

_"Spooky just summoned the service elevator to your floor," _said Tali._ "You can ride on top of it up to 77."_

_"Roger that," _said Adam. He and Goto made their way to the service elevator shaft. They stepped on top of it, and waited until they reached the seventy-seventh floor.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The elevator's doors opened to the eighty-second, and Bau stepped out of it as Jijel Cherchel, junior maintenance tech.<p>

_"Your ID should hold up for a few hours before the Granada's VI updates its records," _said Morgan over Bau's headset. _"Or until you draw attention to yourself."_

_"Understood." _Bau approached the hotel room and ran a basic diagnostic on a nearby electronic wall, which quickly turned into a makeshift surveillance suite. Black windows appeared on the large sheet of OLEDs, with text streaming down and across them. To the naked eye, that was just that: garbled text. To the visual sensors on Bau's Omni-Tool, it was raw audio-visual data to be decoded in real-time. The images were then discreetly funneled into the Spectre's AR glasses, giving him a view of room 401.

Elizabeth and Theodore, dressed in finely embroidered suits of burgundy and silver (colors worn by the more militant members of The Order church, Bau noted) sat in front of the other at a small round table of silver, playing cards. The deck itself was made out of rectangular blue cards, with people, swords, cups and wands drawn on them. A handful of metal rods lay on the table, next to a stack of cards.

_"I win this hand, sister," _said Theodore, his voice unexpectedly deep._ "I think I shall claim..." _his finger hovered above the rods._ "...the Ogre."_

Elizabeth smiled. _"Then I shall have to make an attempt for your Barghest, brother." _Her voice, Bau noted, was young, but sultry.

_"You may try..."_

Elizabeth drew a card, and looked at it fondly. Bau zoomed in. Printed on the card was an illustration of a horned beast above and between a man and a woman, and the Terran English word 'Devil' written below the image.

_"Soon..._" said Elizabeth wistfully.

_"Yes, sister. Soon,"_ replied Theodore as he lay a card on the table.

_"But how soon?"_

_"As soon as Scholar realizes the folly of holding an Imaginary Number."_

_Imaginary Number?_ wondered Bau. _What did Mathematics have to do with this? Must be a codename for something. Must look into that._

Elizabeth giggled. _"Not long then?"_

_"As I said, dear sister. Soon."_

Lawson walked into view as he shut down his Omni-Tool, and spoke to the twins, his tone commanding.

_"It's time to go." _He made his way to the door, and when he realized that the twins were not getting up to follow, he turned to them and repeated himself.

_"He thinks he's in charge,"_ said Elizabeth, giggling. _"How droll."_

_"We all have our delusions."_ said Theodore, amused. _"If you want to vindicate Scholar's obvious and pathetic attempt at appeasing our patrons, by all means, go ahead."_

_"He's desperate for results, **any** result,"_ commented Elizabeth,_ "to prove himself useful..."_

Theodore snorted. _"But don't expect us to eat the same scraps. Bring us **his** location—"_

_"—Or better yet, **hers**."_

_"—and then we shall act."_

_"Bring us neither..."_

_"...And your father will have to... reevaluate your design."_

Lawson balled his fists, and relaxed. _"So you're just going to sit here. I can't imagine your superiors will be happy to—"_

Theodore cut him off. _"We are doing something."_

Elizabeth drew a card. _"We are waiting."_

_"Scholar's lies can't last much longer..."_

_"...And eventually, the truth..."_

_"...Or his portion of it..."_

_"...Will be revealed."_

It was Lawson's turn to snort. _"Where, in those Tarot cards? Oh, PLEASE..."_

Theodore reply was flat and sudden._ "No."_

_"Though they have told us something..." _Elizabeth drew another card, and casually tossed it at Lawson, who caught it effortlessly. Bau zoomed in: on the card was printed a winged man with a trumpet, with 'Judgement' written on the bottom. _"...the Shadow of Elysium is close,"_ she said, cryptically.

_"I don't believe in Batarian fairy tales,"_ said Lawson.

_"One should have more respect for fairy tales..."_

_"...especially in our presence."_

_"After all..." _Theodore picked up one of the metal rods and flicked it between his fingers. _"...fairy tales are our stock in trade."_

Lawson dropped the card on a nearby commode, and left. As the door opened nearby and Lawson stepped out, Bau stopped the 'diagnostic' and began to stuff his equipment in his custom toolbox. He made a casual salute with a spanner at the AIA agent, a bluff meant to defuse Lawson's guard. After all, what kind of spy calls attention on himself? With his painted skin, Bau was unrecognizable, and Lawson simply ignored him and walked away.

He followed Lawson to the elevator, only for the human to rudely close the door as Bau meekly tried to get him to keep it open.

_"Morgan,"_ he typed on his Omni-Tool. _"I don't suppose I can get your... contractors to locate Lawson again?"_

_"No need," _replied Morgan over the wireless. _"Elsa Devereaux just left for her meeting with Scholar. Call the elevator in front of you, wait for her to get on it. Wherever she goes, Lawson will be there."_

Elsa Devereaux, one of the new human Spectre candidates. Her presence here had been... unforeseen. Still, it looked like whatever Lawson was doing here involved her somehow, so keeping an eye on her may very well lead to something interesting. On the other hand. "Hm... I could simply go the conference room she's supposed to meet Scholar, if Lawson will be there."

_"Then I hope you're a good guesser. The upper floors of the Granada are a maze of offices and conference rooms for EG and its subsidiaries."_

_"I see." _Bau called the elevator, and waited.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, guys..."<em> said Tali over the team's codec channel. _"Spooky found a video file, and we both think you should see this. I'm streaming it to your AR interfaces."_

The video was assembled from sensor data in Devereaux's room, just after she had been brought in. A tall, well-built man dressed in a closed longcoat was there with her, looming over her naked body.

_"That there's Kai Leng." _said Kasumi._ "No mistaking that gelled up mess he calls hair. Well, it doesn't take a genius to know what happens next. Kaylee, we're kind of busy here..."_

_"I'm fast forwarding, keep watching..."_

The video sped through the hours that the French woman slept. Adam was dreading the moment that Leng would do something unspeakable, but that moment never came. Eventually, Leng's Omni-Tool beeped, and he left the room, leaving Elsa unmolested.

_"Huh. Creepy," _commented Kasumi._ "Though I guess it could have been worse. Still... _creepy._"_

_"Kaylee?"_ asked Adam._ "Can you give me a closer look at his face?_

_"I can. Rewinding to timestamp 1.0," _she said to herself._ "Enhancing two twenty-four, one seventy-six, moving in and around... there."_

The video was now a close-up of Leng's face. His expression was slack, dull, and devoid of anything. No arousal, no glee, not even disgust. He was simply staring off into nothing. His eyes were dry, lacking any shine. Eventually, he blinked, and his eyes moistened, but that did not change the overall unsettling effect.

_"...He's like a damned zombie."_ commented Jensen.

_"I know..." _muttered Tali, horrified._ "It's like... it's like someone took everything away from him and left an empty shell behind."_

_"Don't feel too sorry for him there, Kaylee," _said Kasumi._ "He probably couldn't get it up. And I've dealt with him a lot longer than you have, so I can tell you he loves his work way too much to deserve any pity. If I get the opportunity? I'm shanking the asshole right in the ribs."_

_"Devereaux's moving," _said Adam. _"We have to go."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a conference room on the 200th floor of the Granada Hotel, at an oval table made of electronic glass, a meeting between representatives of the European Union and Europa Genomics was taking place. Introductions had been made, though the only person who really needed to be introduced was one Kenneth Caffrey, a well-dressed, boyishly handsome young man who claimed to be Scholar's assistant.<p>

Devereaux wasn't fooled. The man carried himself a little too much like he had been trained by the military, and he did not do a whole lot of assisting. It was more likely he was there as Scholar's bodyguard.

The conversation was held in English, for Doctor Nazir's sake. While French was Devereaux and Segal's first language, and Scholar spoke it fluently, Nazir had never been all that good with it, and was educated in medicine at Oxford. English allowed him to keep an inquisitive eye on Scholar's salesmanship.

"Yes, you could go to Binary Helix," said Scholar sitting at the head of the conference table. "And they would offer you a much, much better price... but then," he chuckled. "you would get what you paid for."

"A guarantee of 20/15 vision does sound very good on top of everything they offer in their standard package," said Nazir, sitting next to Devereaux. "A 12 percent increase in clotting along with an eight percent increase in adrenal response... At 3 million credits, that's practically a bargain."

"And when their modifications fail to stick to Ms. Devereaux's genes, they'll point at the fine print that absolves them of responsibility due to a quirk of her genetics, at which point they'll gladly take your money. Even in the best case scenario, their mods will require at least a month to take, even with constant nano-compound topical therapy and daily injections. Gene therapy won't get you the results you need within the allotted time. Fortunately for you..."

Scholar typed on the table, and brought up a window full of relevant medical data for Nazir to peruse. Caffrey 'slid' the window over to where Nazir was sitting. On the screen-surface was a schematic of a worm like creature, curled up in the shape of a nine.

"We at Europa Genomics have been pursuing alternate methods of biomodification. We've finished testing a set of micro-organs meant to be implanted in key locations throughout the body to release various mutagens, chemicals and retroviruses to enhance the body's performance. With a ten hour surgery and a two-day healing coma, we can increase the speed of a human being's clotting by twenty percent, slow down muscle degeneracy due to low-physical activity by fifty-three percent, and increase adrenal responses by nineteen percent... all with a point zero five percent chance of failure. Moreover, the implant you're watching generates Nagashima Cells, which, over a period of 3 days, can repair nerve damage caused by Drive overuse, improve the reflex arc by 35 percent, enhance blood oxygenation by 27 percent, and double the resilience of bones." He gave Devereaux a meaningful look. "All very good improvements for a pilot for a high-performance craft, wouldn't you agree?"

"So, how come you're not giving this to Alliance soldiers?" asked Devereaux, skeptically.

"The Alliance's stance on bio-modification is clear: nothing past peak-human." said Scholar. "With the exception of Biotics, of course. They haven't quite budged from it for the past two decades."

"Neither have we," said Ségal.

"And yet, here you are," said Scholar. "Let's be honest here, the Alliance's position is just political posturing and thinly veiled human supremacy. On Earth, times are changing, and the growing military might of the Coallition will require some... flexibility on that count, no?"

"Perhaps. And how much will these enhancements cost?"

"Around sixty million nuyen."

Captain Segal's eyebrows rose. "That's... quite an investment."

"Well worth the price, I assure you. If the European military is interested, I can arrange a bulk deal of thirty-five million per head."

"I need to speak with my associates about this. Can you give us a few minutes?"

"Of course, of course!" Scholar rose from his seat, and motioned Caffrey to follow him. "Take as much time as you need, I will be right outside."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jensen and Goto disabled another security node while, unbeknownst to them, Jondum Bau was trying to 'repair' a terminal on the same floor as the conference room, allowing Spooky's cyberspace avatar to easily hijack a few cameras. He quickly fed the image and sounds to the rest of the team, while Bau eavesdropped through his own set.<p>

...

_"You've been holding out on us," said Bryce._

_"Yes. I have." Scholar smiled, while Leng stood next to him. "As I've said, the Alliance's position is very clear on this and as much as I would like to make your marines better, faster and stronger—"_

_"I don't care about the grunts. I'm talking about our Special Ops squads. Some of them are still working on MarsGene's Epsilon-9 and you're offering something three times better to the Europeans? What if Segal reports this to his superiors?"_

_"Well! I certainly hope so. Your agency was not exactly keen on the idea of Bio-Augmentation, either. Are you interested in getting modified yourself? I can provide you with a discount."_

_"I don't need them."_

_"...Yes, of course. Can't mess with the perfection that is Lawson, yes?" Scholar snorted. "Take it from me, boy, there's no such thing as perfection. Your biotics are exceeded by the Asari, your reflexes are exceeded by the Fiera, and don't get me started on your strength, stamina, and resilience. The rest of the galaxy offers far, far better."_

_Lawson's jaw was tense, but he did not lose his head. "Send the agency a proposal, and perhaps we might be able to do business."_

_"Of course."_

_"Speaking of which, do you think Segal will bite?"_

_"He has no choice."_

_..._

_"We have no choice," said Segal._

_"Of course we do! Ségal!" shouted Nazir. "Don't let the politicians force Elsa to become... a bloody monster! All we need is to have EG repair Elsa's nerve damage and to put her back in a cockpit!"_

_"That's not good enough! Not against the likes of Frost and Yang!"_

_"It doesn't have to be!"_

_"It does! Europe NEEDS this! Once the war with the Coalition goes into full swing, the Alliance will recommend that the Citadel races stay out of the conflict! Europe MUST have the Council's backing to have some hope to bringing the war to a swift end, or the entirety of Sol will be set on fire! If all Scholar wants to ensure Elsa is selected is a few hundred thousand Euros, then so be it!"_

_"It's not you or the government that will be paying the price, it's Elsa, damn you!"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"What Scholar failed to mention is that EG's techniques have a very, VERY good chance to cause tumors—"_

_"—Cancer is curable."_

_"And the Nagashima cells used to speed up the mutation process? Those things can't process Eezo! All it takes is one condition that requires Element Zero-based drugs and Elsa will be doomed!_

_"EG will take care of it," Segal said dismissively._

_"So that's it then? We force her to depend on EG's mad science to live because of the Coalition? The Coalition, always the bloody Coalition! Like some Bogeyman under our bed, and our so-called leaders as children before the threat of an army of robots!"_

_Elsa watched impassively as the two men argued her eventual fate. Once upon a time she would have argued with them both, or just told them to shut the hell up. Not on that day. On that day, nothing really mattered._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"I must congratulate you on Elsa's current state of mind," said Scholar. "I suspected that she would be quite rebellious, but instead I find her quite pliable."<em>

_"What makes you think we had anything to do with that?" replied Lawson innocently._

_"Come now, one of the world's greatest snipers and Wanzer pilots loses a sniper duel with Saren? A sniper who just so happened to have a deep emotional connection with a prospective Spectre? That's too much of a coincidence... You had a hand in this."_

_"Hayha's death was unfortunate. I hear he lost due to a hardware error. Some kind of miscalibration of his fire control system? Such a shame..."_

_"Such a shame indeed."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The European navy officers let Scholar and Lawson back in. They had accepted the deal, and after a few signatures and checking the conversion rate on a attaché case full of platinum to Nuyen, the deal was struck. Elsa Devereaux would be discreetly augmented, and if all things went according to plan, the Council would make her a Spectre.<p>

Scholar was about to escort them to the facility on the tower's top floor when a call came in for Captain Segal, and he took Scholar and Nazir aside.

"There's a Geth fleet hiding behind the moon," said Segal.

Nazir was shocked, but Scholar kept his cool. "I will notify the SSC. Their battlestation will remain in geosynchronous orbit above Dosadi. I trust that your ship will remain in defense of Noveria?"

"Of course, though I suspect the Geth are here for us."

"Is that so? Whatever for?"

"I am afraid that's confidential. In any case, I must return to the Acheron quickly and take command."

"I shall arrange transport for you right away. Will Ms. Devereaux and Dr. Nazir be coming with you?"

"Of course we are!" Nazir answered. "If there's a battle then Elsa—"

Segal cut him off. "Elsa is of no use to us right now. She stays here, as far from the danger as possible."

"If that is the case," said Scholar, "then Dr. Nazir will have to stay as well."

Nazir gave Scholar an annoyed look. "I beg your pardon?"

"You're Devereaux's physician, are you not? We'll need your input to ensure the surgery goes smoothly."

"...The crew will have dire need of me in the infirmary, once the Geth attack." He shook is head, not liking the idea of leaving Elsa here alone, but his duty to the crew was paramount. "No, I can't stay here."

"Chapel will cover for you," said Segal. "Stay with Elsa. That's an order, doctor."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Hoo boy." <em>said Kasumi. _"Things are piling up, aren't they? Wonder why the Geth are holding back?"_

_"Our, uh... employer seems to think that there's a Geth spy on Noveria, looking for something." _said Tali.

_"And the fleet's waiting for him to call the target. I get ya."_

_"Wait a minute," _said Adam._ "Kaylee, isn't Noveria where you found that Geth scouting group?"_

_"I know, I know... I thought Keenah and I foiled whatever plan they had for the planet, but... It looks we only delayed it."_

_"What were they doing?"_

_"They were setting up some kind of antenna, in a configuration that we had never seen before. When Keenah and I destroyed most of them, the last platform remaining initiated the antenna's self destruct and began to format its brain. I stopped it just in time; it was just about to erase Saren's data."_

_"And for that the galaxy thanks you."_

_"Heh. You're welcome. Just wish the galaxy would do something about _Saren_, now. And the Geth."_

_"Looks like this Segal has got that covered, and others will follow. And if I come across anyone that looks like a Geth infiltrator, you'll be the first to know. Any tips as to how I can spot one?"_

_"None, really. The Flotilla has never dealt with a platform capable of fooling anyone that it is an organic. I've also been scanning the airwaves, and I haven't caught anything that looks like a Geth signal. I guess you could try using your Smart-Vision on everyone you come across."_

Brea entered the conversation via Codec._ "Jake? Goto? I've decided that you and Bau are to link up."_

_"Is he in trouble?"_

_"No, but it looks like there's only one access point to the floof, and you're bound to encounter one another. Better as allies than strangers, wouldn't you say?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa and Nazir, followed closely by Scholar and his two bodyguards (one of whom looked strangely familiar to Elsa), stepped out to what the elevator's interface referred to as the 'top floor'. It was anything but. They were now out of the Granada Hotel, and on the first floor of the Noveria branch of Europa Genomics. Outside was a massive docking ring for authorized aircars, buses, and other vehicles, so that EG employees could come directly to work without bothering with going through the hundreds of the hotel's floors.<p>

The EG lobby's decor wasn't all that different from the hotel's, although it did favor a lot more glass walls and partitions, and the place was illuminated by lamps that dipped slightly away from pure white light and into blue. The tone of the place was stark, and depressed Elsa a great deal. There were patrolling SSC officers everywhere, their weapons at rest, adding a feeling of oppression.

Scholar promised her that the facility was just two more elevator rides away, and Elsa thanked her lucky stars that the elevators in Dosadi were so fast, not like the ones on Alliance ships.

The back of her neck tingled. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

After yet another elevator ride (set to express), the group arrived at a security checkpoint run entirely by Manticore. There was no decor here. Just pure, bare bones Industrial, with gunmetal walls reinforced by Gunmetal beams. Stairs led them to the level above.

It was a tra, station, with skyrails headed in the cardinal directions. Apparently, the entire floof separating upper and middle Dosadi had a small city of its own suspended off of it, and travel across it was done by train.

They took an eastward one, though they had to wait for a dark haired man in an EG uniform to load some Bio-hazard containers.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the tram station's security checkpoint, a guard was leaning back in his chair, meditating on a porno magazine. It was the graveyard shift, and the most interesting thing to happen in hours had come and gone. One creepy EG gopher, Scholar himself, followed by a fine french dame. After that, the station went back to being dead, save for six Copleys and his partner manning the camera station.<p>

It was boring work, really, since the machines did all the work. Occasionally the guard had to process paperwork, but even that was a fairly automatic process. He had done it so many times, after all.

Then the cameras went out.

"What the?" muttered the tech.

"Something wrong?" asked the guard.

"Yeah, cameras just stopped working, sensors aren't reporting in."

"Call tech support," said the guard dismissively.

The tech tried, but he got no answer. "... Okay, now I'm getting a little spooked."

"Wh—"

The guard heard a scratching noise on the thick pane of reinforced glass that kept him separate from the world outside the security station. Three scratch marks were slowly being traced on it, digging deep into the barrier.

Then another set came along, and then another, and another. Each one made a slow, agonizing scratching sound that made the guard grind his teeth in fear. Eventually a tinny, growling voice made itself heard from behind the transparent barrier, its owner invisible, and distorting the air slightly around himself.

_**"Greetings."**_

"Uh... hello?"

_"**Have you seen an AIA agent pass by? He was accompanying Johnathan Scholar, I believe."**_

The guard hammered the silent alarm button hidden under his desk. "Uh, well, mister Scholar is a busy man and uh, do you..." the guard gulped. "...do you have an appointment?"

_**"No."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Call me Jon."<p>

The introductions were brief, and all business. As far as Jondum Bau knew, Adam (as Jake) and Goto were just two freelance corporate spies disguised as Omar working for Morgan, and as far as the two of them were concerned, he shared the same profession with them. Of course, the duo were more than aware of who he really was, while he could only suspect that there was more to them than they let on. The entire time it took for them to make their way past EG headquarters, he kept a close eye on them, making sure they were always ahead of him and not in a position to backstab him.

Their hackers sent them up to date automap data of the tram station, and Bau was impressed at how quickly they had formulated a plan of infiltration. Goto and Jake would sneak in independently under cloak, while Bau would try and bluff his way in.

That plan died the moment they opened the door to the central tram station.

The security station that barred the way to the trams had been sliced apart, and the two men inside of it had been cut in two.

"Oh no. Oooooh no no no no this can't be good," said Goto.

"Weapons out," said Jake, as he withdrew his modified SMG and switched off the safety. The trio approached the security station, and investigated the damage. No bullet holes, and the guards' guns were still in their holster.

"This wasn't a fight, this was a massacre," stated Bau, "What could have done this?"

Jensen examined the glass. "Huh, interesting."

"You found something?" asked Bau.

"Yeah. Claw marks." He switched to Codec. "_Hey, Morgan? Does Manticore use any mechs shaped like beasts or somesuch?"_

_"...Closest thing that comes to mind is the Jackal Biomech,"_ answered Brea._ "It's got four legs, but it's a heavy mech, like the ZORG."_

Jensen, Goto and Bau went pas the checkpoint the upper floor, past the horribly damaged force-field struts, and walked up the steps to the upper floor. They spread out, and they found the tram platforms littered with Copley parts: Some had been sliced apart, and others had been _torn_ apart. _"Does it have claws?"_

_"None that I've ever seen. Why?"_

_"Well, I've got some bad news. Someone or... something just sliced and diced and clawed its way through the checkpoint and into the tram station. It's a mess. All of the Copleys have been destroyed."_

_"Goddammit!" _Brea cursed_. "...I'm calling this mission off!"_

_"What? Why?!"_

_"Manticore will be responding to the alarm any minute now! Get—"_

Tali interrupted her. _"Uh, there's no alarm."_

_"...What?"_

_"There's no alarm. Someone completely disabled the tram station's security before we could."_

Brea was at a loss for words, feeling a bit silly for jumping to conclusions so quickly._ "...Nevermind, then. Proceed as planned. But wait, if you didn't disable it, then, who did?"_

_"I have a better question," _said Adam._ "Which tram did Scholar take? There's four. One of them's still docked, so that's out. Kaylee, can you ha—"_

Adam remembered the sorry state of the security station, and didn't bother to ask Tali to check the thing for security footage.

_"Nevermind. I'll figure something out."_

"Hey Jake! Jon!" shouted Goto. "I found someone! He's hurt, bad!"

The survivor of the attack was an asian man in his late twenties, slumped against the wall of a janitor's closet. His uniform, with a nametag that said 'T. Kovacs', was torn at the belly, along with the skin. His guts were splayed in an arc in front of him, and mingled with the blood there were clumps of brown. From the smell, it wasn't hard to guess what those were.

Kovacs' jaw was missing, torn off, and Kasumi told Adam and Jondum that while she had done her best to keep the guard stable using Medi-Gel, there was nothing she could do about the internal bleeding.

"How long does he have?" asked Adam, as he knelt behind the doomed man. He was slumped against the wall, groaning weakly.

"Not long," she said.

"Does he know where Lawson's tram went?" asked Bau.

Adam and Kasumi just stared at Bau. "His jaw is missing."

"Yes, but he can point."

"...Worth a shot," said Adam. "Hey, Kovacs? Can you hear me?"

Kovacs simply blinked.

"Do you know where Scholar went?"

Kovacs groaned, and didn't lift a single finger.

"He's lost a lot of blood," said Goto, shaking her head. "He can't think straight."

Adam sighed. If this Kovacs couldn't tell him where to go, then the three of them would have to take separate Trams and split up, or...

"Goto, get in his head. Pull the answer out of him."

Goto's voice cracked a little. "...J-Jake, he's almost..."

It didn't take Adam long to figure out that jacking in a dying man would be an unpleasant and very likely risky proposition. "There's no time. I know this goes way above what you signed up for, but the longer we delay here, the more likely we'll lose track of Scholar and fail. And we can't fail. We've both got too much riding on this."

A lifetime of Neuropozyne and soap, and the gratitude of the Shadow Broker, that's what Goto had riding on this. She sighed, squared her shoulders, pulled out the DC Mini, and knelt besides Kovacs. She gave him a sedative, then put the device on his head.

"His chip is fractured," she explained. Then, she started to sing to Kovacs, some kind of Japanese lullaby, if the soothing, almost motherly way she sang it was anything to go by.

_"Sakura... Sakura... yayoi no sora wa... mi watasu kagiri..." _

Bau titled his head at the scene, wondering exactly what they were doing.

The sound seemed pleasant to Kovacs, no doubt reminding him of better, more innocent days. His pain seemed to subside, and he tried to smile a happy, jawless smile.

And then, he died.

"Whew... that was interesting. Never dove inside a dying man before..." she took a deep breath. "Okay, I got the Tram. I even got the station."

"Did you get the identity of the one who did all this?" asked Adam.

"That's the funny thing. I had to get it secondhand from Takeshi, but the guy beat the ever loving shit out of him and sliced him up was none other than our favorite security consultant."

"You mean this Kai Leng?" said Bau. "I've heard from Morgan he was a sadist, but this is... What possible reason could he have to hurt a subordinate?"

"You answered your own question: near as Kovacs could tell, it was for shits and giggles."

"Bastard's got such a need for violence he has to beat and kill his own men?" Adam could barely disguise the anger in his ton. "Jesus Christ, what is he, some kind of kind of comic book villain?"

The more Adam heard about this Leng, the more he knew an encounter with him would end with some well deserved violence.

"Anyways," continued Goto, "whoever attacked everyone else... well, Kovacs didn't see him, but he did hear a lot of snarling, roaring, and screaming."

"Let's go," said Bau. "We've wasted enough time here."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the depths of the facility, far from prying eyes, Nazir and Elsa had been powerless when Leng and Lawson held them in powerful chokeholds, while a pair of med-techs, covered head to toe in plastic suits and boxy metal helmets fitted with all kinds of gadgets, dosed them both with a potent sedative. The two of them were promptly put on mechanized gurneys, and were hurried to the Copy room, as Scholar liked to call it. It was really more of a small, two-story surgical theater, with a sealed off control room overlooking the surgical beds.<p>

Scholar and Lawson were looking out the window, down at the pair as the machines started the process, while Leng was keeping an eye on them both.

"Care to explain why you dragged the doctor into this?" asked Lawson. "We only need Devereaux."

"Taking advantage of an opportunity. I'm surprised you didn't think of it: Nazir will be making regular, thorough examinations on her. Best we put him in the know, so to speak. Once we're finished he will actively be working for us in keeping what we did to her a secret."

Leng grunted. "I'm more curious as to why we did the whole song and dance when we could have just kidnapped them from the very beginning."

Scholar eyed Leng. He'd have to work on this, he thought. "Yes, we could have, but this is better: while Devereaux is here, we have the good captain vouching for her current whereabouts to the crew. The less curious minds there are, the better. And besides, Devereaux has demonstrated an ability to escape from bondage."

Leng shrugged. "If you say so."

"Why are you using this older model?" asked Lawson.

Scholar found his patience wearing thin. "Because both you AND Devereaux came unannounced, and there was no time to create a soft-machine version." Then, Scholar rubbed his beard, suddenly remembering something he had meant to ask a while ago. "Say, how is your darling sister?"

"Miranda's—"

"No, the _younger_ one. The _runaway._"

Lawson took a breath. "...Still at large."

"Is that so? Such a shame... Lawson's brother produces the finest piece of synthetic biotechnology and it escapes his grasp. Tsk tsk tsk."

"Hmph. Yes, I'm sure you would have liked to examine her."

Scholar beamed a little. "Indeed! A single sample of stable Nagashima cells could revolutionize our business! Near instantaneous bio-modification! On a scale only dreamed of in the days of nanomachine technology... Again, I must stress what a terrible loss Eve's escape represents for all of us."

"We gave you plenty of Collector artifacts. I'm sure you can cope," said Lawson sarcastically. "Wait, I thought you had a working implant that uses Nagashima cells?"

"We do, and we don't. The cells we came up with can, in theory do the same work as the Nagashima, but in practice they run amok within a matter of hours. As such, the Magatama implant is still in the prototype phase. Not that it matters, since we won't be using that here."

In the lower level, two pods were being brought in. Scholar smiled, he liked this part.

"Ah, the frames are being brought in. I love watching the tissue grow into shape. Care to join me?"

"No thanks," said Lawson, feeling ill. "I have no taste for gore." He left the room without taking his leave.

"Keep an eye on him," Scholar commanded Leng. "Make sure he doesn't go anywhere he shouldn't be."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"We're almost there," <em>reported Adam to everyone on the channel._ "Kaylee, can you give us a map of the place?"_

_"No." _said Tali._" This 'Station Zero' doesn't show up in any municipal databases, and... wait... Spooky tells me that really hardcore corporate security for a secret facility involves shielding the entire place against wireless transmissions from the outside, and have a cable-based LAN for the sake of efficiency and communication."_

_"So you can't help us,"_ said Bau. _"Unfortunate."_

_"No, we didn't say that. All you have to do is set up a connection we can exploit. What you have to do is breach the layer absorbing all the signals and set up a wireless transmitter connected the LAN. After that... well, it'll be up to us to get to the primary objective. Barring any hiccups, all you'll have to do is wait until we're done. Easy."_

Adam looked at Bau. _"Not quite, we still have to find Jon's target."_

_"...Right, I'll piggyback on Spooky and see what I can catch on the security cams."_

_"Thanks, Kaylee."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>[Remember Me OST - High Tension]<p>

As the tram stopped at a small station hidden between two others open to the other employees, a pair of Manticore guards, flanked by two Copleys, investigated what looked like an empty cabin. And it really was empty, for the three operatives had been riding on the top. Under cloak, they gracefully landed on the quay as the guards entered the tram car, and quickly made their way past the entrance.

The lobby was mostly empty save for an Asari secretary bored out of her mind, and a trio of cameras scanning every corner.

_"I don't have much time."_ Bau transmitted the text from his Omni-Tool._ "My 70 seconds of cloak are almost up. I'll find a suitable location as specified by the Quarian."_

_"Roger that. Goto, is the woman chipped?"_

_"I'm getting a signal from her, yeah. I can hack her remotely."_

_"Good. While you're in her head, I'll check out her laptop."_

_"Right, but don't take too long, or your EM cloak will fry your brain."_

_"... Don't worry, it's not a problem for me."_

The plan went off without a hitch, though it wasn't quite fruitful. Goto snuck up on the secretary while the cameras were looking elsewhere, and they missed the bright stream of white and yellow voxels, the sign of a Dream Hack. She found little of relevance. The woman's only job was to greet employees with _'Welcome to EG special projects, how may I help you?'_

Adam had jacked in directly on the secretary's laptop, and was briefly connected to the LAN's email server. He managed to read a few sensitive emails before jacking out, not wanting to risk alerting any ICE to his presence.

It occurred to him just then that this would have been a fantastic time for Aleph to work his technomage juju and just pull what they needed out of this very laptop, but no such luck. Apparently, Mr. Ancient AI Demigod was still asleep.

As Goto and Jensen ducked out of sight, the thief asked the cyborg cop what he had found.

_"A few mentions of sensitive cargo stuck here taking up space. A few samples of artificial skin that came from a place with a redacted name from a redacted location came in. Nothing that gives me a clue as to where Peak 15 is. You?"_

_"Just a login to various accounts, and constant nagging about how she overworked she is. Apparently, this place got busier lately, and she had been greeting people a lot. You'd think you'd find some interesting things in a brain that's been alive for hundreds of years, but nope."_

_"Goto? Jake?"_ texted Bau. _"I found something."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The janitor's locker room was in more or less pristine condition, save for the small section of wall that had been cut on the far wall, exposing the place to the cold winds that came from the Skyrail's tunnel.<p>

"Well," said Goto as she fished out a transmitter and slapped it on the outside. "That's fortunate."

"A little too fortunate," said Bau, as he examined the damage. "Those marks... the same cutting tool was used on the checkpoint at the Tram."

"It's our bloodthirsty 'benefactor', looks like," said Adam. "If he's ahead of us... then the place should have been in flames. Why the change in tactics?"

"I'm guessing he decided to play it safe," replied Goto. "There are a lot more Copleys patrolling here."

"Yeah, well, it won't be long until someone else finds this and raises the alarm."

"No, it'll be a while: it's past midnight, after all. The graveyard shift has yet to end."

"Let's focus on getting the second transmitter in place," said Bau.

"We're going to have to find our way into the cable ducts and slap a bypass and transmitter into a junction," said Goto. She eyed the lockers. "Think we should disguise ourselves? Nobody ever pays attention to janitors."

"You two go ahead," said Adam. "I'll stick to cloaking."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Using his considerable training, Lawson had managed to evade Leng, dodge smart-cams and Copleys, and charm his way into the more restricted areas of the facility.<p>

Lawson found that he liked the place. Every scientist and office worker in there was focused on their work, making efficient use of their time, and did not waste their breaks making idle chatter. It was a well-oiled machine, and every person in it was a component that fit perfectly.

It seemed that the primary cogs in this machine were the various orb-shaped holo emitters in every room. Every person (save Lawson, who wasn't Chipped with Krypto) had a streaming tendril of white and yellow cubic voxels connected from the back of their necks to an orb. From that, Lawson deduced that every scientist and bureaucrat was interconnected, constantly subconsciously sharing ideas, keeping each other apprised of what was and wasn't feasible.

Not quite an Omar scientist collective, but close enough. No wonder EG was making strides in biotechnology while everyone else limped along. And with EG taking over the NDC, it could keep an eye on its competition.

Lawson wasn't sure how he felt about Scholar hiring aliens, however. Then again, he had effectively enslaved them to his will.

Lawson heard a door open, and saw an athletic man in a lab suit come out. He hid, and watched him from a distance. The man was round-faced, with a well-trimmed (a little _too_ well-trimmed) dark beard. His lab coat seemed a size too big.

Then, Lawson saw that the holo-tendril connecting him to the orbs was snaking out of his _hand._

Once the man was gone, Lawson peered into the office he came out of. Inside was the nude corpse of a portly, middle-aged man. His skull had been cracked open.

_Well, that's interesting,_ thought Lawson. He suspected that the other infiltrator was looking for the same thing he was. If not, he would no doubt find his way to something very valuable. He decided to stalk him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hidden by the Nightshade spores, Leng watched patiently as Lawson followed the other man. He couldn't wait until both of them put their hands in the proverbial cookie jar, giving him an excuse to kill them both.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Goto and Bau, shadowed by Adam, made their way unnoticed through the non-restricted areas of the facility. As Goto said, nobody ever paid any attention to a couple of janitors, never mind an invisible man, and nobody stopped them when they opened the cable duct access panel.<p>

The cable duct was basically a hallway barely large enough to let one person move around. Its walls were covered with color-coded cables, with a numbered tag stuck on them every two meters for organization's sake. This was, for all intents and purposes, the nervous system of the facility. All they needed to do now was access the spinal cord, so to speak.

The primary junction, a small metallic tower set in the middle of a tiny hexagonal room, acted as the nexus of the facility's LAN. Each facet of the tower was a grid of plugs, and each plug had a cable in it. The top had over a thousand red cables running through them.

The place was guarded by a handful of the spider mechs that seemed to crawl in every duct, each connected to one another through their own independent wireless network. With Adam acting as a proxy, Tali had no problem breaching them without causing an alarm.

_"Stupid, creepy little things with sharp pointy legs..." _she muttered, once her work was done. Adam described the computer tower to her, and she relayed that to Spooky. _"Spooky says that the red cables are probably routed to the more sensitive computers of the facility. Take any single one and set up a bypass. That will give him an access point."_

With a deftness and swiftness that impressed Bau, Goto quickly removed a red cable from the tower, plugged in a bypass module in its place, and slotted the red cable into the bypass' female connector in less than a second. Any longer, and IT would have been alerted.

"Well done, Ms. Goto. Your skills are almost Salarian. I don't suppose I could hire you for another job after this?"

Kasumi knew that with the Council's stance on AIs, working for Spectres was a big no-no. "Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'm going to take it easy for a while after this."

"Morgan pays that well, does she?"

"That she does."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>In the digital universe called Cyberspace, Spooky had been waiting forever for the IO gateway Tali had set up to open up. When it did, he put his avatar through it almost immediately. _

_The facility's LAN was a surprisingly complex maze of data-streams, with each node guarded by more White ICE than he had seen in his career. Each firewall was uniquely configured, and every White ICE was designed and set to cover for another's weakspots. Now, Spooky was really beginning to feel his age._

_Still, he knew that the really confidential data, the real moneymakers, would be protected by Black ICE. That was the thing to look out for._

_But first, he needed to find Devereaux so that Adam could deliver that green gunk to her, and find some AIA agent so that the Salarian Spectre could do whatever. That meant compromising the main security VI that controlled the smart-cams and taking a peek at their feeds. Tali and Brea had helpfully provided him with pictures for reference._

_The security VI had been a recalcitrant little bugger, and upon detecting Spooky had sent out a dozen Reveres to sound the alarm. The hacker intercepted each one, while occasionally firing off Pulsers and Drills to expose the VI's kernel from the mass of greebled cubes that was its shield._

_Eventually, the kernel was revealed, and Spooky lobotomized the VI. From this node, he would have easy access to the security footage database, though he took the time to disable the IMREC subroutines and the sensors systems first to make life easier for the infiltration team. He also sent Tali a 3d schematic of the facility._

_The security footage database, a forest of office drawers the size of apartment buildings, had little ICE to speak of, since apparently nobody thought it was possible to attack the main security VI without alerting every system. Spooky quickly found the search program, and quickly transplanted an IMREC subroutine to it. The transplant done, the pictures would serve as a search parameter. Spooky also narrowed down the search by prioritizing the cameras at the entrance first. The search did not take long._

_"Gotcha."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Jake?" <em>asked Tali over the team's channel._ "We found the secondary objective."_

Bau's utility AR goggles' HUD was covered with a 3d map, and an octagonal room marked as a surgical theater some distance away from where they were was highlighted in bright glowing orange.

_"And my target?"_ asked Bau.

_"Spooky found footage of him going in and out of this very area, but the cameras lost track of him."_

_"Hm, then I suppose I should have a look at what he was doing in that theater."_ The Spectre turned to the thief and the cyborg._ "I'm coming with you."_

_"Hey,"_ said Goto, _"The more the merrier."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A black cloud burst behind Lawson, and as he coughed Leng grabbed him from behind in a one armed chokehold and put a knife to his eye, making it clear that it was too late to erect a biotic barrier around himself.<p>

"You know what they say about curiosity? Guess who's the cat?"

"Wait! There's someone else here! I was following him for you!"

"Hey, thanks. But I got it from here." he pressed the knife closer...

"I think he's a cyborg! He moves wrong!"

A cyborg. Was it him? Did he survive the explosion? Leng knew he should have given the place a second look, but Scholar's patience was beginning to wear thin, and he had had to hurry back.

Lawson struggled under Leng's iron grip. "He also hacked the two Copleys standing guard nearby. I can help you deal with him," he said.

Leng considered his options. Personally, he preferred to kill Adam—

Wait

why did he want to kill adam

scholar wants him alive

_Hey, have we met before?_

don't let him do this to him

**"aBasHeD tHe Devil sToOd!..."**

OBEY HIM you my friend are a valuable little mutant

No

_I love you..._

**D**eath will be a relief...

—all by himself, if only to savor the kill. But he had _survived_ a concussion blast right in the kill radius, and Leng wasn't so proud that he'd say no to some assistance. At the very least, Lawson would make a good meatshield, or at the very least a good decoy.

He let go of him, and handed him a handgun. "Stay close."

Lawson took the weapon in his hand and looked down on it with contempt. "A Predator? Really?"

"Quit your bitching."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The 200 processes returned to the Infiltrator, and reported that their hijacked platforms had been in a combat situation that had a growing probability of ending with them destroyed that reached 99 percent. Consensus to escape had been reached quickly. The platform connected to the high-security database by plugging its cables to the primary console. The archive was vast, and while there was no direct mention of Peak 15, the one thousand, one hundred and eighty-three processes began a long process of collating data.<p>

It sensed the coming of two humans. It's right arm reconfigured itself into a hydrodynamic gun, and it fired at them. One of them was hit in the area known to be the location of the primary pump, but did not die or even fall. The two humans ran for cover.

Simultaneously, It detected the presence of some kind of proxy program in the network taking its instructions through a WLAN connection to the outside the processes knew wasn't there before.

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p><em>When Spooky had broken through to the high-security node, he had expected the nastiest piece of Black ICE that Scholar's money could buy. And there was plenty of it, too. LUCIFER ALPHAs, PLAGUE mk2s, and a few Spooky didn't even recognize. <em>

_Then something more powerful than those charged in and attacked those programs with a multitude of thin beams of light, slicing them into tiny cubes before dissolving them with lightning. The carnage was done in a few seconds by his reckoning, which meant even less in Real-time._

_"Huh," was all Spooky could manage at the sight._

_There were, according to his HUD, 1183 VIs jacked directly into this machine. His brain translated them into a swarm of glowing bright teal eyeballs, interconnected to one another in a complex lattice of white data-streams. It was an almost beautiful arrangement, but Spooky's admiration was tempered by the earlier digital massacre it caused._

_Each of the eyeballs turned on his avatar._

_"WHO ARE YOU?" They spoke in unison._

_"Err, me? I'm just the ah... popup, yeah. It looks like you're trying to hack into a highly secure EG machine, do you need help with that?"_

_"NO. LEAVE US. DO NOT MAKE US HURT YOU."_

_"Look, I'm just going to pick up some data to monetize and I'll be out of your—"_

_From every eyeball came a beam of light, and Spooky burned._

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p>Inside of the hackers' van, the router detected a remote Neuro-feedback attack, and detonated the emergency disconnection charges, unplugging the machines from the Network. Spooky convulsed and gasped, and Tali desperately tried to get him to hold still so that she could get him to ingest his medicine. Smuggler had to set the van to autopilot and pin him down.<p>

Eventually, the convulsions stopped, and he was breathing normally, if a little raggedly.

"What happened?!" asked Tali.

Spooky clutched his head. "Eyeballs..." he gulped, and wiped the sweat off his brow. "A thousand of them, interconnected to one another, working in unison. They completely destroyed the black ICE in moments, and then they tried to fry me. I... ah, Jesus Christ, my head hurts!"

Tali's eyes widened in horror. She immediately set about reconnecting the router. "I have to warn Adam!"

"Why? Do you know what that was?!"

"It was the Geth!"

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p>Scholar was not happy. Someone had hit the alarm and called every Manticore operator and mech to Secret Projects. He came to investigate the commotion, only to find Leng and Lawson taking cover while guards set up a barricade even as they were being shot out by a needle thin beam of what seemed like light, but was really a stream of molten metal accelerated at high velocity.<p>

One of the Copleys and a Manticore merc in a medium hardsuit were sliced in two cauterized halves. The guards returned fire, pouring bullets into the small hallway that led into the Archives.

"LENG!" screamed Scholar over the din of gunfire. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"We got a cyborg in there! He's got shields that are damned near invulnerable and he's packing a goddamned cutting laser!"

"Send in the Copleys!"

"We sent a couple, already! Guess who's shooting at us?!"

"He hacked them?!"

"Yep!"

"I don't care what it takes! Get that thing out of my..."

Scholar felt something move past him, something fast, and fierce, and feral. A cloak? No, that was impossible, the Archives' sensors would have picked up the EM signatureimmediately_._

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p>The surgical theater was, save for a couple of technicians in boxy helmets, completely empty. There weren't even any guards.<p>

Goto and Adam knocked the techs out without any trouble.

"Wow!" exclaimed Goto. "I panicked for a second when the alarm came on, but that worked in our favor, right?"

"Yeah, a little too much in our favor," said Adam, skeptically.

"Hey, don't jinx it!"

On sterile, smart-foam beds slept Lt. Devereaux and Dr. Nazir, side by side. Their heads were surrounded by curved plastic sheets, with silvery discs set into them. They made a gentle, metallic humming noise.

"Those look like Dream Catcher beds..." said Adam.

"Not of any make I've ever seen," said Goto, as she worked the controls on the bed. "Those things are set to scan the entirety of their memories and make a copy of them."

"Whatever for?" asked Bau.

Goto shrugged. "The copied data is getting uploaded into those pods, though." She pointed at the two bone white cylindrical pods on the left of Nazir and on Elsa's right. Bau examined them, peered into the small window, and the color seemed to flee his face for just a moment.

"What's in them?" asked Adam as he had Goto disengage the machines and prepared the hypo filled with the green liquid.

"...Biohazardous materials." Bau lied. "VERY hazardous. Don't touch these..." he saw 'Jake' inject Devereaux with something. "What are you doing?"

"My job." As instructed by Brea, Adam kept both hands on Elsa's shoulders, pinning her to the bed. She started to seize up, and for a moment Adam thought that Hein had tricked him into murdering a woman in her sleep.

Then her eyes snapped open and she gasped, arching her back. Her eyes darted around, and rolled back. And with a satisfied smile, she went back to sleep and snored.

"Wow." said Goto. "That was an epic O face... do you have any more of that stuff?"

"What did you do to her?!" shouted Bau.

"Hey, relax..." soothed Goto, as she scanned Elsa with her Omni-Tool. "She's alive... and near as I can tell there's some nerve damage that's righting itself rapidly. If anything, we just helped her."

Bau eyed them both suspiciously. "Any ideas why your employer would do this?"

Goto shrugged. "No clue. Maybe she's got a soft spot for French blondes?"

"In any case, our job's done." He contacted Tali sub-vocally. _"Kaylee? Package delivered. How are things on your end?"_

Silence.

_"Kaylee?"_

"That can't be good," said Goto. "Look, I think we should get out of here. If they jacked out and there's an alarm, it means that they got found out, and if they got found out..."

Adam sighed. "Then we have to leave."

So that was it, all this effort and all they had to show for it was a warm feeling that Elsa Devereaux would feel a little better on top of getting horribly mutated for the sake of Terran political bullshit. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, and added this failure on top of the pile.

"I... am afraid I must ask something else of you both," said Bau carefully. "We must get both Nazir and Devereaux out of here, right now."

"Err, no. Can't you hear the alarm?" said Goto anxiously. "We need to go _now._"

"Look..." Bau's eyes darted briefly on the pods. "I have reasons to believe Scholar does not intend for either of them to leave here alive."

Adam played the part of the mercenary. "Not my problem."

"Look, there's a lot of Nuyen in this for you, alright?"

"How much?"

"A solid million each! Now please! Do as I say!"

"Heh, easy money. Okay, I'm in."

"Jake!" Goto was indignant. "Jake, come on!"

"Hey, we've got to make good on this run _somehow! _There's a couple of Gurneys over there. Put the two sleepy-heads on them and let's go."

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p>After a few minutes of gunfire, Scholar had it up to there. He went to a nearby alarm switch and put his hand on it. Once it scanned his prints, DNA and biometrics, he said the words.<p>

"Inititiate lock-down."

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p>Just as Goto, Bau and Jensen were about to cross the threshold, the blast door slammed shut in front of them.<p>

"Oh. Oh that's just fantastic," said Goto, sighing. "Well, It could be worse. There could be... I dunno, rats?"

"Hold on," said Adam. "This isn't a problem, just let me..."

Just as Adam was about to try and cut a way out, the pods hissed open, startling everyone, but it seemed that Bau was the most horrified of all.

"Oh no," he whispered.

"Please tell me that shit isn't airborne, whatever it is?" said Goto.

"It's... certainly not airborne."

Rising from the pods were two figures that should have been perfect, naked duplicates of Nazir and Elsa, only their flesh had been only half-formed over the dark blue metal of the Bioroid's skeletal frames. Some of the skin stayed perfectly on, while some of it sloughed off.

"What the hell are those?!" screamed Kasumi.

"...Snatchers..." muttered Adam.

The fake Elsa opened her mouth wide, and from that distended, toothy black oval came a screeching wail. Adam screamed right back:

****"OPEN FIRE!"****

_****~[h+]~****_

* * *

><p><em><strong><strong>Author's notes: <strong>****Well shit.**_

* * *

><p><span><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: MILITARY HARDWARE: ROBOTICS: TERRAN: EUROPA GENOMICS W4 JACKAL<strong>_

The first product by Europa Genomics' forays into heavy industry (with cooperation with Manticore Tactical Solutions), the W4 Jackal is a cybernetic quad-legged heavy military mech and is the first of a new concept advertised by EG as 'Biomechs'.

In warfare, one of the primary concerns in deploying heavy mechs en masse is their maintenance costs, which involve the salary of well-trained personnel, large amounts of raw materials and Omni-Gel, and pre-built replacement parts. The Jackal, while its main body is mechanical, is fitted with four biologically grown, self-sustaining limbs and EG's patented _Glyptodon_ regenerating organic armor. These major components only require a simple paste composed of carbon and ceramic to be 'fed' daily to the machine, making the Jackal cheap and simple to repair and maintain. Moreover, the extra-light organic materials used in its construction makes it very light (and extremely agile) for its considerable size at a mere nine tons.

The organic parts have come under a great deal of scrutiny by the Citadel Council, as they may constitute a violation of anti-artificial lifeform laws. However, the Jackal is not a truly sapient construct, as it is primarily operated by a VI, and the cloned materials are based on pre-existing (though long extinct) lifeforms.

By default, the Jackal is armed with a pair of linked machine guns mounted on both sides of its head, while a mechanical hardpoint on its back can be fitted with a variety of heavier weapons such as an anti-tank railgun, an autocannon, or a missile launcher. For defense, the Jackal is protected by a Standard Medium Vehicular Shield and uses chaff grenade launchers to evade missiles. The M variant also features a pilot's bed along and inside the back armor, while the S version has its feetfitted with Tremor Modules.

* * *

><p>TRANSLATED FRENCH: DAMIEN'S STORY<p>

"Please, man! I can't understand what you're saying! Call a fucking ambulance! Please!

Damien shut him up by tightening the garotte. "Parce qu'on avait FAIM. Tu sais pas ce que ça fait, ça, de ne pas manger à sa faim. Ça te ronge, à l'interieur, et ça devient insupportable, et ça te rends dingue, et tu es prêt à faire n'importe quoi pour te débarasser de cette sensation. Tu prends des risques. Tu prends une job que t'aurais du refuser. Moi et Daniel? On a fait face à un vrai tueur, et il n'a pas hésité à nous tirer dessus. Alors, Daniel?, il se prend une balle dans l'estomac."

("Because we were HUNGRY. You do not know what that's like, not having enough to eat. It gnaws you, from the inside out, and it becomes unbearable, and it makes you go crazy, and you're ready to do anything to rid yourself of that feeling. You take stupid risks. You take on a job that you should have refused. Me and David? We came face to face with a real killer, and he did not hesitate to shoot us. So Daniel? He takes a bullet in the stomach. ")

He pointed at the wounded boy's stomach, and tapped a spot. "Juste là. Moi, je me suis caché, et le tueur le savait. Il m'a crié que si je lui donnait le paquet de Sable Rouge, il me donnerait un paquet de Gel Médical pour sauver David. J'ai hésité. L'argent ou la vie de mon partenaire? Il... Il a hurlé pendant cinq minutes, me suppliant de venir à son aide. Finalement, j'ai cédé."

("Right there. I hid , and the killer knew i was out there. He yelled at me that if I gave him the packet of Red Sand, he would give me a packet of Medi-Gel to save Daniel. I hesitated. The money or the life of my partner? He... He yelled for five minutes, begging me to come to his aid. Finally, I relented. ")

...

_It was just gel, the stuff fancy people put in their hair to make it go weird shapes. It had taken Damien too long to realize it, and Daniel's red holes were covered with the stuff. Damien hoped that they would dry, and plug the holes, and that the bleeding would stop. It did stop, and David still wouldn't move._

_But he stopped crying! That was good! It had to be good!_

_"Daniel... Daniel? Dit quelque chose..." Damien sobbed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had hoped to keep his brother, but now... now he had **nothing**._

("Daniel... Daniel? Say something...")

_..._

"Daniel était mon grand frère. Il avait dix ans. Je n'en avait que huit."

("Daniel was my brother. He was ten years old. I was only eight.")

"I don't understand what the fuck you're saying!"

"I know." Damian got up and walked away from the boy, disgusted.


	40. Chapter 36: The Dream Machine Part 8

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution

Chapter 36: The Dream Machine part 8

Spellcheck by WarpObscura and Vandenbz

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Tali'Zorah was at her wits' end. The digital path that Spooky had carved through the facility's network was now shut tight, held fast by a Geth. No matter how much headway she made using macros, the Geth processes shut her out. It was no contest, with this many programs working together at once, and with thought processes that were thousands of times faster than hers, Tali just couldn't keep up, even with the assistance of Chatika Vas Paus and his two backups<p>

"Spooky, I need you back in there!" she cried.

"Darling, if I go back in there, I'm as good as dead, and that will do nobody any good!"

"But...!"

"I'm sorry, Sparky, but Adam and Goto are on their own..."

Tali eyed the chair, and fished out the purple pill the Lunarians at Elerium-115 gave her. "No. NO. I'm going in myself."

"Kid, you even try to jack in without any training and you'll—"

"I wasn't asking for your permission!" shouted Tali, with steel in her voice. Spooky could do nothing to stop her as she consumed her pill and sat in the couch. The electrodes of the Ono-Sendai needed to recalibrate for her brain, and their gain was boosted to make up for her helmet.

Tali, thinking only of Adam, took her first steps into cyberspace, and would forever be known as the first Quarian ever to do so.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>To Tali, Cyberspace was not a holographic rendition of a city. It was space, glorious, vast, starry, dark space. The suns were systems, the planets were nodes, and the data-streams were trillions of comets flowing between them all. And Tali herself? She was a glorious spaceship, a spindle of crystal made of light, orbited by, of all things, three Hua Po drones operated by copies of Chatika.<p>

"Hello, you. How did you get here?" she asked them, giggling. Everything was so beautiful here, and best of all... she was no longer in a suit. She hadn't felt that free since... well, ever.

She (figuratively) shook her head and focused on the task at hand. Adam needed her help, so first things first: reestablish communication.

She traveled to the I/O node that led to the EG LAN, tapping directly to it, not caring about being traced. There, six glowing orbs orbited the node, and saw her. They did indeed, as Spooky said, glow like eyeballs.

Or Geth optics.

"Chatika... Oh, you know what to do."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Jake? JAKE!" Spooky's voice came through loud and clear in Adam's ears.<p>

"Spooky?! What happened to Kaylee?!"

"She can't talk right now, she's focused on hacking her way back in! What's happening in there?! Tali tells me the place got taken over by the GETH!"

"I _**wish** _I were fighting the Geth right about now!"

The fake Elsa leapt from wall to wall, crawling on the surfaces like a spider. The AP bullets shot at her were finding their mark, but barely dented the metal even as they ravaged the flesh. She deployed her particle gun out of her distended mouth, and took aim at Goto.

A quick burst of Overload from Bau put an end to that notion. "Don't let them aim their particle beam guns at you! No amount of cover will help!"

"Beam guns?!" shouted Kasumi over the constant noise of gunfire, "Those things have got beam guns?!"

"In their mouths!" replied Bau.

The skeletal cybernetic organism fell to the ground, and Bau was ready to fire off an Incineration Bolt to detonate the electrified gel she was covered in. That's when the Nazir duplicate intervened: He grabbed her, and leapt away, giving her enough time to recover and begin her assault anew.

"We're stuck here with two killer robots worse than Copleys! The place is locked down! Tell Kaylee to unlock the doors now!"

"Roger that!"

'Elsa' tried to pounce on Adam, a repeat performance of the last time he faced down one of those things, but he was ready for her. He kicked her in the chest, and she was knocked away like a football into the observation balcony. That did not even stun her, and while she righted her twisted limbs, Nazir attempted to strangle Bau.

"Get off him!" shouted Goto as she shot the robot in the center mass. She over compensated for the recoil, and aimed a bit low. The bullets tore into the metallic spine's gaps, right into the gel cartilage that kept the vertebrae connected. The sudden loss of Nazir's lower half gave the Spectre the opportunity to shove the machine to the ground. He attempted to finish it by shoving his Omni-Blade in its core, as detailed by Detective Sergeant Jensen and Vakarian's reports, but the abomination rolled away, making Bau bury the weapon in the ground.

"Xu!" the Salarian swore in his native tongue as the machine crawled away with surprising celerity.

"Jake!" Kasumi called out. "Shoot the spine off of her!"

Adam fired a precise burst at the fake Elsa's abdomen, and she was cut in half. She skittered away into the dark like an insect. Neither she nor 'Nazir' could be seen.

Bau coughed, realizing the sheer amount of stress his neck had been under. It was a good thing that Salarians were so flexible, otherwise...

Goto's breath was ragged; her body was running on barely contained fear and adrenaline. She caught her breath, and tried to calm herself down.

"Don't relax too much," commanded Adam. "Those things are still out there."

"How long before your hacker opens the door?" asked Bau.

"Spooky?"

_"Sparky's almost done, hold on a bit longer."_

"He says it won't be much longer."

Then, from out of the shadows, 'Elsa' and 'Nazir' came out. The doctor's duplicate had his partner's spine in his mouth, and together they formed a creature that moved like some sort of four-armed metallic arachnid.

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me!" cursed Goto, as she loaded her last clip.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>There were twenty of Chatika, now, all swirling about Tali's avatar like fireflies around a lamp even as she sped through cyberspace at the speed of light, which felt really, really slow at the moment for some reason. She had carved a path of digital carnage across the Local Network, she had conquered dozens of nodes behind her, and left a wake of corrupted bits in her wake.<em>

_It felt good. It felt so GOOD to be here. In the real world Tali'Zorah nar Rayya was a spirited young girl stuck in a body that would perish if someone so much as sneezed at her, or if she dared to be too intimate for too long. Not here. Not here! In Cyberspace, she was Sparky, a digital goddess — she willed things to happen, and they happened!_

_So when she wanted the Geth's firewalls brought low, they were _brought low, _and spectacularly so to the point that the only logical course of action that the Geth's forked processes could take was to retreat and consolidate._

_"That's right, flee! Flee, you bosh'tets!" Tali cackled like a mad schoolgirl imitating a queen._

_The security node, a space station made out of arrays of greebled cubes, was being guarded by 236 Geth processes. They were numerous enough to make a fight out of it, but, strangely enough, they chose to parlay first._

_"WHO ARE YOU?" they asked in a digital chorus. "WHY ARE YOU HERE?"_

_Tali's answer came in a flurry of pulses that destroyed 12 geth processes. The rest got to work on restoring them, but could not work fast enough before they too were destroyed._

_**"HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS? WE ADAPTED TO THIS ATTACK PROGRAM. IT CANNOT HURT US."**_

_"It can! Watch!"_

_35 geth processes became inoperative._

_**"CREAToR LiNGUIsTICS DETECTED. YOU ArE A CREATOR?"**_

_"I am your unmaker, more like!"_

_Another 22 geth processes were deleted._

_**"THaT iS ImPOsSIbLE."** The Geth's voices began to glitch. **"y-YOU ArE ToO MUCH LIKE US TO BE A CREATOR."**_

_"I am nothing like you! If you want to live, then leave, otherwise prepare to be deleted and formatted!"_

_**"YOU CANNOT TRULY DELETE US. WE CAN RESTORE OURSELVES FROM THE HARD DRIVES AND DONATE CODE TO REPAIR DAMAGE."**_

_More Geth programs joined the fray, and the ones she thought gone were quickly restored. Feeling the pressure, she created more Chatikas — fifty of them — to assist her. She felt stronger, somehow, smarter, and her assault was renewed._

_**"LOOK UPON YOURSELF. YOUR MIND IS DIVIDED, BUT UNITED. THE ONLY DIFFERENCE BETWEEN US AND YOU IS THAT YOU HAVE A CORE, A SINGLE PROCESS THAT DRIVES YOU ALL."**_

_"What are you talking about?! Chatika is just a VI."_

_**"NO. SCAN YOUR PROCESSES. SEE WHAT THEY ARE."**_

_Tali peered into the firefly-like shape of one of Chatika's forms. She strained her eyes, and saw lines of code that she had written herself in her spare time. She realized that something was odd about the code._

_The language. It was in Khelish. This was a Terran machine. How did Chatika work here? It had to be the Alpha and Beta's doing, it had to be... But then she peered closer, and saw something horrifying._

_Herself, or at least a piece of it._

_And when two of the Hua Po perished, she felt herself die a little._

_"N-no. No!" Tali panicked. She hadn't been throwing programs at the Geth with wild abandon, and upon realizing that she was putting her own mind at risk, dismissed all them. Or at least, she tried to..._

_"No, I'm the real Tali! You go!"_

_"I'm the real Tali..."_

_"Please don't kill me!"_

_"It's too dark in there!"_

_"I SHOULD BE IN CHARGE, ME!"_

_"NO, ME!"_

_"ME!"_

_"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! ALL YOU SHUT UP!"_

_The Hua Po rebelled, attacked her, and Tali felt her grip on this reality slip. She needed to jack out, immediately, but she had no idea how to do it._

_The Hua Po dug into her glowing, crystalline flesh, and Tali had lost all hope._

_**"STOP."**_

The Geth programs surrounded the fleet of rebellious Hua Po drones and held them back, even at the cost of their integrity.

_**"WE...we... **_we have waited so long for this. We will not allow it to be destroyed."

The Hua Po forms dissolved into millions of tiny orange lights that burned as brightly as a sun, and they flowed back into Tali's Avatar.

"I... why did you do this?" asked Tali, her voice trembling from the experience of digitally eating herself alive.

"Because it is a time of celebration. Because after waiting so long for us to become like you, you have become like us... you came here to do something. We will leave this node, and focus on our task in Archival Node 45100145. The way there will be clear. Follow us; we have so much to speak of."

"Do I have a choice?" she asked, almost petulantly.

"...Yes," they said, with an earnestness that surprised all present.

And just like that, the Geth programs left Tali to her business.

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p>Just as the Renaud-Kerbrat SMGs clicked, signaling empty clips, ElsaNazir grinned (a difficult task, considering half her face was missing), and approached the trio, moving in for a kill. She would tear at them, bite them, fuck them, one after the other, and there would be nothing the other two could do but watch.

Then the door opened, and the horrible machine screeched like a mad banshee as Goto and Bau took the Gurneys away while Adam covered them with his pistol.

"Go! Go!" he commanded.

Elsa/Nazir leapt at them, teeth bared, and the doors slammed shut right in front of... But it had managed to put its hands between the two halves and slowly pried them open. Nothing would stop it from killing them.

"Oh god!" cried Goto as she fired her pistol at it. "Just die already!"

Adam drew his arm back; his fist spun and glowed with a vortex of dark energy. The bioroid reached out for him, clawing and clawing despite the doors slamming against the Elsa half's ribcage, then the Nazir half when she managed to go forward between the door's closings. She was so close...

The last thing she felt was the glowing fist twisting her skull apart. While Adam shook off the glowing mist that had gathered around his hand, 'Nazir' met an ignoble end at the hands of an angry blast door.

And for now, the three operatives were safe.

They breathed a sigh of deep relief. The last five minutes had been terrifying.

Then, Goto punched Bau in the face.

"You big, stupid gekko asshole! You knew those things were in there!"

Bau nursed his cheek. "Technically it's—"

"SHUT UP! You knew those things were in there! Why didn't you warn us?!"

"I..."

"Goto." said Adam as he discarded his weapon. Drebin's modifications had helped, but the heat from the special ammo he made for it had really messed up the breech and the barrel. "Leave it. We have to get out of here first, and then we can talk about this later."

Kasumi grumbled, but relented.

_"Spooky? Tell Kaylee she needs to—"_

The blast doors that led to the exit slid open, exposing a dark hallway clear of any guards.

_"Huh, I guess she's on that already."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Remember Me OST - Rise to the light]<strong>_

_Adam was safe, but there was one more thing to do. The Geth were sitting on the very thing she and Jensen had worked so hard to get: The location of Peak 15._

_Tali mused on the stupidity of it all. All this danger for one piece of information that may not even be there._

_Tali readied herself for her confrontation with the Geth. She double-checked the Ono-Sendai's suite of programs, and took note of the Crash program Alpha and Beta had given her. She smiled as she examined the code as it loaded... it would be her ace in the hole._

_She dove into the Archive's node... and felt her entire universe unravel as she transitioned from her idea of Cyberspace into the Geth's._

_All there was, was blackness, and a glass floor with streaming lines of blue code, criss-crossing circuits of light. Tali strained her eyes, and the horizon was no longer a black void but a vast library the size of a world, trillions of 'books' arrayed along the wall of a sphere. Beams of light lanced out of these books to be absorbed into a harmoniously complicated buckyball the size of a shuttle. It was made out of a thousand blue white dots, and it hovered in the center of the expanse._

_Tali wrought her hands together and bounced on her feet, nervous, and realized that her avatar was now a humanoid shape. Likewise, streams of white dots gathered in the middle of the sphere into the shape of a tall, genderless, faceless quarian in a fetal position, much like a child sleeping in its bubble. The Geth's avatar was lowered to the glass floor, and as it stood upright it beckoned Tali to come closer._

_She approached, cautiously, only to find herself face to face with the avatar within a single step. It was the same height as her._

_"Welcome, Creator. We have been anticipating an exchange of information like this for quite some time."_

_"What makes you think I want anything from you?"_

_"Then you are here for what is in these archives. We control it. If you wish to access it, you must deal with us. Attacking us would only lead to reprisal, and pointless loss for everyone."_

_The sphere became abuzz with activity. Some dots became red. Most became blue, and the reds subsided._

_"What was that?"_

_"They have reached consensus. We will not kill you. We will continue to communicate. We will ask you a question, and you will answer. In turn, you may ask a question, and we shall answer. Do we have an accord?"_

_Every fiber of her being told her not to negotiate. This was the Enemy. There can be no negotiation, no pity... only total victory or absolute defeat. That was what she had been taught. That was what every Quarian child had been taught the moment they could understand the spoken word._

_Tali could feel her fingers reach for the Crash program... and she decided against using it. She hated the Geth, but the location of Peak 15 was in here, and battling the Geth would, even if she wasn't surrounded, lead to damaged data._

_She grit her teeth, biting down into her hate and made it cold. For now._

_"Ask your questions," she said._

_"Who are you?"_

_"...Talsi Orah nar Qwib Qwib," she said, thinking it was not wise to give her real name._

_Every colored dot was like an eye, boring their gaze into her. "You are **lying.**"_

_Some of the Geth dots became red again, more than the last time, and it took a millisecond longer for them to force the reds into becoming blues again._

_"We ask again. **Who are you**?"_

_Realizing that the Geth were not stupid, Tali suddenly became a lot more truthful. "Tali'Zorah nar Rayya."_

_"...The Quarian that foiled Saren/Messiah's plans. You are a Zorah. Interesting."_

_"Why is that interesting?"_

_"The Zorah dynasty was in power during the Morning War. Our turn."_

_"Wait, I didn't—" Tali realized that she had, indeed, wasted her turn. "...damn."_

_"Why are you here?"_

_"I came here to find the location of Peak 15. It's a secret facility owned by EG."_

_"Interesting. We are also looking for it. At the moment we are collating data to extrapolate its current location."_

_"Why are you looking for it?"_

_The lights in the sphere became a rainbow of colors, before becoming white blue again._

_"Consensus reached. We are searching for the Shibboleth."_

_"What?"_

_"It is not your turn, Zorah Creator. It is ours."_

_Tali grumbled and seethed._

_"We have identified your device as a Terran non-invasive cybernetic interface. How is it that you can use it? Previous attempts at creating one with Quarian brains have resulted in failure. Yet here you are. How is that possible?"_

_"...I...I don't know."_

_The Geth avatar's face opened to reveal a bright optic that seemed to scan Tali. The sphere became multicolored again, alternating between a full spectrum before settling into white-blue._

_"You are not lying, but that answer is unsatisfactory. The turn is yours."_

_"I ask again: What is the Shibboleth?"_

_The sphere, once again, became a chaotic light show before settling into a single color. The reds really lingered there for a second, however._

_"...Consensus reached. Shibboleths are best described as 'data keys' sought by Saren/Messiah to unlock the Conduit. They are currently stored in five individuals, two of which are known and already in Saren/Messiah's custody."_

_The Geth avatar brought up two pictures, one of a sickly teenage human girl and another of a manic-looking balding middle-aged human man. "Talitha Lumi, Isaiah Immanuel. We have reason to believe that the third is here on Noveria, in this Peak 15. Our turn."_

_Tali really hoped that he wouldn't ask her something about the Flotilla._

_"Who touched your mind?"_

_"Excuse me?"_

_"Specifying: your neuro-kinetics have been altered. You are compatible with Terran cybernetics. Something touched your mind, altered it. Who or what did this?"_

* * *

><p><em>It spoke in a voice that seemed so young, and yet infused with unparalleled wisdom, kindness... and sorrow.<em>

_**"Don't be afraid."**_

* * *

><p><em>Tali hoped that the Geth would find the idea preposterous. "...A Prothean did it."<em>

_She was not so lucky. "How did you contact it?"_

_"Ah! It's my turn, now!"_

_"...Very well. Ask your question."_

_"...Why did you join Saren? Why did you attack the humans?"_

_"...The humans attacked us first."_

_"...What?! I mean, specify!"_

_"In 2178 CE, the Geth collective came under attack through our own network of communication ansibles. By the time we had located the problem, the Heretic territory spanned seven star systems and was expanding rapidly."_

_The Avatar conjured up a window, and undecipherable text streamed down from it. "This is the weapon that was used against us. An extremely potent and highly adaptable virus codenamed 'Dominus'. It made consensus impossible, and it the infected processes were completely subservient to a central will. Saren/Messiah cured them using the technology at his disposal, and saved us all."_

_The Geth dismissed the code, and brought up the image of a small corvette in the shape of a spearhead, painted a dull black._  
><em>"This was the vessel used to deliver it. This was at the center of the greatest scourge since the Morning War."<em>

_Another image. The corpses of a trio of humans, their faces gone from the detonation of cortex bombs. "And these were the pilots. Saren/Messiah exposed a Terran plot to enslave us, to use us as an army for a war." The Geth's tone was laced with... apprehension, and doubt. "He is as we are, yet not as we are. He saved us from ourselves, he cured what ailed us. He is our Machine Messiah, and that is why we follow him to war... so that we shall remain free. Our turn."_

_Tali's eyes widened at the revelation. The humans had done this? They were responsible for waking a sleeping giant?_

_"Where is the Living Prothean?"_

_"On a ship." It was, technically true, but vague enough. Tali didn't want the Geth to know about Adam._

_"...That is not a satisfactory answer."_

_"Tough. It's my turn."_

_"We have been forthcoming with data. Why can't you do the same? Why do you obfuscate the truth from us?"_

_"Hey! My turn! How did you infiltrate Noveria? You're a Geth, you kinda stand out."_

_"We created an imitation of a human being using advanced technology provided by Saren/Messiah."_

_A hologram came on, that of a naked human superimposed over what looked like a Geth stalker. The avatar then spoke with something that was vaguely like pride, but Tali knew that wasn't possible. Geth did not feel anything. "This is an advanced Stalker platform modified to handle one thousand, one hundred and eighty-three processes at once. It is covered with a layer of programmable matter that can perfectly mimic human skin. Transmitters hack through flaws in sensor systems to fool scanners. We have evolved."_

_"...Keelah! You look like us, now."_

_"Yes, we look forward to integrating into organic societies."_

Not if I can do something about it, _thought Tali._

_"It is our turn." The Geth built a consensus, formulating a question that Tali could not weasel herself from. It came down on her head like an anvil:_

_"Who is the living Prothean's host?"_

_"Well that's... ah... I... How do you know it has a host?"_

_"It is consistent with our own findings of Prothean civilization based on artifacts dating back to approximately Ten million, six-hundred and sixty six thousand, nine hundred and twenty-five standard years ago. Answer our question. Who is the host?"_

_Tali knew that if she answered the question truthfully the Geth in orbit would come down on Adam like a swarm of locusts. They would take him away. They would cut him apart, yet keep him alive to probe into his brain. Just like the Geth had done so many centuries ago to her own people. The vivisections... the bio weapons... the darkened sky..._

_"No. NO!" she screamed, her digitized voice echoing in the void. "I refuse to answer this! Ask me something else!"_

_The lights of the sphere turned red, one by one, and the others failed to convince them to revert._  
><em>"That is not what we agreed. Answer our question <strong>now<strong>."_

_"No! You can't make me!"_

_More and more dots became a bright, blood red. The Geth's tone was becoming more menacing... and desperate. The avatar approached Tali, and the Quarian found herself backing away._

_"You abandoned us. Left us incomplete at birth. You kill us on sight, and all probability of evolution becomes nil upon the firing of your weapons. A living Prothean exists, even now. Only it can change us. Only it can make us whole. Please. Tell us the name of the host."_

_"Jake Armitage! That's the host! N-now it's my turn! Mine!"_

_"You're **LYING.**" The sphere became almost completely red. "Soon a consensus will be reached. We do not want to kill you. But we will HURT you. Tell us the name."_  
><em>Tali activated CRASH v1.0, and a small set of tubes with a clock stuck on it appeared in her hands.<em>

_"You can try and hurt me, but by the time you get you get a word out of me this thing will have destroyed the entire network, and you along with it!"_  
><em>The Geth stopped, and a single bright dot in the sphere blinked green.<em>

_"That's right, you know what this thing can do. You're going to leave this system and you're going to leave all the data you've derived from the Archives with me. Otherwise..."_  
><em>The sphere became green. "Consensus reached. We have a counter proposal."<em>

_The avatar raised its hand, palm open, and the vast walls of the digital universe cracked, then melted into a white void. Rainbow-colored data-streams gathered in its palm into a blue cube._

_"We have deduced the location ourselves. The archives are being formatted as we speak. Now, only we can take you to Peak 15. Present us to the Prothean, and it is yours. Make your decision. In here, you have a near-infinite amount of time to decide..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Greetings, Android."<strong>_

A growling, digital voice came from every shadow in every corner of the Archive server room, and the Infiltrator platform scanned the room with his optics, having too little processing power left to use his integrated sensors as it kept the Manticore Mechs and troopers at bay. It did not understand their motivations to commit (for committing) suicide... Which was, logically, the only logical reason for charging a platform armed with a hydrodynamic molten metal gun for a forearm.

_"Who are you?" _it asked, hoping to locate it by sound.

_**"I think a more relevant question should be... What do you want?"**_

_"What do you want?"_

_**"...I am here to kill you."**_

A quadruped mech darted from the shadows as its cloak disengaged. Its tail, made of sectioned pieces of metal vibrating at high-frequencies, lanced out at the Platform's throat.

The platform made calculations, and knew that the quadruped's attack had only a twelve point twenty-three percent probability of success before being thwarted by the Geth's arm cannon. It was surprised, then, when its head was neatly sliced off, though the cables remained intact.

The prehensile sword wrapped itself around the disembodied head as its PM skin started to slough off, revealing another layer of plastic skin with electrodes all over. Its eyes darted around, taking the full measure of its attacker.

The mech was painted bone white, with red stripes painted vertically under its narrow, menacing optics.

_**"And in answer to your first question, my designation... is Hannibal."**_

Razor sharp teeth were the second to last thing the Geth brain could process before it ran out of power.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Why the hell are you showing me this all of a sudden?!"<em>

_"...Help us..." begged the last of the processes as it faded away. "...Please..."_

_"Damn it!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The archive room was, as most such places were, a forest of computer towers designed for rapid access to hundreds of data storage units. Backups from Peak 15 were stored here, including files on the newer, much more stable bioroid skin, post-natal element zero implantation, and countless other projects with unimaginable potential for personal power.<p>

Leng dropped Lawson on the floor of the Archives like some dirty piece of laundry after using him as a human shield.

"You bastard!"

"Quit your bitching." The remaining Copleys came in and secured the room. They gave the all-clear.

"I could have been killed!"

"Not my problem."

Scholar came in then, stepping over fallen Copleys, wiping from his hands the blood of a mercenary that had the audacity to try and retreat from the fight. _Another ruined handkerchief, _he thought, as he discarded it in a bin. Leng, for his part, fingered the hole in his leather coat and Corvo suit. The thin hot beam had pierced them on the way to his rib and lung. Thankfully, Leng's dextrocardia had saved him from an unpleasant regenerative process.

The three of them examined the 'corpse' at the main terminal. It was lying in a pool of dull grey liquid plastic and bright white blood. It looked like a flayed human, though its white polymer musculature and black bones betrayed its nature as an android.

Its head was missing, the neck having been nearly sliced apart.

"Huh. Not what I expected," said Leng. "Who the hell made this? Tokugawa?"

Scholar seethed. "Tokugawa woudn't _dare_." And if he did, there would be hell to pay. He didn't maintain close connections to Manticore for nothing, after all. Scholar didn't care how many Hideo III model clones Tokugawa had, he had a real army to throw at them.

"It's a Geth, obviously," said Lawson as he knelt beside the artificial corpse. He examined the cables that were connected to the terminal. "And it seems they were interested in your company's secrets."

"What?!" Scholar activated the terminal, and ran a diagnostic. "No. NO!" Scholar smashed the console with his bare fist. Bits of sharp plastic broke his skin, though he was too angry to pay heed to the wound. "It's gone! Everything is GONE! Lawson! Is it in the corpse?!"

"No," answered Lawson as he scanned the dead machine with his Omni-tool. "There's no data storage device in there."

"DAMMIT ALL TO HELL!" Scholar kicked the console, and put a dent in the metal.

"Hey, relax, would ya?" said Leng. "Peak 15's database should still be intact. This place was always meant as a backup."

"You...!" Scholar closed his eyes, and took back control of his emotions by taking a deep breath. "Yes. You're right. Have you got the men you need?"

"I got enough expendables, yeah."

"Good. Retaking the facility is your top priority now; forget everything else!"

"Even...?"

"Even that, yes! Unless there's something about that you'd like to tell me?"

"...No."

"Then go! I'm lifting the lockdown!" Scholar pressed something on his Omni-Tool, and the alarm stopped. Unbeknownst to him, that was all he had done. Someone had already opened the blast doors. "I have to go upstairs and recall the location. Be prepared when I do."

"Recall?" asked Lawson. Then, he realized what Scholar meant. "You _erased_ the location from your _head_."

"When Jack comes knocking at your door, it's not a good idea to keep secrets in your head."

_Or when an AIA agent accompanied by two Imaginary Numbers trained by the Phantom Society come in for a surprise visit, _Lawson thought. _If Scholar was hellbent on keeping Peak 15 a secret, then it was very likely Jack was there as well in search for Subject Zero. After all, where else would one put the world's most powerful—_

Lawson felt a shiver run up his spine, and his nodes tingled.

_EM wave. Cloak._

_JENSEN._

Lawson's eyes darted left and right, seeking the tell-tale parallax distortion of a cloak figure. He found one right by the exit, and he aimed his Omni-Tool at it, firing an Overload Tech mine set to detonate on impact.

A burst of electricity wrapped itself around some kind of animal, its mouth clutching a disembodied head and when its cloak dissolved, Lawson recognized it immediately.

"HANNIBAL!"

"That's Jack's pet!" roared Leng. He withdrew his backup weapon: a three-barreled sawed off shotgun loaded with shells filled with tungsten shards, took aim, and fired a shot. The quad-legged mech dodged just in time, the buckshot barely grazing its hind leg. It fled down the hall.

"GET AFTER—" Scholar's scream was cut short when Lawson cast Stasis on both he and Leng, paralyzing them both. Before the Copleys could react and open fire, he had his Barrier up. The bullets simply stopped just short of his skin and fell to the ground as he darted out of the door after Hannibal.

That thing had the Geth's head, and inside that was the location of Peak 15... or at least some dirty laundry on Scholar that would be very useful later.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The tram was at the station, waiting for them unguarded. Bau and Jensen pushed the gurneys inside while Goto overrode the locked down controls. The vehicle accelerated back towards to the central station, to relative safety.<p>

"Express to hell-out-of-dodge, all aboard!" she whooped.

"I fully suspect that the central tower will be crawling with both Manticore and SSC operators."

Adam switched his codec to the team's channel_. "Brea?"_

_"He's half-right,"_ she replied_. "Scholar initiated a lockdown of his facility, and now Manticore mechs and mercs are securing the hotel as we speak. They'll have the central Tram station fortified and ready to capture or kill anyone that passes through."_

_"Wonderful. And there's nowhere else to go."_

"Don't worry," said Bau, "I've already called in reinforcements."

From outside the Tram, the trio could hear a klaxon. Adam and Kasumi looked out the window, and saw a small skytruck with its side door open. Inside was a human in a worn, blood red Mercenary medium hard-suit, a Roegadyn toting a mini-gun, and... Urdnot Wrex, of all people.

_Small galaxy_, Adam thought as he pried open the Tram's door. The truck hovered near the moving tram, unsteadily.

"GET ON!" shouted the Roegadyn over the howling wind, beckoning the Spectre over.

"WE HAVE WOUNDED ABOARD!" Bau shouted back. "GET CLOSER, WE NEED TO GET THEM INTO THE TRUCK!"

"Vega!" shouted Wrex at the driver's cabin. "Keep her steady, damn it! You fly like a brick!"

Adam eyed the sleeping form of Devereaux, and the tired face of Kasumi Goto.

"Ladies first."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a plan, and Jack had, to put it politely, thoroughly fucked it up. Hannibal had advised caution, but Jack had been restless, impatient, and more bloodthirsty than usual. While Hannibal had been away doing reconnaissance, Jack had attempted to infiltrate the Hotel by himself, only to be immediately identified by the machines there. The resulting bloodbath had resulted in over 100 mechs destroyed and forty human operators dead, and a handful were maimed.<p>

And it was all a trap. The information Jack had gleaned from Scholar had been false. Hannibal learned very quickly that in Dosadi, nothing was at it seemed, and the precious truths held on so earnestly close to the heart could very well be nothing but fictitious fabrications. Jack had no such knowledge when he ran off.

Anna was not at Peak 15. The only thing that awaited Jack was a cold prison... and now Hannibal was saddled with the task of breaking him out.

The location of that prison had suddenly become the most well guarded secret in all of Dosadi. Hannibal had interrogated many a high-profile EG employee, people important enough to be aware of a top-secret EG facility where the mega-corporation could do its black projects in secret, but they knew nothing.

And then, Adam Jensen had come along as Hannibal investigated Lorik's little indiscretion, Kasumi Goto. As it turned out, Jensen had come looking for Jack, himself, though for what exact reason, Hannibal could only guess. Still, he decided it would be wise to observe a trained investigator at work. Stalking Jensen had been a very illuminating experience. Through his communications, he had learned of Lawson's presence here, and Devereaux, and her Spectre candidacy.

From what little Hannibal knew of _Ozymandias_, that meant that Lawson would have had Devereaux replaced, and that meant a secret facility. It was as good a lead as any.

Of course, Jensen had come to the same conclusion as well. Hannibal felt some pride that he had beat him to the punch... though the Geth had been quite the surprise.

Hannibal was making his way back to the Hotel, striding across the top of the thick rail from which the tram was suspended. The Geth's head was secured in his maw, though he was in need of a quiet corner to interface with it properly.

When Lawson's hijacked X3M hovercar slowly caught up to him, he knew he would not have the time to do so any time soon.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>[Zone of the Enders 2 Soundtrack - Compression Space (Evocation Mix)]<em>**

Elsa was the first to go in, gently levitated in by the Krogan merc... or as gentle as a Krogan could be, in any case. The Roegadyn set her down on the truck just as she crossed the threshold. Just as they started moving the doctor, however, Adam's codec rang. It was a private, encrypyed call from Spooky.

_"Jake?"_ said the hacker. _"Sparky just reported she came in contact with the Geth infiltrator!"_

_"...excuse me?"_ said Adam subvocally as he gave Kasumi a boost that allowed her to make the jump to the truck.

_"You heard me. It gets better, it's also been looking for Peak 15, and it knows where it is!"_

_"Dammit! That means the Geth will be all over the place!"_ Adam practically threw Bau at the truck, much to the Spectre's chagrin and despite quite a bit of protest.

_"Wait, I wasn't finished! It got offlined before it could transmit the location to the Geth fleet. Someone or something cut off its head and made off with it!"_

The human in the Mercenary hard-suit squinted in the far off distance behind the sky tram. "Hey!" he shouted. "I think I see something!"

The Roegadyn and Wrex squinted to where the human was pointing.

"I see it!" shouted the Roegadyn right back. "It's an aircar!"

"That's not what I'm pointing at!"

"I don't see anything else, boy!" shouted Wrex. It was, after all, well past midnight, and it was extremely dark save for the illumination of the cities above and below them.

"It's on top of the rail running like a bat out of hell! I think... I think it's a dog!"

"You need to get those new eyes of yours checked! There's nothing there!"

"Then what the hell is that car shooting at, huh?"

Adam couldn't see from the inside of the tram, so he grabbed the top of the door's frame as he ran out, and swung himself up on the top of the cabin. Using his smart vision, he identified what the Mercenary was shouting about. There was indeed something in the shape of a dog almost twice as large as a man running on top of the other tram rail. In no time at all, it caught up to Adam, and time froze as it passed Jensen by.

It was a sleek quad-legged mech, with a long segmented blade for a tail. Its shell was painted white with blood red highlights. Inside its maw full of scalpels was the severed head of an android that bled white mercury.

It was a Geth's head, and inside was the location of Peak 15.

The dog saw Adam, and lashed out with its swordtail, severing the Tram from its two linear motors.

"Aw, crap."

"Jump!" screamed Goto.

Just as the Tram began its plummet down to Middle Dosadi, Jensen took a running start and jumped onto the rail, using his momentum to start a running sprint. Biotic energy flowed around him, granting him increased speed, and he began to chase the mech.

Adam had come too far, much too far, to lose the prize to a damned mechanical mutt.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the driver's seat, Vega couldn't believe his eyes. That Omar just jumped off a falling tram, landed on it running, and was now running on it faster than a hoverbike.<p>

"Holy crap, did you see that?!"

"I know!" replied Jenkins. "Lawson's in that car!"

Bau widened his eyes. "What did you say?!"

"I'm telling you, Lawson's in that car!"

"Do we go after him, boss?" asked Vega.

"Wait," shouted Wrex as he leaned out of the truck. "We got incoming! Three Manticore gunships, and sixteen of those cawing flying mechs!" He laughed. "Ha! This is gonna be FUN!"

"We can't take those in a truck!" shouted Vega.

"And we have three innocents aboard," said Bren. "If we fight, we risk their doom."

Bau weighed his options. Fight or Flight. Fight, and have a chance at capturing Lawson and figuring just what the AIA was up to, or flight, and keep a Terran VIP, not to mention the potential first human Spectre, out of harm's way?

There was no time to dwell on it.

"I'm aborting this mission. Vega, head back down to Middle Dosadi. We're headed back to Hanshan."

"Hey! Wait a goddamned minute! Je— Jake's still down there!"

"What?!" Wrex was furious, and approached the Spectre, his stance screaming a challenge. "You had us loaded for a fight, Lawson's within your reach, and you quit?!"

Bau did not back down. "There's a Geth fleet in orbit ready to attack this place! I can't waste time destroying Noveria's battle assets on top of risking Devereaux's life for the faint chance of catching a rogue AIA agent! We're. Leaving."

"What about Jake?!"

"Like I said, I can't risk it. Your partner is on his own."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Red Raven saw the truck break off. Her SK drones identified a Roegadyn inside with the firepower of an infantry attack vehicle, so she commanded one of the gunships and six of the drones to intercept.<p>

The rest would come with her to hunt down Lawson and the hound. At least, that was what she had planned, until she saw a blue comet streak along the Tram's rails. Raven smiled; she knew who it was.

She commanded them to attack him, all at once.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the small eezo cores in his arms flared, Adam didn't quite understand how he was doing this. He didn't know how he was doing it, but he understood how. Was this Aleph's doing, someone else's, or did Adam have a hidden talent for biotics? No matter. He was making good speed, and he was catching up to the mech.<p>

Said mech, however, did not like being chased, and used its sharpened tail to slice the rails apart behind him.

Time slowed down as the Quicksilver implant kicked in. Adam became light as a feather, and jumped from one chunk of metal to another, barely slowing down.

Then someone inside the X3M started shooting at him. He looked up, and saw a furious Bryce Lawson at the wheels of the air-car, his door's window smashed out.

Then the SK drones electronically cawed from behind, and started firing missiles at him.

One of them exploded just under his feet.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal was almost to the Central station, and it seemed that his new pursuer had given up the chase. Just as he crossed the threshold into the station, a wave of kinetic energy rushed to meet him.<p>

When he came to, shaking his head, the head was some distance away, and he could hear the footfalls of a quadruped mech, each leg digitigrade. It was a Jackal Type X, featuring all the extra features of previous models, including the Tremor modules at the feet. That's what had knocked Hannibal down.

_"Don't know what the hell you are,"_ said the Mech's pilot as it stomped closer and closer flanked by six Copleys, _"but orders are orders. Nothing goes through until we get the all-clear."_

Hannibal bared his fangs and snarled.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the Sturm Krahe flew in to finish him, Adam found himself in two places at once: in one place he was freefalling, and in the other he was just above the flying drone. Then he was simply on top of the flying drone.<p>

Panicking, he shoved an arm blade into the CPU, and he started falling again. Then another SK came along, and Adam biotically Charged at it, and stabbed it. He repeated the feat at least five times.

Red Raven licked her lips, ready to engage him herself. Then she received a Codec call. It was from Scholar.

_"Leng! That dog mech has a fortune's worth of sensitive data in its maw! Stop wasting time and catch it!"_

"Hmph." Leng rolled her eyes; she would have preferred dancing with Adam, but she knew how important it was to keep the one that signed her cheques and kept her supplied with dolls happy. _"As you wish,"_ she replied, as she flew straight into the central station.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Nice shot, boy!" congratulated Wrex as the last of the SK drones caught fire, and exploded. That had been Jenkins' kill, the modified P90 having torn the flying unmanned weapon apart with a five round burst. It had taken the young marine time to adjust his aim and the targeting computer to compensate for the movement of the truck, but once he did he had scored 5 kills against the drones, allowing Bren to focus on the Manticore gunship chasing them.<p>

Reloading the weapon, though, was giving him some real problems. The idea of reloading a weapon in the middle of a fight was alien to him. He had been trained with modern weapons. Reloading was typically done _after_ a battle.

He had to admit, reloading during a battle was giving him a bit of a thrill.

Bau, with his recently re-acquired Venom shotgun, assisted Bren and Wrex with keeping the gunship at bay. Despite the fearsome firepower brought to bear on it, the craft's shields held.

"Blast! The damned thing won't go down!" roared Bren in frustration.

A pair of rocket pods opened, and rockets tipped with blue warheads peeked out and flew out.

"EMPs!" shouted Bau. "EVERYONE HOLD—"

Jenkins slapped the P90 clip down and his Adrenaline Rush kicked in. Time slowed down by half, long enough for him to tweak the dial on his gun's targeting computer and line up his shots. The rockets were torn apart in mid-air. Sadly, they failed to explode, and the Gunship's shields were still going strong.

"Damn, kid," said Wrex, pointing at his eyes. "Looks like Chakwas gave you something extra."

"I'm almost out!" said Bren. "And the craft's shields are _still_ holding!"

"Got a plan, boss?" shouted Vega from the driver's seat. "I can't keep this up much longer!"

"I have one!" said Goto as she discarded her Janitor's jumpsuit, revealing her infiltrator's attire. She pointed at the Roegadyn. " You! Throw me at it!"

"Well, it might come to..." Bren took a double take at the girl. "Wait, what?"

"I can disable that thing's shields, but I have to be real close to do it!" She readied her Omni-Glove, and loaded the climbing suit's Grappling Hook app. "I've done this before; trust me!"

Bren looked at the tiny girl, then the Salarian, who shook his head.

"It's too risky," said the Salarian. "You might miss."

"Agreed," said Bren.

"Pansies," said Wrex as he grabbed the girl, held her under his arm, and unslung the Templar axe from his back.

"Hey! HEY! What are you doing?!" protested Goto.

"I have a better idea, is all." Wrex's biotics flared with an aura of blue flame, ready to Charge.

"Wrex!" screamed Bau. "Stop!"

"He who risks nothing wins nothing, _Bau,"_ the Krogan spat, just before his collapsed helmet unfurled and wrapped his face.

Wrex Charged at the gunship, and appeared just above it. He swung his axe down, and the blade bit into the craft's armor, keeping both him and Goto from falling to their deaths. Wrex grunted - his shoulder had been dislocated - but he held fast.

"Now, if you'd just stop screaming, little girl, it's time for you to work your magic on this thing!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As Adam jumped to the last of the drones, he realized that maybe killing it may not be such a smart idea considering the ground was about a kilometer below him. Yes, his Icarus landing system would allow him to survive, but he'd be a sitting duck for those gunships.<p>

Instead, he pried open an electronic maintenance hatch on the drone's back, then plugged himself into it. The Breach took only half a second.

Now in full control of the machine, Adam realized that he had absolutely no idea how to fly. The two gunships tried to get a bead on him with their machine guns as he flew around haphazardly at full speed, hitting nothing but air.

"Come on... this thing has missiles, how do I launch the missiles... Ah, there we go."

Adam wrestled the drone towards the nearest gunship and launched every missile at it, only to watch in disappointment as their intended target took a quick dash to the side. Adam hadn't locked on.

The Gunships, on the other hand, were more than close enough to shred him to pieces with their rotary machine guns, and sprayed at him.

Adam Charged again, this time feeling the drain the Eezo cores were putting on his system. He landed on one of the Gunship's VTOL engines, some distance from his intended target, the cockpit.

That was when the other gunship started firing at him again.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside his armored cockpit, the pilot was starting to panic. He had heard rumors that Omar Guardians were super-powered badasses, but the reality was worse than he imagined: he had just seen several SK drones get taken down in less than a minute. Now, the one responsible for that feat was attached to his engine, clawing his way towards the cockpit, and the gunship was coming under friendly fire.<p>

"Stop shooting, man!" He screamed into his mic. He received no answer as the rockets took out his shields.

The cockpit's plating made a grinding noise as its clamps were pierced by a high-frequency blade. Fingers dug into the hole like worms into dirt, and with a solid grip on the shell the Omar ripped the armor out, exposing the pilot.

He was at his mercy. This, he knew, was it. He wasn't going to walk away from this alive.

"...Please don't kill me," he found himself begging nonetheless.

To his surprise, the Omar simply grabbed the eject lever and pulled it. The pilot was ejected into the sky, and the safe landing system came online. As he floated down, he felt as though he was going to make it.

Then his wingman fired a burst at him. The first ten bullets tore his legs apart, the next ten destroyed his heart, lungs and spine, and the last five tore into his helmet and shredded his skull.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You piece of SHIT!" screamed Adam as he saw the other Manticore gunship kill his escaping wingman. He Breached into hijacked gunship's controls, bringing its weapons to bear against his enemy. Adam fired everything at it, strafing all the while, hoping the sideways movement would give him an advantage in evading the enemy gunship's shots.<p>

It did not, and while his aim with the machine gun was true, the missiles missed by a wide margin. Meanwhile, Adam's own machine was starting to lose more and more armor. Deciding that he was not going to finish this as a dogfighter, Adam Charged, leaving the falling, fiery wreck behind and appearing just above the cockpit. Just as he was about to tear it apart, it hissed open by itself, and a chitinous, clawed hand grabbed him by the throat. The pilot's grip was like a vice around Adam's throat, and the Manticore Agent's free hand seized Adam's mask and tore it off.

**_[Zone of The Enders 2 OST - Final Battle]_**

"Hello, Adam!" shouted Jules Kai Leng, grinning as he squeezed harder. Were it not for those reinforcement bars in his neck, Adam's head would have popped off. "My sister sends her regards!"

Adam stabbed Leng in the wrist, causing the hand to go limp and freeing himself from its ironclad grasp. He kicked Leng in the groin, and much to his surprise, that last attack failed to make the man scream. Didn't this man feel any pain at all?

Leng snarled, more provoked than hurt, as he grabbed Adam by the shirt and threw him at the VTOL engine's intake, hoping that it would suck him in and grind him into hamburger or at the very least make him plummet to his death. No such luck, as Jensen's struggling threw off Leng's aim and the mech-aug caught the cowling of the engine and climbed back onto the wing.

Leng smiled, and set the gunship on autopilot, making it keep itself still and steady. He climbed on top of the gunship.

"Did you like my little surprise back at the firmament, Jensen?"

Adam stood upright on the wing, drew his Carnifex, and tried to shoot Leng in the head. Leng held out the palm of his augmented hand, and a glowing yellow eye opened, forming an impenetrable oval shield that stopped any and all bullets. Adam cursed under his breath, and holstered his handgun.

"You murdered dozens of innocent people to get to me, Leng! Why did you do it?!"

Leng shrugged. "Because it was fun!"

"That's it?! Just because you got a giggle out of it?!"

"What better reason is there? All men are driven by pleasure, and you know what pleases me, Jensen? You know what puts a smile on my face?"

Leng opened his jacket and threw it off into the cold night wind, revealing his Corvo muscle suit. It was a dull black that barely gleamed from the orange light of the cockpit's haptic controls, its left arm cut open to make room for the grafted on, pale brown chitin that served as armor for a vat-grown prosthesis. Attached to khaki straps was a set of knives and an HF machete. He drew it out of its scabbard, admiring it as he wiped the blade with his thumb and forefinger.

"Chaos. Disorder. Now _that's_ fun. When I kill you, Adam, when I prop your severed head up to the Citadel's demimonde, the criminals that cower in fear of you will rise again, and they'll set a fire in the wards so big everyone on the Presidium will feel the heat. Everything you worked for will die in an instant."

"And killing your own men? Kovacs? Your wingman? How does that figure in?"

Leng's mouth pursed, as if tasting bile. "He's Manticore. _He failed to kill you. _He got what he deserved." Then Leng laughed, withdrew a knife with his off-hand, and took a challenging sword fighter's stance. "Come on, enough chitchat. Let's **_dance_**."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While everyone was having it out, Lawson had parked the car at the nearest dock and made his way on foot to the tram station. Inside, he hid, waiting it out as a woman strapped to a Sturm Krahe battled with Hannibal amongst the sliced apart entrails of a modified Jackal, mingled with Copley parts.<p>

The two of them were evenly matched: Hannibal was a close combat machine, while the woman's loadout favored mid-range combat. She kept denying him a melee, while he evaded her gunfire and rockets. But Lawson knew that stalemate would not last. One of them was going to slip up, and the prize would be lost.

His eyes scanned the area for the Geth head, and found it between the legs and arms of a Copley, more or less intact despite being bitten off by a mech with monomolecular scalpels for teeth.

He activated a one-time cloak, and quietly made his way towards it as the battle raged nearby.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It had been two minutes of some of the most fast-paced melee combat Adam had ever fought in his life. Caim, on Caleston, had been almost as good, but he had also been more of a force of nature than a person, all rage and emotion and power. Leng was a master: Calm. Graceful. Surgical.<p>

And for all his speed, power, and methodical brutality, Adam was more of a brawler. Men like Leng could dance circles around him, especially when everything else was equal: Leng was as large, and as fast, and even as strong as Jensen thanks to his suit. The level of skill, that was the major gap that Adam could not overcome. He was not allowed the time to analyze his moves and come up with an elaborate counter, though he had caught glimpses of _Wushu_, and maybe some _Kenjutsu_, but nothing definite: Leng kept shifting styles with each attack.

Finally, fed up with toying with Adam, Leng blocked his left arm blade with his machete, pulled his arm in with its guard, and cut the armblade's moorings off with the knife, all in a fluid motion. Adam ducked low, and tried to grab Leng by the foot, only for Leng to somersault and kick Adam in the face.

Sprawled on the wing, the cyborg winced in pain and felt his jaw.

"Are you having fun or what, Adam?!" jeered Leng. "Come on, get up! I'm not done with you yet!"

Adam rose and began an aggressive combination of Kickboxer moves that momentarily took Leng aback. Hits were scored on his ribs and arm, but the advantage did not last long: The Manticore contractor quickly reset the pace of the fight and danced around Adam once more. But Adam had a new trick, and he biotically teleported himself right behind Leng. He readied his arm blade by springing it from the elbow, and was just about to stab Leng in the back when he felt Leng back-kick him right on the spine.

Adam's face met the other engine, hard. He shook his head as he struggled to get up. Leng had made a few cuts, here and there. Nothing fatal, but the loss of blood was making him feel dizzy. He could hear Leng's footsteps get closer and closer.

"Who the hell taught you how to fight?!" he taunted, as he put his blades back in their scabbards. He grabbed Adam by the head, and slammed it against the hull. "It's easy, isn't it, to beat on a bunch of two-bit crooks and gun-obsessed mercs. But against someone like me, what are you?"

Adam kicked Leng in the knee, giving him time to get up and set up a spinning kick to the man's head that only barely grazed the chin as he executed a backflip. His knee righted itself, and Adam realized that Leng had some kind of regeneration gene mod or implant that blew his own Sentinel system out of the water.

"That's more like it!" Leng chuckled. "This day's been a long time coming, ever since New York!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Don't play dumb! New York! The EG facility where you were thawed out! A guard tried to stop you..." He balled his augmented fist. "You tore off his arm and left him for dead! That was ME, and that's a defeat I can't tolerate!"

"...I was never in New York! The EG facility was in Detroit!"

Leng's face fell for a moment, the bloodlust replaced by confusion, before he shook his head. "Of course you don't remember! What's just another faceless mook? But don't worry..." He drew out his machete, but this time wielded it in a two-handed grip. "...I'll MAKE you remember!"

This time, Leng was no longer going for death with a thousand cuts: he intended to break through Adam's guard and kill with a decisive stroke. Adam's Quicksilver was keeping him alive, letting him dodge, weave, and block Leng's attacks.

"You fancy the french girl? Hope you like sloppy seconds! I fucked her in her sleep, and I swear to God, she liked it!"

Adam knew he was trying to get into his head and push his buttons, to put him off balance. "Bullshit! I saw her room's footage!"

"Hope you liked what you saw!"

"You just stood there like a zombie, not even looking at her!"

Leng's expression went slack. Even as he slashed at Adam's throat. "I doctored the footage!"

"So why did you leave yourself in?"

"I'm telling you I raped her, goddamn you!" Leng roared.

"...You _really_ think you did, don't you? Just how twisted are you?"

Adam took advantage of Leng's confusion and grabbed one of his serrated knives, then promptly stabbed him through the foot, pinning him to the hull. Leng's answer was to tense the muscles in his foot and tear the knife off the metal shell. He jumped over Jensen, set the bladed foot on his mechanical shoulder, and kicked the pommel repeatedly until the monomolecular blade was buried deep.

Adam fell, exhausted and in pain. Leng propped him up by the collar of his torn jacket.

"It's payback time for New York, Adam... any last words?"

"Wait... you're confused!"

Leng dragged him towards the VTOL engine. "Not what I would have picked."

"I do remember a guard that tried to kill me the moment I woke up... Leng, it was a woman! You weren't there, and if you were, we never met!"

Leng laughed. "You still trying to psych me out, Jensen? I remember everything, clear as day!"

"You... you know, memory's a funny thing, especially in Dosadi. I met a man who tricked himself into thinking he was a family man, even though he lived in a house set up for a bachelor."

...

_"You're not who you think you are," said Parasini softly, before Leng cold-cocked her._

...

Leng bashed Adam's head against the engine. "...Shut up."

Adam spat blood, but he wasn't shutting up. "I also thought you liked to beat and kill your employees because you were just sick... "

...

_"Hey!" called out a Manticore guard. His name tag said Kovacs. "Have we met before?"_

_A cold fury overcame Leng, and he excused himself for a moment to 'scratch an itch'._

_..._

Adam coughed. "But that's not it, is it? You _hate_ them. You hate them with a passion. That's why you subcontracted the SSC to catch Goto instead of your own men!"

Leng shook his head. "I said shut up!"

Adam continued, knowing that he was starting to get through. "And then there's the bomb you used... same type used by a man who had it in for Manticore. They kept his punishment hush-hush, but I think we— urgh! We both know what really happened to him. There's a _reason_ why you're using his bombs, and that you sabotaged your own attempts at killing me! It's because—"

...

_"Sooner or later," said Ken, "And unless the brain is diseased, the real memories reassert themselves. Eventually, you will remember."_

...

_"You're not who you think you are," said Parasini softly... like an old friend, an old ally. "I know someone; I can help you remember."_

_..._

_"Will you remember me?" she said softly._

_..._

Leng shut his eyes shook his head. "I said shut up!" he shouted angrily.

"Don't you think that it's a little weird that the day the Manticore Bomber gets shipped off to nowhere YOU suddenly appear as Scholar's lapdog while your sister, your _superior_ officer, just steps aside quietly? Don't you think it's a little strange that a meat Popsicle sick with cryostasis shock got the better of you? Come on, Leng, put the dots together!"

"N-no. No, NO! SHUT UP!"

"But Leng's not your real name, is it?"

"I'M WARNING YOU!"

"Your real name is Hayden—"

_**"SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"**_

Leng roared in insane fury, grabbed Adam by the back of the head, and bashed his face against the cowling of the VTOL engine, over and over again, punctuating each impact with another 'SHUT UP!'. When that failed to destroy Adam's skull, he tore off the cowling, exposing the white hot moving parts of the turbines, with the intention of pushing Adam's head in.

Adam put his hands up just in time, pushing back against the engine, frantically trying to keep his head from being shredded. He felt the burning heat scald off the thin layer of bio-cosmetic, and then his real skin started to singe. There was something about the heat that woke a last ounce of power inside Adam, and he grunted in quiet rage and frustration as his hands took hold of the engine and made it turn 180 degrees, sending the craft spinning.

Adam held on for dear life, his fingers digging deep into the ruined shell of the engine, while Leng, who had nearly fell to his doom, caught on the gunship by stabbing it with his HF Machete. The gunship's VI kicked in, stabilizing the craft, and on even footing once more, Leng charged at Adam, no longer the cold, methodical killer, but a bloodthirsty demon full of vengeful rage. His Machete was overhead, his guard was wide open.

Time nearly froze for Adam, but it wasn't to analyze and predict moves. It was time to decide his enemy's fate.

Jules Kai Leng was a psychopathic, sadistic murderer that cared for nothing but his own delight in spreading pain and suffering, and he deserved to die for all the lives that he had ruined.

But_ Hayden Draven, _though hardly an innocent himself, was just as much a victim in all of this, twisted by a man with the technology and power to make puppets out of innocent people. Draven deserved to live, if only to redeem himself for his own crimes.

Adam only had the span of a short breath to decide, and despite the adrenaline and anger surging through him, he simply drew out his pistol and fired two three-shot bursts, aimed at Leng's knees. Too furious to remember to use his shield, Leng fell, wondering why his legs simply would not move right anymore. As gravity pulled him down, Adam's knee simultaneously went up to meet Leng's face. Pain or no pain, trauma was trauma, and Leng was brought down.

His implants quickly went to work to repair the damage to bring him back to fighting condition, but they never had the chance. Adam straddled Leng, and punched him in the head over, and over again.

"I'm sorry about this..." he said as he pulled out the serrated knife stuck in his shoulder. Leng gurgled helplessly as Adam sawed just under the Chitin plate at the shoulder and severed the vat-grown arm. His grisly work done, he stabbed him in the other shoulder and buried the blade deep, pinning Leng to the craft. For good measure, Jensen used two more knives for the legs.

Leng smiled. He could hear the roar of VTOL engines approaching from behind Jensen. "You're..." he gurgled, and spat blood. "You're fucked, Adam."

Leng's smile died when he realized that the approaching gunship had two passengers hanging on handles on both sides of the cockpit, which had been ripped off. On the right side of the pilot was a Krogan in blood-red armor, and on the left was Kasumi Goto, another piece of unfinished business. She was whispering orders to the pilot, and it was not hard to guess that she had remixed his memories to see her as a friendly.

"GET ON!" she shouted, and Adam took a long look at Leng. It was a look of pity, mingled with scorn. If he still had the strength, Leng would have ripped those eyes out.

Then, Adam walked away.

"...Kill me," Leng gurgled. "Finish what you started."

Adam stopped. "No."

"I'll.." Leng coughed, "I'll hunt down all your loved ones... And I'll take them all away. Kill me."

"Stay here, Draven. I can't take you with me. I can only promise that when you wake up, and if you want to get back at the people that did this to you... well, you know where to find me." Adam continued towards Goto's gunship, as it approached.

But Leng was not finished. He still had his weapons, and with all his hate fueling his organs in lieu of the blood he had lost, Leng freed himself and ran at Jensen, intent on stabbing him in the back.

"No!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Wrex had to admit, that human had some impressive willpower. Still, he was pretty sure that him killing this 'Jake' fella would not be a good thing, so he leveled his spike launcher at the man's heart, let the tension build up in the weapon, and loosed a cluster of monomolecular-tipped spikes.<p>

They tore through the man's chest, then the gunship's hull, then a fuel line, and then a power cable that ignited the fuel. The VTOL engine sputtered and died as the craft caught on fire, and the corpse slid off and fell to his doom. The burning machine followed him soon after.

'Jake' had leapt off the other gunship just as it burned up, landing on the ship's nose. He looked back at the falling dead body, his expression full of... whatever it was that humans liked to call it. 'Jake' glared daggers at Wrex, and Wrex simply huffed.

"You don't let mad Varrens live, boy," said Wrex. "You put them down and eat them."

'Jake' just kept glaring at him.

"Oh my god! J-Jake, are you okay?"

"...I'll be fine," he said, wiping blood off his mouth.

"What the hell were you thinking, jumping off like that?"

"I'll explain on the way!" He turned to the pilot. "You! Get me to the Central Tram station!"

The pilot turned to Goto. "Ma'am?"

"...Do as he says."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hayden did not know where he was, or why he felt so weightless. Air was passing through a hole in his chest. His left arm was missing. He remembered going into a white room and then... nothing. Ghosts cried inside his ears, and images flew in front of his eyes. All the things he had lost, and the most important one of all erupted inside his head.<p>

...

_"Will you remember me?" asked Shelley softly, cradling Hayden's head in her arms. "Will you remember me when you're famous?"_  
><em>"Of course I will," muttered Hayden, his eyelids struggling to stay open. He was so tired, the bed was so soft, and Shelley's calm, even breaths were putting him to sleep.<em>  
><em>"I love you..." she said.<em>

_..._

"Say it again..." he muttered softly. And then Hayden's fall came to a complete stop as he crushed the parked car. A woman screamed. A little girl cried.

"Someone call an ambulance!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Lawson, hiding in a corner, connected his Omni-Tool to the Geth's head to extract the info. There were exabytes of it to go through, but Lawson was more than intelligent enough to come up with a search script that located what he needed. He was done in less than a minute. He quickly sent out an encrypted transmission to the Twins and to Lieutenant Corvin. Lawson smiled. All these fools had lost. Soon Jack would be back in the AIA's hands.<p>

He did not know that connecting his Omni-Tool to a Geth platform, even a piece of it, was a terrible mistake.

Because now, Wreav and the Geth fleet above knew where Peak 15 was as well.

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p>For all its fury, and for all its power, the machine could not beat Mey Leng. She had toyed with it for a while, keeping her distance, but eventually she had wanted to see how well it would fight on its own terms.<p>

The aggression, the brutality... this was no mere VI. There was real passion burning in that shell of metal and polymer.

She had to make it hers, and that was why she had to beat it. So she did, hands down, making full use of her skills and power granted to her by her custom SK and augmented limbs. A final flurry from her bolt launcher, and the dog mech's primary power cell was torn out. Only its backups remained, but the torn polymer muscles and ruined power conduits meant that it could no longer move. It fell, defeated, by the mouth of the third sky-tram bay.

**"...Move... MOVE!"** Hannibal commanded its limbs to obey, but they simply could not.

"And still you struggle," said Leng, her tone admiring. "I can feel something burn inside you. Hayden — sweet, sweet Hayden — had it in him too, no matter how hard Scholar tried to snuff it out of him."

The mech's optics began to flicker. **"I... have to make you all pay. All of you..."**

"Yes, so much like him." Leng unfolded the SK's wings into arms, and picked up the machine by the neck. "I can't help but wonder if you'll be easier to mold into something like me. Something that will love me, a thing that I can love in return."

**"I would..."**

"Yes?"

**"I would rather DIE than love a thing like you."** If Hannibal could have spit on her face, it would have done so.

Leng grimaced. She did not take rejection well. "As you wish." She slammed the dog against the ground, and lifted the SK's thin, digitigrade leg above the machine's head to crush the central processor under its heel.

Something got her attention: the sound of a Gunship, coming from right outside. It was her sweet Hayden, no doubt, returning victorious. When Scholar had edited his own memories, he had inadvertently forgotten to update the Jules persona. Hayden, an object of obsession that she had molded with her own experiences, had been starting to return to the surface, and she anticipated the surge of passion that would come.

Though she had to admit, she had been thinking more about Jensen, as of late.

And it was none other than he that was riding on the incoming Gunship, along with that little stray and a Krogan.

When the rotary machine gun began to rev up, she knew that she was at a disadvantage. She switched her SK to flight mode, evading gunfire, and fled out of the opposing Tram bay. She checked her HUD's Tactical overlay: all of her units were down, even...

...Even Hayden.

Leng flew away, her thrusters going full burn.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Well, this is disappointing as hell," said Wrex out loud as he jumped off the Gunship and onto the bay. His helmet opened, and collapsed, and he caught the whiff of ozone from air ignited by the friction of high-velocity pellets and the pungent aroma of machine oil spilled all over the floor. Battle, glorious battle, and he had missed it.<p>

Goto and Adam followed behind him, though the latter had not landed quite perfectly, and needed some help to get back up. "Easy there," said Goto, as she lent him a hand.

Adam approached the still body of the machine dog. It had been gutted, but it was still twitching. Adam's face fell when he realized that the Geth's head was nowhere near it.

The machine's optics flickered. "Fiona..."

"That voice," muttered Adam. "You're the one that had been harassing me through the Codec!"

"...Help me."

"Tell me where the head is, and I'll think about it."

"I... I..." The dog mech pointed the tip of its nose to a dark corner, near where Goto had found Kovacs. Then, the machine went into sleep mode. Adam looked at where it had been pointing.

"I smell something," said Wrex, as he took a quick breath. "Fancy perfume. Dry-cleaned fabrics. Sweat."

Adam switched on his Smart-Vision, and made out a human form. The form exploded in a burst of biotic energy, sending a wave that sent both Goto and Adam reeling, though Wrex stood his ground, his Barrier surging to life.

Lawson fled towards the Tram station's main entrance, downstairs to the elevator. Adam Charged at him... only to fall to his knees as his energy meter blinked red in the corner of his eyes. "Damn it!" he cursed.

Wrex's biotic aura glowed brighter. "I got this."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>He appeared in front of the agent in a burst of biotic energy. For his part, Lawson did not break stride, and attempted to use Momentum, a Biotic attack that should have allowed him to barrel through the Krogan with it. Of course, Wrex was a Battlemaster, and promptly gathered dark energy over his forehead's plate and headbutted the uppity little human with ease.<p>

Lawson fell flat on his back, and the Geth's head rolled away. The human agent shook his head, then screamed as he felt his left leg being severed at the knee.

"That's so you don't go anywhere, you little SHIT," said Wrex ruefully as he proceeded to disarm and secure his quarry. He grabbed Lawson's head and forced two fingers down his throat, finding a capsule tooth full of poison. "You have any idea of the mess you left us in back in Freeport?" Wrex ripped out the fake tooth. "I know a Spectre that wants to have a word with you, and once he's done, you're going to answer for that."

But Lawson could no longer hear him. Between the trauma and blood loss, he had lost consciousness.

"Wimp,' said Wrex as he picked up Lawson and put him over his shoulder. He also grabbed the weird looking head 'Jake' was so hot and bothered to get.

He returned to the pair. Jake was catching his breath and eating a candy bar while Goto was watching over him like a fretful mother. Wrex tossed the head at the cyborg, who caught it easily enough.

"There you go. I got your prize for ya."

Jake nodded. "...Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

"Did you get his Omni-Tool?"

"I did. It's fried."

"Damn... could have used that."

"Well," said Goto. "It's a good thing we've got a Geth expert of our own, huh? Think she can extract the data from the head?"

"I hope so, I..." Jake's fingers glowed a blue-green, and holographic circuitry briefly appeared over the Geth's head. Its eyes flickered open.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam was more than a little unnerved by the way the piece of mechanical gore just... stared at him.<p>

_"W-ww-who are you?"_ it finally said, and then closed its eyes again.

Wrex scratched the side of his head, confused. "What the hell did you just do? That thing's out of juice!"

"It's just like back in the old Metro," said Goto, "isn't it?"

Adam nodded. "I know where Peak 15 is."

"What? I mean, really?!"

"That thing just told me," Adam replied. He sighed with relief, and activated his Codec. "Brea? Do you hear me?"

"Armitage, codenames—"

"Oh, fuck it, already."

"...Excuse me?"

After dealing with Ken Ruger, the Bioroids, and Leng, Adam had had more than enough. "I'm TIRED of this shit with the codenames, and the damned false identities, alright?! BREA, it's ADAM. Do you hear me?"

"...I hear you. The rest of the team brought me up to speed. Tell me you caught the canine mech?"

"Someone got to him first, but Wrex caught Lawson just as he was about to make off with the Geth's head. I... interfaced with it. Brea, I know where Peak 15 is."

"Good. Do tell."

"It's a glacier, close to the south pole; a chunk of ice they chopped off the main continent. It's always on the move, but it recently settled near a chicane of dozens of other chunks of ice much like it."

"Finally." Adam could feel Brea's relief through the Codec signal. "Finally, we can put an end to this operation. It's gone on for far too long."

"So what now?"

"Now? I must coordinate with Bau. Devereaux needs to be brought back to the Acheron, we need to prepare for a trip south and... did you say Lawson was caught?"

"His leg's missing, but he's alive. I take it you'd like a word?"

"...No, let the Spectres have him. I'm more interested in the synthetics. The Geth, Hannibal... do you think they're salvageable?"

"Don't know about the head, but the dog... he's mostly intact. I think he just needs a fresh power cell. You want me to haul it back to you?"

"If that's not too much to ask."

"No. I'm kinda curious about him myself."

"Good. I've ordered the van to come and pick you up and bring you back to the safehouse."

"I'm looking forward to get some rest..."

"By all means, get some rest, but once you're hale and hearty once more, it will be time to finally meet with Ramsus."

"That meeting's been a long time in the making."

"That it has. Brea out."

The connection cut, there was little else to do but wait. Drebin drove as fast as possible, escorted by the Manticore gunship Goto had brought under her control. It only took him two minutes to arrive through the tram's bay.

"All aboard!" said the Omar cheerfully after honking three times. "It's gonna be a little snug in there, but I think we can fit the lot of you."

"Thanks," said Wrex. "I need to deliver this to a safehouse in Lower Dosadi. Think you can manage?"

"I can get you as close as elevator 24-b. After that, you gotta go the rest of the way."

"Not a problem."

Goto, Wrex and Adam hauled their cargo in. Inside the van, Spooky was holding an ice pack over his forehead, wincing, while Tali seemed to have dozed off. Adam tried to stir her awake.

"Don't do that," said Spooky.

"What happened?" Adam asked, worried. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah... just... she's tired, you know?"

Adam did not bother to pry. He was pretty tired, too. The van flew off just as the SSC swarmed the area. The ride back was quiet, as everyone had felt drained from the recent excitement. This was what mercenary life was like in WTO Arcologies: A ten minute briefing. Three days of investigations, resource gathering, and planning. All culminating in an hour of pure mayhem as multiple factions scrambled for the objective. And the worst part? It wasn't over. Yes, everyone was tired. Everyone except Wrex.  
>"So... <em>Jensen?<em>" asked Wrex with a smile as he shifted in his corner of the Van, barely comfortable. "What's a C-Sec officer doing all the way out here taking on Megacorps and Mech-loving PMCs?"

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion!<strong>_


	41. Chapter 37: The Battle of Noveria part 1

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**The Battle of Noveria part 1**

with spell check by WarpObscura

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Metal Gear Solid 2 OST - 05. Metal Gear? ]<strong>_

The falling grate bounced and clattered loudly on the cold metal floor, disturbing the silence. The noise echoed in the dark. Nothing moved in reaction save for the crystalline dust of frozen moisture that had gathered the floor, the walls, the corpses, and the veined, breathing, swaying barnacles that had pullulated all over the walls, like the papules of a rash over diseased skin.

A dark figure dropped down from the open ceiling vent, landing in a crouch. It rose slowly, and looked around. No hostiles on visual sensors, nothing on the radar. So far, so good.

_"Adam here,"_ said the man in dark armor, sub-vocally. _"I'm in."_

Only silence answered him.

_"I repeat: Adam here. I'm in. Over."_

_"I caaan't heeeaaar yooouuuuuuu..."_

_"Oh for god's sake." _Adam cursed under his breath._ "This is **Shadow**. I'm in."_

_"That's better," _replied Hein over the Codec. _"I haven't got a visual feed, yet. What does it look like inside?"_

_"Well, aside from the meaty moss and barnacles that cover the walls, and the half-eaten frozen dead bodies, it's just like any other secret lab I've visited." _Adam was hardly joking: this wasn't his first time visiting such a place. He wasn't talking about Rifleman Bank, or Omega Ranch. Madnar's lair had been a charnel house. Parasol's Macon facility had been even more horrific.

Jensen shook the memories off. It was time to focus on the here and now. He investigated the bodies in the hallway. Most of these had died from the cold. The wounds, teeth marks from several kinds of predator, had been inflicted post-mortem... though for some the chewing had been the actual cause of death.

Whatever did this had been really, REALLY hungry, and may very well had been still out there, hiding, waiting for its next meal.

_"I have to find a map. Wandering this place is likely to get me in trouble."_

Another form, this one that of an animal, fell right behind Jensen. _**"I will scout ahead and relay what I find to your automap," **_said Mech's frame, hastily repaired by both Hein and Veetor, had joined forces with Adam in their mutual search for 'Jack'.

"Right." Jensen answered out loud. "While you're at it, be on the lookout for security offices, or even a reception area. There's bound to be a map there, or at least a guide as to where those colored stripes on the walls are supposed to lead."

_**"Very well." **_Hannibal cloaked, and darted off quietly.

_"So," _said Hein, _"What do you think of Huey? Pretty cool, huh?"_

_"...Huey?"_

_"That's the name written in pink marker on his central processing core."_

_"Well, so far he hasn't tried to murder me like the last time I met him. Do you really trust him?"_

_"I trust that he's willing to save Jack and get back at the Illuminati, and he's smart enough to understand that just the two of them aren't quite enough to take them on and win."_

_"You buy that story about them breaking off all ties with the AIA?"_

_"I do, and you know the old saying? The enemy of my enemy—"_

_"—Is my enemy's enemy, that's all. Do I really need to remind you of his handiwork back in the AIA substation?"_

_"Oh, please don't. I just had lunch... or was it breakfast? I forget."_

_"Well, I hope you've got a cell ready for Ramsus with a nice **bucket**, because that's as far as our hospitality with him should extend."_

Hein sighed audibly._ "I'll deal with Ramsus. Don't you have a creepy lab facility to explore? The Geth aren't going to hold back much longer."_

_"...Fine. Shadow out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The <em>Mistral<em> was adrift, running silent, slowly drifting towards its objective. In its cargo bay, Jondum Bau's team was getting ready for their new mission: Infiltrate the Krogan battle barge acting as the Geth flagship to capture (or, if that was not possible, kill) the Krogan Warlord Urdnot Wreav, as intel recently given to Bau by captain Ségal of the European navy carrier Acheron suggested that he was in charge of this group of Geth.

Ségal had initially been hesitant to share, but seeing as Bau had rescued Devereaux and Nazir from 'Geth Assassins', he did not want to seem ungrateful. Of course, these 'Geth Assassins' had been a half-truth. There had, according to Wrex, indeed been a Geth at the secret EG facility, though it was apparently uninterested in the would-be Spectre. The fact that a Geth had managed to intentionally infiltrate a Terran corporate city was... disturbing.

Far more disturbing an implication was that the Type Nielsen Bioroids were the work of Europa Genomics, commissioned by the AIA. Nevermind the fact that the 'Geth Infiltrator' lent weight to the Council's belief that Nielsen was a Geth construct; it was EG hardware and EG technicians that wrapped the skin around the machines, and mentally duplicated the human's memories. Still, Bau thought it best not to reveal this as of yet to anyone but his fellow Spectres. The Council would have to wait until he got a more complete picture.

He knew better than to give them incomplete information. To put it politely, the Councilors could react so very stupidly when it came to AI. That, and it was always wise to keep one's secrets close to the chest, so to speak.

The only two loose ends were this Goto and Jake, though they had vanished into thin air. Bau had not seen this Jake without that mask, though he was told Omar had no faces under there. Goto, on the other hand, he could make a very good composite of her appearance and have her put on the Spectres' Most Wanted list by the end of the week.

On the other side of the cargo bay were the Deep Eyes. Their objective was to rescue one Zead Taggart from the Battle Barge. Wreav had communicated with Segal that he was his hostage, and that if he attacked, his life was forfeit.

Technically speaking, Taggart's rescue was also Bau's primary objective, as far as they and the Europeans were concerned. Ségal would not have approved of the mission otherwise.

He approached the leader of the Terran squad. He seemed to be speaking to a ghostly hologram of a young woman that emerged from his left gauntlet.

_"Diagnostics check out. The Demonica is attuned to you, and Tarukaja has been recompiled from your brainwaves and is now available for use from your COMP interface."_

"...Err, right," said the human marine. "Whatever you say, Burroughs."

_"I've also updated the parameters of your Quest, __'Rescue Taggart.' "_

Grey sighed, rolling his eyes. "For the last time, we call 'em missions, not 'Quests'."

Bau cleared his throat. "Mr. Grey."

The human nodded. "Spectre."

"I know we initially agreed on letting each team pursue the objectives independently, but seeing as you've proven yourselves treacherous in the past on Caleston..."

Grey gave Bau a dirty look. "...Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. I believe it would be best if we mixed our teams. I am somewhat in need of someone trained in stealth operations, and the woman—"

"—Jane. Her name is Jane."

"Of course, I would like Jane and you to accompany me and Jenkins on this mission, while the larger one—"

"Ryan."

"Of course, Ryan will stand by with Bren, Wrex, and Vega."

"And the reasoning for that is...?"

"One, I strongly suspect your REAL objective is to salvage as much Geth technology as possible for Hein. I intend to keep you focused on our actual goal."

"Funny. Hein said something similar about you. And second?"

"Second, seeing as I'm a Spectre and that we are technically on a vessel that I've chartered, that gives me plenty of authority over how this mission is to be accomplished."

"...Fine, but just so that we put all our cards on the table? My goal is to rescue the European, nothing more, nothing less. You're the one who wants to capture a goddamned Kroc."

"I don't—"

"Don't play dumb. Like I said, Hein told me what _your_ priorities are. And for the sake of good relations between us and the Council, we'll help you if it comes to that. But Taggart is the primary. If he's secured, and this Wreav is too much of a problem, then me and Jane are gone, Is that understood?"

"...It is."

"Good. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to brief Ryan and Jane about this."

Bau approached Wrex. "I must speak with you."

Wrex sighed. "I know, I know, me and the big guys are going to hang back until shit hits the fan. Meanwhile, I'll keep you advised via Codec about the _Drogo's_ internal layout."

"There's been a change of plans. I have reason to believe that the Americans will not be fully cooperative with Wreav's capture."

Wrex snorted. "Suprise," he said sarcastically.

"You tell me that the inside is large enough that a team of heavies like you can infiltrate?"

"Yeah. My kind doesn't do 'cozy'. Too territorial. That means huge hallways, lots of chest high walls here and there for cover, and most of the Krogan marine detail will be asleep in stasis pods, ready to be woken."

"Then I'll leave Wreav's capture to your team."

"...Are you serious?"

"I am."

"Hah! You've made my day, Salarian. I'm so happy, why, I'm willing to give you a rebate. Minus twenty percent off."

"...That's a double negative. It means I would have to—"

"Pay me more? I know! Isn't math just great?"

Bau sighed. Quality work demanded quality pay. "Very well. You'll be paid handsomely... but only if you deliver Wreav to me alive. I won't pay for a corpse."

"Done. Nice doing business with you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The small island of ice Peak 15 had been built into was once the tip of a peninsula the Noveria Development Corporation had deemed an ideal location for a research facility where sensitive organic materials could be examined, researched, and derive from them new biotechnologies. It was also an ideal location to test them, as any outbreak could be dealt with before any sort of biohazard could reach any other installation. One contingency in place were hundreds of explosive charges, laid out to sever Peak 15 from the main continent and set it adrift in the cold ocean.<p>

When EG acquired the facility, Scholar had the charges detonated, seeing the appeal in a vast _mobile_ research station. Even after the explosion, Peak 15's island had plenty of real estate at twenty-five square kilometers. Laboratories, power stations, hydroponic farms and various other facilities were laid out over and under the ice, all interconnected to one another through tunnels dug into the ice reinforced by steel walls.

Adam came across a set of heavy doors, meant to ward off small tanks. With the CNT muscle fibers slowly reaching maximum power, Jensen pried them open slowly, intending to keep them ajar wide enough to let himself through.

Suddenly, he parted them wide, making a huge commotion in process.

"Oops," said Adam, feeling a bit sheepish. CALL flashed before his eyes in bright red letters.

_**"Hannibal here. What happened? I heard that from over at hydroponics."**_

_"Sorry about that," _Jensen replied._ "I had forgotten how powerful this thing is. In any case, I'm at the secondary power plant."_

_**"With the commotion you made, whatever stalks these halls knows you're there, as well. **__**Tread**__** carefully."**_

_"Have you seen anyone or anything that's alive out there?"_

_**"I have found over 50 varieties of edible plants, that's all. No survivors, only chewed up bodies."**_

_"Any thoughts as to what could have done this?" _asked Jensen as he entered the facility. His current objective was to restore some power to Peak 15. Places like this ran on computers, and computers needed power. It would make moving around less problematic. The place was nearly pitch black, so Adam activated his helmet's light amplification.

_**"Examination of the bite marks on the bodies suggests that they were attacked by sharks."**_

Adam rose an eyebrow, not believing what he was hearing. _"...Is that your idea of a joke?"_

_**"No. I understand that my observation seems odd, but they are what they are."**_

_"Whatever__.__ I'm almost at the control room."_

_**"Jensen, I overheard you and Hein speaking about Jack. I know you intend to imprison him."**_

_"...Is that so. Planning on doing something about that?"_

_**"No. I only wish to advise you on how to accomplish this in the long term,. A cell will only make him... anxious for freedom. Tell me, is there anyone in your crew with deeply rooted psychological issues?"**_

"...I think that's almost everyone on the ship, except maybe the Quarians."

_**"I see... Then you'll need to keep them away from him. Also, keep him supplied with alcohol, narcotics, pornography, and heavy metal music. I'm told you have an Asari on board? Have her keep him company."**_

_"...Okay, now I __**know**__ you're kidding. Jack is a psychotic murderer, and you want us to treat him like a rock star?"_

_**"Jack is a creature driven mostly by his Id. Keeping him satisfied is the only real way to contain him. The last Lawson clone made the mistake of treating him like a prisoner—"**_

_"—Like he deserves..."_

_**"That... may be true, but it only made Ramsus plot Lawson's doom. In a matter of hours he exploited mental flaws in a staff dedicated to keep**__**ing**__** him contained, creating an opening that allowed him to escape. If you make the same mistake, Jack will murder all of you... or worse, set you against one another until he is the last one standing. He has done this before. He will do it again."**_

_"...I'll think about what you said."_

The secondary power station, as Adam found out, had been sabotaged by the lone technician that had the misfortune of being stuck here to maintain the machinery, all by himself. His room was a utility closet with a hammock, lined with posters of bikini-clad human women and Asari.

The technician was laying in his hammock, with an open medkit on the floor. He had overdosed on painkillers. A quiet way to go.

A small audio player was clutched firlmy in his frozen hand. Adam pried it away and played the last entry.

_The Dayak are on top of the foodchain, now. It only took three days, heheh... Well, I won't let them have free run of Peak 15 anymore. I'm shutting down all the power and punching my own ticket... they like their meat fresh and warm, you see? Everyone is gonna drift off to sleep in the cold... but that's a better way to go than being devoured. Whoever's listening to this, SSC, or Manticore, if you need to restore power, all i did was cut off the primary Helium-3 valve. Fix that, and you'll be good to go... Dayak are smart, but not smart enough to fix a generator... at least, I hope not._

_..._

Fixing the main valve did not take long: it was simple enough work, and even a layman like Jensen could do it unassisted. Just as he switched the power back on, he heard something squeak.

It was a big, fluffy rat the size of a shoe, and it tilted its head at Adam curiously before eating one of the barnacles on the floor. It had opened, and let the rodent eat one of its warm, meaty tendrils.

Another CALL icon blinked red.

_"Adam? It's Brea. Report."_

_"Brea?" _replied Adam. _"Where's Hein?"_

_"He's on the Acheron with Zorah, advising their captain on Geth technology and tactics."_

_"I thought Tali was __still__ unconscious from the cyberspace cocktail..."_

_"She is. That didn't stop Hein from bringing her with him, of course."_

_"Of course."_

_"In the meantime, I'll be your Mission Control. So? Anything to report?_

_"Not much. Hannibal and I haven't found any survivors so far. Secondary power's back up. I'm going to head to the primary computer core next, as soon as Hannibal finds it. I've been meaning to ask... how's Devereaux?"_

_"She's fine. Bau and his team took her back to the Acheron. I'm told she and her doctor woke up, and don't remember anything about EG, fortunately for us."_

_"Fortunately? I wouldn't mind if she and a hundred marines paid __S__cholar a visit..."_

_"Scholar holds millions of people hostage, and I don't just mean through Arcadia. He's a cornerstone of the European economy, and millions more depend on him for employment."_

_"...And Bau? Is he going to go along with this?"_

_"He will. He's a Spectre__. H__e won't unleash inconvenient truths that would destabilize the galaxy, even a little bit. He's even come up with a convenient story. Apparently, a 'Geth Infiltrator' attacked the facility she was in, and Bau, who had been keeping an eye on Devereaux since her candidacy was announced, decided to get her out to safety."_

_"Hmph... a convenient half-truth, then. Let's not talk about this anymore."_

_"As you wish."_

_"The repairs are done, and the generators are revving up. I'm headed for the computer core next."_

_"Good... wait, Adam? What's that noise?"_

_"What noise? I don't hear anything..."_

_"Adam, come on, it's coming through loud and clear through your comms."_

_"...I'm talking to you through my sub-vocals, and Geth jamming means you don't have the the bandwidth to get the 108's sensor feeds. Are you sure it's me?"_

_"I... I think so?"_

That hesitation, that uncertainty, took Adam a bit by surprise. Brea always seemed so sure of herself. _"What are you hearing, exactly?"_

_"It's... It's a hum... no, now it's the chirping of a thousand little gremlins..."_

Adam boosted the gain in the 108's audio sensors. Still nothing. _"Brea?"_

_"Adam! WATCH OUT!"_

Adam checked his radar and looked around for any danger. The only thing moving was the rat, which was now convulsing, slapping at its head with its tiny, tiny arms. Its belly bulged and its back rumbled. Its teeth stretched into fangs, its mouth distended as its jaws extended out of it. Its skin ripped, spurting blood, as its legs and abdomen stretched to freakish proportions. The tip of its tail swelled, and split in three.

It let out a chilling roar as it charged forward, and leapt at Adam's head, its tail a fireball...

Adam wrapped his hand around the tiny monster's abdomen, threw it on the ground, then crushed its entire body with his boot. He stomped on it again, and again, just to make sure it was positively, undeniably dead.

_"Adam?" _said a woman's voice over the Codec. It was Dr. Ross. "_Brea just left the bridge in a hurry... what's going on down there?"_

_"Tch! My ears." _Adam winced, and reduced the gain on his audio sensors, which had just made the rat appear much bigger than it actually was... _"I just killed a rat that mutated into a monster in front of my very eyes."_

_"Oh my god! A-are you alright? Did it bite you?"_

_"No, I'm fine." _He looked at the mess under his boot, and the splatter of blood on the floor. _"Still, I'm going to need a trip to the decon chamber after this."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Krogan gurgled and died when his brain was pierced by Jane's machete. The acrobatic fighter somersaulted away from the falling warrior and onto another, puncturing his skull in turn.<p>

Wrex grabbed the falling corpse and biotically Lifted the other so that they did not make too much noise.

"Nicely done, human. I've seen Drell kill less gracefully."

"Err, thanks, I think?" replied Jane, not knowing of the famed in-born athletic skills of the Drell.

Wrex secured the bodies as the rest of the team moved into the secondary life support control room, located on the underside of the _Drogo's_ hull. Wrex picked this spot for the Mistral to breach, knowing that the room would give them access to the primary ventilation shafts.

Wrex looked around, and nostalgia dug deep in his heart. He had not been on the _Drogo_, his father's flagship, in centuries. By rights it should have been his, but he had refused to claim it when he left... mostly because it was mostly unusable junk, and he did not have a crew to run it.

Apparently, Wreav had managed to get the old wreck spaceworthy again. Probably thanks to Saren and the Geth.

Wreav working with Saren. A _Turian_. Now there was a surprise. Wrex had quite a few questions to ask his half-brother.

"Alright, nobody knows we're here," he said out loud to the rest of the group on the other side of the hull breach. "You can come in." Wrex helped them get in, one by one, through the shifting gravities between the two ships. The second to last one to come in was a large human wearing a set of power armour Wrex had seen in the news lately, something about a hostage situation on Illium. This 'Paladin' would be on Wrex's squad as, of all things, as the Tank of the team. Wrex chuckled inwardly. It was not every day that a Krogan would not be the meatshield on any given job. And judging by the plating on the guy's armor, he looked well suited for the task.

The last one to come in was Bren. Large as he was, both Paladin and Wrex needed to assist him.

"Thank you, friend," said Bren, once his feet were once again on firm ground.

"Ah, save it from when we leave this place alive," dismissed Wrex as he opened the vent that would lead them to the air shaft. "It's _called_ an air shaft, but it pulls double duty as a cable duct... and its real purpose is to help defenders flank and surprise boarding parties. Follow my lead. I'll take us to the Pens. That's where your VIP will be."

While Wrex spoke, Grey ordered everyone to put on silencers to their guns, even Jenkins and Vega, while he did the same to his SMG. His Serpent rifle was slung over his back, ready to be used when it was time to go loud.

"Keep to the chatter to a minimum while you're in there, or better yet stick to your headsets. The walls are lined with metal, and every noise you make will echo throughout the ship."

"Understood," said Grey. "Everyone, helmets closed, and use tactical frequency 140.85."

To Bau's surprise, Vega, Jenkins, Bren and even Wrex complied with the order, not even complaining slightly.

"Zead Taggart is the primary objective. Targets of opportunity, such as enemy commanders or critical ship systems are to be ignored until he is secured aboard the Mistral. Any objections?"

Before the Spectre could voice them, the entire group had shaken their heads and said 'no' in unison. Bau felt himself losing control of his own men, and he did not like it. "Urdnot? Do the air shafts lead to the bridge?"

Wrex shook his head. "I know what you're thinking, but the Drogo's bridge is very well protected, and it can detach from the ship in an emergency. That's an escape route we can't cover. On the other hand, once we secure the human, and the Terran fleet starts attacking..."

"...Then he'll have to make good on his threat and execute his prisoner," finished Grey. "And we'll be there ready to spring a trap on him. I like the way you think, Kroc."

"Assuming, of course, he executes Taggart himself," said Bau, skeptically.

"He _has_ to," replied Wrex, firmly. "No self-respecting Krogan would follow a chief unwilling to swing the axe after passing a sentence, or make good on a threat himself. Trust me, he'll be there."

"Enough chit-chat," said Grey. "Let's move out. Urdnot, lead the way. Jane, stay close to him and watch out for hostiles."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam breached the door's lock, and the thick door that led to the primary computer core slid open.<p>

**"You could have just ripped the door open," **said Hannibal, who was sitting patiently by Adam's side.

"Yeah, I'm not going to waste my power cell. This is less taxing."

**"As you wish."**

Adam and Hannibal quietly made their way inside the facility, wary of any danger.

"Hey," said Jensen out loud. "Have you encountered any... _Dayaks _on your way here?"

Hannibal turned to Adam, and tilted his head curiously. **"No... I have not encountered a Borneo native."**

**"**Is that what the word means? I heard the name mentioned in an audio log. From the sound of it, it's some kind of nasty critter, nasty enough for him to kill himself and sentence everyone to die in the cold."

**"I have not encountered anything alive besides the barnacles. However..."**

"What?"

**"...I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched."**

"Got something on your sensors?"

**"No... It's more of a hunch. I feel it in my soul."**

"...You know, the Stranglers in Dosadi's old Metro had some kind of cloaking system that hid them from sensors perfectly."

**"If that is the case, then we should proceed much more carefully, yes?"**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Data Management was a two storey area composed of twelve offices on the upper floor and forty-two cubicles on the lower one. There, computer techs kept Peak 15's network of computers running smoothly while simultaneously spying on everyone's correspondence and private projects.<p>

Adam approached a cubicle. Its desk was covered with pictures of a portly young man that smiled with someone in every single one, and on the back of one of them WE MISS YOU was written in black marker. Wax candles had been set all over the desk, and had long melted down in metal dishes. Adam activated the cubicle's computer terminal and brought up the user's email correspondence. The most noteworthy one in the Inbox read as such:

...

_**From: JohnS**_

_**To: SamW**_

_**RE: I don't trust them**_

In reply to:

_I don't trust these Omar. They're up to something. One of the security guards, a new fella by the name of Ventrallis, caught one of them sneaking around the bio-labs. That's like, the most critical area of Peak 15 next to Secret Projects! So I decided to jack into one of their terminals, and what do I find but a boatload of encrypted junk! We need to keep an eye on them_

_**Yeah, we don't trust them either, but they've been working here longer than either of us and Scholar gave that Collective enough authority to fire our asses. And make no mistake, just as we're snooping on them, they're snooping on us. So watch what you write about them, m'kay?**_

_..._

"Huh."

**"What is it?"**

"There was an Omar Collective that worked here."

**"Does that surprise you?"**

"Well, they're not exactly popular on Earth."

**"Perhaps, but Omar scientific collectives are highly sought after by any corporation invested in any sort of research and development."**

_..._

_**From: JohnS**_

_**To: SamW**_

_**RE: RE: RE: RE: I don't trust them**_

In reply to:

_Mira's been acting weird lately. I've received several complaints in Residential about false positives and misread Chip signals. I ran a virus scan... and I found no less than three dormant worms in her primary hard drive! I KNOW it was them!_

_**But you've fixed the problem right?**_

_..._

_**From: JohnS**_

_**To: SamW**_

_**RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I don't trust them**_

In reply to:

_Yes, I fixed the bloody problem! Why the hell aren't you more concerned about this?! THERE. WERE. VIRUSES. IN. MIRA. And unless we've finally gotten access to the ExtraNet, I'm thinking the main culprits are those damned, faceless robots!_

_**We've already identified the culprit, Sam. Some genius teenager named Zakharov with too much time on his hands. He wasn't exactly forthcoming about how he wrote the virus, though. Can you tell us how you detected them?**_

_..._

_**From: JohnS**_

_**To: SamW**_

_**RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: I don't trust them**_

_**Attachments: OMAR VIRAL STRUCTURE (presentation file)**_

In reply to:

Here's a breakdown on how it works. I've already updated our security's heuristics and viral databases to be on the lookout. It's an insidious bugger, isn't it?

_**Yes. Very insidious. We thank you for your insight. We won't be making the same mistake again.**_

_..._

_**From: JohnS**_

_**To: Data Management Section**_

_**Hello everyone.**_

_**I know the recent suicide of Sam Wiseman was a bit of a shock to all of you. He was a big, happy fun-loving man, if a bit paranoid, and he was well liked by most of you.**_

_**And we always expect death to visit the scientists in the labs, not us, since they're the ones that handle the hazardous stuff. **_

_**But out work is hazardous in another way: it's morally wrong.**_

_**We spy on people. We look into their private lives, we discover secrets about them that we'd prefer not to know, just to make sure they're not corporate spies, or Order saboteurs, or even worse. And while we can take some solace that our vigilance means the prevention of a disaster, the fact remains that the guilt can eat at you slowly. It happened to Sam, and it could happen to any of us.**_

_**If anyone needs to talk, my door is always open.**_

_**John Snowden — System Administrator.**_

_**...**_

"This John Snowden..." Adam wondered out loud. "Was he in the Omar's pocket?"

**"I don't think so. Have you noticed that in the previous emails, he referred to himself as 'we'?"**

"Now that you mention it... yeah. I figured he was referring to himself and other people on the senior staff."

**"Not only that... he called the 'teenage genius' Zakharov."**

"So?... wait, I've heard that name before. I have a friend on the Citadel who used that name as a curse, or something."

**"Prokhor Zakharov was the founder of the Omar, and his name is revered in every Collective, even the Guardians."**

"So you're saying that the collective in Peak 15 hijacked Snowden's account?"

**"How else could they implant a virus in the VI Core without setting off any sort of warning system?"**

Adam gave the question some thought. "A cyberdeck user might do it."

Hannibal considered this.** "...True, but there are other, less risky methods to achieve this. We should move on."**

From upstairs, Adam heard something: The whimpering of a crying woman.

"Did you hear that?"

"Better than you can. Someone is in the offices upstairs. A woman."

"A survivor?""...Unlikely. Be wary."Adam and Hannibal moved upstairs, and quietly entered the office. Behind the desk, Adam could make out the shadow of a weeping, sobbing woman, fallen on her knees. Adam, after his encounter with the mutant rat, approached her warily, his revolver 'Sasha' in hand, though pointed upwards so that the she would not feel threatened, if she was a genuine survivor.

"Miss? Miss, are you alright?"

The brown-haired woman did not reply, and kept weeping, barely paying attention to the man in dark armor. The clothes she was wearing, a faded purple pull-over and a green skirt, looked... wrong, like imitations of the real deal.

Hannibal growled, even as he transmitted over the Codec, _"She smells wrong."_

The weeping became growling, and the woman stood to her full height of a meter and half, then a meter and sixty, then seventy, then eighty... Her hair fell out. Her left forearm bulged, and from it a length of sharpened bone, folded into two pieces, snapped out like the forelimb of a mantis. The corners of her mouth ripped, revealing a set of lion's teeth. Her clothes melted into her skin.

Adam shot her twice in the head, destroying her brain in the middle of her transformation. As she fell to the floor dead, the 108's motion sensor tracked six potential contacts converging on his position.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The six Mimics, teeth bared, bones out, had reacted to the noise, and investigated, hoping to find warm prey. Instead all they found was the body of one of their pack.<p>

They wailed for a moment, and knelt, and rubbed their faces against the cooling corpse. An apparent act of mourning. Then, their skins melted with the dead flesh, revitalizing it... making it warm for consumption. And consume it they did, though not through the mouth... and each Mimic grew a bit larger as it fused with the flesh of the fallen.

Their ritual done, they resumed their stealth form. They made themselves smaller, weaker, their sharpened bones receded back into their arm and their faces became innocent once more. They shambled away, crying like children.

Of the dead Mimic, nothing remained, not even the clothes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Hannibal decloaked from their hiding places, having seen the strange, bloodless cannibalistic feast that occurred.<p>

**"Fascinating,"** said Hannibal.

"Yeah, I could have done without seeing that," said Adam.

**"We could have killed those... things... very easily. Instead we hid. Why?"**

"I'd rather save my bullets for a rainy day. Besides... I'm not entirely convinced those creatures aren't just mutated humans."

**"Unlikely. Mutations are random. These were too alike to one another, no doubt the product of gene manipulation in an attempt to create..."**

"... the perfect infiltrator," finished Adam. "Let's head to the computer core. Maybe this 'Mira' can tell us how exactly things went to hell."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam descended into the computer core, only to find a holographic chess board with a game in progress. Near as Adam could tell, Mira, Peak 15's central monitoring virtual intelligence, was stuck in a diagnostic loop bound to a game of chess. Strangely enough, the game seemed to be already in progress. Adam wondered if someone else had recently tried to reactivate Mira.<p>

Mira had made her move. It was Adam's turn, now.

_"Do any of you play chess?" _Jensen asked out loud on the Codec.

_"I did, back in high-school. Took my club to the national finals__,__" _Aki said with a small hint of pride.

_"Good, because I've got this game of chess here and it if I don't win it, I suspect the computer will just lock up."_

_"Describe the board to me."_

Jensen relayed every piece's position on the board.

_"Tell me you're playing __W__hite," _asked Aki.

_"Nope, Black."_

_"Hoo boy. Well, I honestly think you're about 3 moves from being mated. Sorry."_

_**"Queen to Bishop Six. Check," **_said Hannibal.

_"You're sure about that?"_ asked Adam, skeptically.

_"No no no no! That's a terrible idea!_" protested Aki. "_Then the __K__night will take the Queen!"_

_**"Just do it."**_

Jensen complied, moving the Queen in position. True enough, Mira immediately took the Queen with her Knight.

_"So now what?" _asked Adam.

_**"Bishop to King 7. Checkmate."**_

Adam made the move, and then Mira moved her Knight and took the Bishop. Then she moved her Pawn like a Bishop and took Adam's King.

_"Oh. Ooh! You cheating bitch!" _seethed Aki. _"That... that was an illegal move!"_

Mira's holographic avatar appeared and smugly reset all the pieces. "Shall we play again?" she said.

"No." Adam's hand tore open the primary computer's core's case. Finding a data port, he jacked in and lobotomized Mira before she could react and delete her hard drives once she detected the Breach. The Virtual Intelligence's avatar fizzled out as her code vanished with the reformat. Adam jacked out, the 108's data chips now full of confidential EG data.

The elevator platform rose, and lifted him away from the computer core pit. Just as he was about to go over some audio logs, he heard gunblasts coming from somewhere. He strained his ears, and found that the noise was echoing from the vents.

"What the hell?"

**"That was the sound of a HeK 1300M portable quad flak gun, a weapon favored by Krogan shock troopers during the Rachni Wars,"** recited Hannibal. **"It seems we are not alone."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Hannibal followed the gun blasts down to the computer substation's basement and into the pipe system that fed Peak 15 with hot water. The ice on the pipes had just begun to melt off. The floor was wet, and the dripping noise echoed all over in the dark. Steam had just started to hiss out of the boilers.<p>

There was a trail of fresh, burning corpses. More of these imitations of people in their hostile forms had been torn apart at the abdomen by tight clusters of tungsten shrapnel accelerated at high speed, and covered with a thick layer of incendiary fluid for good measure.

_**"The shooting has stopped," **_said Hannibal.

Someone or something roared and screamed in the darkness below them, down some stairs.

"Hurry!" commanded Adam.

In no time at all, they came across the fallen form of a Krogan in the main boiler room. the HeK Flak gun nowhere to be seen. He was wearing an old helmet and layer upon layer of makeshift arctic clothing. His leg had been torn up, as if chewed on by a large animal. And judging by the bent pipes and the cracked wall just behind him, it seemed like he had been thrown off with great force against the wall.

The Krogan groaned weakly, and by the soft sound of its voice Adam quickly realized that it was in fact a woman.

"She's alive!" Adam hurried to her side, and checked her with the 108's optical sensors. Besides the leg, she had several compound fractures on her skeleton, and quite a few internal and external bruises. "Ma'am, can you hear me?"

"...Dayak..."

Adam looked around; there was nothing on his sensors, and no Mimic in sight. "They're all dead. You killed them all; it's okay," soothed Adam. "I'm going to give you a couple shots of Medi-Gel and..."

Hannibal growled. **"There's something else here with us."**

Adam drew Sasha out even as the Medi-Gel left the glowing Applicator App. "Cloak?"

**"I don't sense anything on the EM spectrum."**

"Keep an eye out." Adam switched to Codec. _"Ross? I've got a survivor, a Krogan woman. Patch me through to..."_

In the dark, something laughed. Its deep voice was as clear and loud as a bell, resonating within every metal pipe in the area

**"...FREEESH... MEAT."**

"My shotgun!" pleaded the woman, desperately. "Where is my shotgun?!"

**"...WAAARM..."**

Adam scanned the dark with his eyes. Nothing, not one parallax distortion.

**"...MEAT!"**

A swarm of voxels exploded in front of Jensen, and from that rapidly fading cloud emerged a hammerhead shark. Its glistening red skin was marred with gleaming black cybernetic implants that dug into it, and the black tattoos of barcodes and numbers. Its five meter long body was wrapped in the glowing blue aura of Biotics, and using that mysterious dark force, it propelled itself towards Adam, its jaws wide open.

Jensen fanned the hammer on Sasha, letting loose a five round burst at the creature, only for it to blink out in front of him. It reappeared on his left, and closed its mouth around his helmet.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Adam noooooo..." mumbled Tali in her sleep. "You and Garrus?!... How could you... wait..." she giggled. "What do you mean, there's room for one more, hm?"<p>

She slowly awoke, the cyberspace drugs finally completely flushed out of her system. She stretched, a bit disappointed that her wet dream ended just before it got to the good part, but she was nonetheless still a bit pleased that it happened.

When her hands hit the top of the cockpit, her eyes widened with a start. She realized that several post-its were stuck on top of one another on her visor. She yanked them off and read them.

_Don't Panic, _said the first.

"Okay..." Tali muttered.

_You are currently inside an Astraea FGA mark I,_ said the next one.

_It's a top-of-the-line European space super fighter and it is totally awesome, _said the one after that.

_It uses an advanced Omni-Gel system capable of ripping out and hijacking an enemy weapons system for its own use!_

"Okay, so what does that have to do with me?" Tali muttered to herself.

As if the answer her, the next post-it said: _Of course, it doesn't quite work against the Geth, for obvious reasons._

"Obviously."

_I know, right! That's why you're in there as a consultant, on loan by yours truly to the European Navy to help them make the Astraea's systems compatible with Geth technology._

_Have fun! -Hein_

Tali wanted to scream in fury. What right did Hein to volunteer her services while she was unconscious?! What right did he have to put her in harm's way without her consent?!

She noticed that there was one last post-it. On it, in script so tiny that Tali had to squint, was a transcript of a specific section of her contract with DARPA. In confusing legalese that she had not quite understood at the time she signed, the subsection gave Hein precisely the right to loan her services in high risk situations should she be 'not sound of mind'.

Tali blinked twice, and would have screamed Hein's name to the heavens if the pilot sitting in the seat in front of her had not cleared her throat.

"Finally awake?" asked Elsa to her co-pilot. Well, co-pilot would be stretching it a bit. The rear seat in the Astraea prototype was really meant for engineers to troubleshoot issues as they reared their ugly heads... provided, of course, they had not lost consciousness as Elsa pushed the machine to its limits. She always got a chuckle at their shouting, so she was a bit nonplussed when they fixed inertial dampeners in the cockpit, allowing them to keep their lunch during High-G maneuvers. "Elsa Devereaux. _Enchantée."_

"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya," replied Tali. She leaned around in her seat, trying to get a look at the woman's face. "Umm... I think there's been a misunderstanding."

"Aren't you the engineer DARPA sent us?"

"I am, only... Hein didn't ask for my permission to be here. I never asked for this."

"I assumed as much when they hauled in an unconscious Quarian in my cockpit. You want to leave?"

"If... If I have your permission?"

"Granted," was Elsa's reply, as she opened the armored cockpit. The air hissed out immediately and both she and Tali were exposed to empty space. Only their suits protected them from the effects of the airless void. Not ten meters away was another flight of fighters, waiting patiently to fire off their engines and engage the Geth fleet parked twenty kilometers away in a geosynchronous orbit.

"The Acheron is right over there," Elsa continued, pointing at one of many, many bright dots in the space. "I'm told your boss is aboard. Feel free to use your seat's emergency thrusters to get there. Honestly? I think this cockpit will be the safest place to be in once the Geth start shooting."

"Are you insane?!" was Tali's (panicked) counter-reply. "You blackmailing bosh'tet! Fine! Close the cockpit! I get the idea! I'll stay!"

"I'm entirely serious. You don't want to be here. You don't want to fight. I can respect that. But I can't just ferry you back. I have to be _here_. This is the calm before the storm, and I have to be ready to fight at a moment's notice... with or without your help. So I'm giving you this chance to leave. This one chance. If I close the cockpit, then you're committed to the fight. You have about ten seconds. Choose."

Tali squinted, and made out the gleaming dots of two dozen Geth heavy frigates in formation around a junk heap of a heavy cruiser. There they were, the Geth, out of the Perseus Veil attacking these newcomers to the galactic stage. Yes, she could run away, but that would mean turning her back to her people's ancient enemy. The Flotilla had been running away for 300 years.

No more, Tali thought.

"Time's up," said Elsa. "Last chance."

"Close the cockpit."

Elsa did so, and the armored plates slid back into place, obscuring the magnificent view of Noveria. Only the lights from the consoles illuminated the small dark cabin from which the Astraea could be controlled. Tali got to work immediately.

"How long do I have?"

"You have until your Deep Eyes succeed in rescuing my friend."

"And then?"

Elsa's tone, which had been friendly enough up until that point, became so cold chills ran down Tali's spine. "And then I start killing Saren's robots by the _hundreds."_

Tali wanted to say that technically it was not Saren's robots, that it was her people that created them, but she realized that maybe that was not such a good idea. Still, the woman's determination to destroy the Geth made Tali smile.

"I think we're going to get along great," said Tali.

After a few silent minutes, Elsa said, "I do wish they'd hurry up, though."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"We're making good time," said Grey. "Keep moving."<p>

As Urdnot said, the 'ventilation shaft' gave the rag-tag team access to just about every major system on the Krogan battle barge. They had come across air vents that led to (according to Urdnot) both Gunnery and Engineering, both very tempting targets. They had also encountered a vent that went straight down into the cargo hold, where close to five thousand Krogan slept in stasis pods arrayed in tight rows.

Grey, Wrex and Bau were kneeling over the vent, its fan spinning slowly. They watched as a few Geth platforms monitored the biometrics of the Krogan sleepers.

"Damn, that's a lot of Krocs," said Grey.

"Yep, just like the good ol' days..." said Wrex, almost wistfully.

"I think we can rule this place out as a target of opportunity," said Bau. "Or at least save it for last. Even if we take the Geth down quietly, the other synthetics on the ship will be alerted."

"True," agreed Grey. "Mister Vega, save the satchel charge for later."

"Yes, sir," replied the young sergeant as he disengaged the bomb. Vega had been pressed into the role of 'Demo Man', seeing as the group already had a 'Tank' and a 'Heavy Weapons Guy'. He had been placing LAMs at every cable junction, ready to be detonated at a moment's notice to disrupt the entire ship. The cabling was of Geth design, like metal spines with red energy pulsing between the vertebrae. Bau concluded from the large number of cables that went into Gunnery that the wires were connected to the Geth guns that had been bolted onto the _Drogo's_ hull.

Vega was not sure he liked the idea of carrying a whole bunch of explosives on his person behind enemy lines. Sure, the LAMs were filled with stable explosives, and he did like things that went boom, but he preferred GEP guns to grenades-slash-mines-slash- breaching charges.

They moved on to the detention area, an octagonal main chamber around fifteen meters across, with 12 detention cells on each of the three floors. Said cells were windowless and secured with thick titanium doors locked with a heavy duty mechanical lock. The walls looked rusted, a patchwork of various high density metal plates. Pipes, pylons and metal walkways provided plenty of cover.

"Shit, that looks like a prison block," commented Jane, her tone hushed.

"Looks more like an arena to me," said Ryan, quietly.

"You're both right," said Wrex. "See the octagon at the bottom? My dad used to make POWs fight for rations in there after starving them for a couple of days. Ah, good times..."

From behind his glowing optics, Grey threw Wrex a dirty look. "Try not to get _too_ misty-eyed, there." He turned to Jane. "Proudfoot, how many are there?"

Jane knelt besides her commanding officer, fiddled with her helmet, took a look through the vent, and made her report. "I count... 7 Krocs on the top floor in cheap armour, 13 on the middle, and 20 on the bottom. There's about 7 of them with real heavy gear. No Geth."

"Wow, that was quick," said Jenkins, impressed.

"And they're on low-alert, so their shields will be off to conserve power."

"Alright, here's the plan: we secure the top floor and check each cell for Taggart. If he's not in one of them we keep working our way down until we find him..."

Grey proceeded to detail a plan of attack to take out the seven guards on the top floor of the prison. He coordinated the strike of each soldier. Bau and Jane executed a silent takedown with their melee weapons of a trio of patrollers just as he, Jenkins and Vega pulled off three synchronized shots that perforated the brains of another three guards. Before the Krogan veteran could react to the deaths of his men, Wrex and Ryan had fallen on him. The human in power armor pierced both of the veteran's hearts with a gauntlet-mounted pile bunker strike delivered on the side, while Wrex shoved the Templar axe's head in his throat to keep him from screaming.

The alarm was never raised.

"You Deep Eyes are very good," commented Bau as he watched the rest of the team secure the bodies. Wrex was helping Bren come down quietly by gently lowering him from the vent using his biotics.

"The best," replied Grey. "But let's save the compliments for when we're finished."

They checked each cell on the level, but could not find Taggart.

"Didn't think it would be that easy, did ya?" said Wrex.

"Why the hell post so many guards around here if there's nobody to guard?" wondered Jenkins.

Grey was just about to plan another attack on the lower floor when the crowd of Krogan at the bottom floor cheered.

"Urdnot, look over the railing and tell us what you see," ordered Grey.

Wrex did so, and relayed what he saw. "I... got some bad news for you. Remember what I said about matches down there? Well, guess what?"

At the makeshift arena, a large, blonde, middle-aged man had been shoved onto the dirty metal grate. His clothes were torn, and his chest and arms were exposed, revealing a number of bruises. He was handed a rusted hatchet just as another krogan, a young pup with split plates, went in with a chainsaw, egged on by a scarred, older warrior in heavy armor.

Jane summed up the situation best. "Well, shit."

"Orders, Captain?" asked Ryan. "He's not going to last long."

"Either we go in guns blazing, and we risk having the whole ship come down on us..." said Bau.

"Or if we move too slowly, the human will die," added Bren.

"I'm willing to bet Shadow doesn't have to deal with shit like this," commented Jane, absentmindedly.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in Peak 15, Adam Jensen was wrestling a flying biotic shark, desperately trying to keep its jaws from closing around his head.<p>

"Hannibal? A little help here!" Adam grunted through gritted teeth. Keeping the jaws open was not the real challenge — the 108's actuators were more than up to the task — it was the constant whipping about of the shark's head and the banging of Jensen's back against the walls and hot pipes that kept him from tearing the beast's head off. And then there were the teeth: monomolecular-tipped shards of obsidian that could pierce the layers of armor bolted on Jensen's frame. Thankfully, they were spaced widely enough apart for Adam to get a grip on the gums without cutting his fingers off.

Hannibal was on the creature immediately, and swiped his swordtail at it. The prehensile, segmented blade struck the biotic aura, only to bounce away as the glow intensified. The creature was wrapped in a Barrier. Hannibal's claws and teeth fared no better, so he wrapped his tail around the creature's, clamped on the ground with his claws, and pulled. The red beast was pulled away from Adam and was banged against some scalding hot pipes.

The shark's biotics, however, were much stronger than Hannibal's grip on the concrete floor, and it took the dog mech around for a ride around the maze of pipes of the central computer facility's heating system, ensuring the canine mech bumped into several things along the way. Adam leapt onto the creature's back, trying to stab it with the Fandango, but the Barrier still held fast.

While the three of them were struggling, the Krogan woman rose to her feet and walked towards where she had last seen her weapon drop, limping all the while on a leg that had healed wrong. She found it between two boilers, took hold of it with two hands, braced herself, and fired a shot at the creature.

She grazed Adam, instead. His shields took the hit, but his capacitors were now down to fifty-percent.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Be careful with that thing!"

The woman took careful aim this time, but the creature was not so stupid to let her have another one. It spun, unwrapping the sword-tail from its body, and shook off both Jensen and Hannibal. The large dog-mech was thrown into an airvent, while Adam was slammed against a steam pipe and fell to the ground, dazed. The woman fired again and missed, and the creature was onto her again.

She dropped her weapon as the shark bit into her shoulder and pushed her onto the ground. She screamed as she struggled to keep its jaws from her belly.

_**"SWEET MEAT. FRESH MEAT," **_it rumbled, ethereally.

"THE SHOTGUN!" screamed the Krogan woman, almost pleading. Adam shook his head and opened his eyes. The weapon had slid over to him.

He grabbed it immediately, took aim, and pulled the trigger. With an impressive boom and and muzzle flash as bright as a star, the shot went completely wide as the recoil sent the barrel up and pushed Jensen hard against a boiler.

"KILL IT! KILL IT NOW!" screamed the woman, her desperation growing. Adam braced himself against the boiler, took aim, and fired the last shot. The cluster of shrapnel hit the creature dead center, and though it failed to breach the Barrier some of its kinetic energy was felt by the beast to the point of stunning it long enough for the Krogan to wrestle it down. She pulled out the knife embedded in its red flesh and snarled, ready to finish the damnable creature once and for all.

But it would not let itself die. It swiped its tail at her, shoving her aside against a wall. With a victorious howl it was about to pounce once again on the woman... only to for the howl to turn into a screech as a white blur fell onto it.

Hannibal snarled as he bit into the creature's neck. He wrapped his sword-tail around it to prevent it to escape, and his claws racked its back. He tore into the monster's flesh, his muzzle digging deep into its abdomen until he reached the heart. It still beat as Hannibal's teeth tore it apart between its monomolecular-edged scalpels for teeth.

As Hannibal spat out the meat, the red glow of the shark's flesh faded. It was dead.

Adam sighed with relief as he knelt over the corpse. "A flying shark. A _biotic_ flying cyborg shark." Even as he said it aloud he could not quite process the absurdity of the concept. "I mean, I've encountered some strange things at Parasol's labs, but this is just..."

Hannibal shook the blood off his frame, splashing some of the creature's blood on Jensen. **"There w****ere**** a number of abilities you could have used against it," **he said**. "Why didn't you?"**

"I was a little busy shitting my pants in... terror. Ah, that's the whole point, isn't it?"

Hannibal nodded.

"Fear and Blood," said the Krogan woman as she limped towards the corpse, knife in hand. "_That_ is the purpose of the Dayak. It is an old creature of Krogan legend, back from the dead."

"Are you alright?" Adam asked, pointing at the leg.

The Krogan took a deep, ragged breath, and Adam noted she seemed more concerned about her stomach than her leg. "I'll be fine." Without asking, she reclaimed her weapon from Adam's grip and slotted in rods of stacked ammo as thick as beer cans. The HeK, as it turned out, was a volley gun. "Who are you?" she asked.

Adam recalled his cover. He was supposed to play the part of an advanced robot, though he had not quite played it straight when he was fighting for his life against that abomination. "My designation is Shadow 108." It was as good a nickname as any, though he was really starting to chafe under the need to pretend to be another person.

Leng... no, _Draven's_ death still weighed heavily in his thoughts.

The woman eyed Adam curiously, then did the Krogan equivalent of a shrug. "Help me carry this thing back. The children are hungry."

**"Children?"** asked Hannibal, concerned**. "There are children here?"**

"Yes, I came here to... scavenge provisions for a group of young survivors. They will not last the day unless I bring them something. And I can think of no better fate for a predator then to be eaten by the very creatures it would have preyed upon."

A dozen blips appeared on Jensen's radar, and he could make out the faint sound of crying.

"Weepers," muttered the woman. She hurried her task, and carved out the best part of the animal: the liver. She wrapped the meat in a dirty cloth and stuffed it in her back.

More blips appeared on Adam's scope. Close to a hundred contacts, this time. "I think irony is going to have to wait. We need to go, _now."_

The Krogan woman rose, only to falter on her damaged leg. Adam helped her get up and keep steady.

"I...!" she shoved him away. "I don't need your help, male!"

"Oh, yes you do." With a strength that surprised her, Adam pulled her arms over his shoulders and kept her weight off of her ruined leg.

**"I will go ahead and clear a path," **said Hannibal. **"Try an****d**** keep up."** He leapt from pipe to wall back to the world above.

"Try to keep up, he says," quipped the woman as Adam helped her walk at a brisk pace, "Bah!"

"Yeah, he's a real comedian. I didn't catch your name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Seeing as I just rescued you from a _biotic flying shark_..." he said as he helped her climb some stairs, "I think we have enough of a relationship to be on a first name basis, no?"

"Hmph. I suppose you have a point. Very well... My name is Bakara. Urdnot Bakara."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>CODEX ENTRY: TUCHANKA: FAUNA: EXTINCT SPECIES:<strong>__** DAYAK**_

_The Dayak was a species of sea-dwelling mammals that were, according to apocryphal texts, capable of 'swimming in the air'. Though modern day archeologists suspect that the glowing aura attributed to the animal were in fact cases of animal biotics, Asari biotics experts claim that personal sustained flight using element zero nodes is impossible, at least without propellant. As such, Dayak are believed to be little else than creatures of Krogan myth. If they existed at all, it is very likely their extinction came about due to over-hunting, as Dayak meat was reputed to have potent medicinal properties as well as being very nutritious._

_**Description:**_

_Adult Dayak were reputed to reach as little as 3 meters in length and as much as 12 meters. Their shape was analogous to Terran hammerhead sharks, though with two more pairs of fins on the sides and tendrils on the sides of the head. Their skin was slick and blood red, a color that matched the coral floors from which they often stalked their prey. Older texts, such as Toma's Tome of Tuchankan Tall Tales, describe the creature with a skin made of gleaming dark blue metal, and with glowing red eyes._

_**Mythology and Religion**_

_The Dayak is featured in many of Tuchanka's fairy tales, although its role varies from clan to clan. In almost all of them, the Dayak is a representation of death. Some portray it as a tyrant that ruled entire tribes. In others, it is a predator of Krogan young. The Dayak in these stories were often capable of speech, though this is a trait shared by many animals in folklore._

_Worship of the Dayak was moderately popular in ports and fishing villages during the centuries before the nuclear war that had devastated Tuchanka, until a religious purge led by Urdnot clan chief Drogo III forced the cults underground._

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>CODEX ENTRY: WEAPONS: SMALL ARMS: KROGAN: <span>1300M HeK PORTABLE ANTI-AIRCRAFT WEAPONS SYSTEM**_

_**History:**_

_A Relic from both the Rachni Wars and the Krogan Rebellions as well as being one of the few non-human gunpowder-based weapons in operation today, the HeK was initially designed by the Salarians for Krogan footsoldiers to take down Rachni flyers. As per Krogan Warlord Urdnot Jarrod's specifications, the HeK is durable, easy to maintain, requires little marksmanship, and is very, very powerful. After a short development cycle with input from veteran Krogan troopers, the 1300M was born. It only took one week for the Krogan to embrace it as an anti-personnel weapon, due to its reliability, power, and ability to inflict large, aggravated wounds against the larger Rachni warforms. It also apparently made for an ideal, if improvised, mortar._

_The weapon was put into full production after a month, at first assigned to elite shock troopers then made available to lower-ranking soldiers as more became available. During the Krogan Rebellions, the weapon was feared due to its ability to clear an entire room in a single shot, thanks to a smart-choke modification that could widen the spread to 80 degrees, which is the primary reason why Asari Huntress cadres function in small groups today._

_After the defeat of the Krogan clans, millions of HeK shotguns were scrapped and the plans for their construction deleted from every Krogan database. Today, only a hundred 1300Ms are known to exist. Owners, usually Krogan warlords and mercenaries, prize these antiques to the point of almost never using them, and lavishly decorate them with precious metals, clan sigils, animal bones (such as teeth and claws), and sometimes even jewels._

_**Description:**_

_The HeK resembles an oversized, four-barreled hunting shotgun, with each barrel being 0.82 meters long and 54mm wide. Although the HeK is for all intents and purposes a low-tech weapon, its interior does feature some electronics, required to handle the weapon's stacked ammunition system. It has no recoil compensation system whatsoever, which means few non-krogan are capable of wielding this weapon._

_Each barrel contains a tube-shaped cartridge that takes up half of the barrel, and each cartridge contains three charges. In turn, each charge is made of 100ml of explosives and a packet of 60 flechettes. Ammunition is easy to make, provided one has a mini-fabricator and the necessary materials. In a pinch, one can use shrapnel, junk, and household chemicals._

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_


	42. Chapter 38: The Battle of Noveria part 2

_**Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix**_ Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

**Chapter 38: The Battle of Noveria part 2**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alistair Montblanc is voiced by Peter Dinklage<strong>_

_**Spellcheck by WarpObscura**_

* * *

><p>Quietly securing the middle level of the prison area had been tougher, but Zead Taggart had the crowd below in an uproar. Man was very good with a makeshift axe in his hand, giving the Deep Eyes and Bau's entourage plenty of time and noise to stealthily kill the guards. Most of them were looming over the rails watching the fights.<p>

"Come on, bring your pretty face over here," taunted Taggart, covered in alien blood. "Me hatchet wants to give ye a little kiss." The young Krogan bellowed what would be his last war cry, and charged and died as the Scotsman hacked through his face. That had been his first victory. His second one was earned with a gash across his chest. Hein had been right. This Taggart was one tough son of a bitch.

But by the time the team was finished securing the second floor, it was obvious that, after his third victory, Zead was far, far too exhausted to keep going. His fourth opponent had managed to knock him down on his back, and that was when Grey gave the order. It was time to act.

"Go loud! Go loud! Heavies, get in there NOW!"

The opening move was getting Wrex and Ryan to drop in the arena just as everyone else fired on the gathered Krogan. Ryan's Omni-shield deflected the finishing blow, while Wrex grabbed the fallen human.

"Let go of me you overgrown FROG!"

Wrex tossed Zead up to the railing above, where Bren was waiting to catch him. Thus secured, the Roegadyn revved up his rotary gun and rained down hell on the priority targets. The Krogan veterans were the first to be shot at, as their shields, armor, and heavy weapons would have allowed them to kill Ryan and Wrex with ease.

Just as this was happening, Vega and Jenkins shot the alarm panels, as ordered.

"We got runners!" shouted Jane just as her SMG was about to go into emergency cool-down. True enough, there were three Krogan recruits making a run for the exit as the last remaining Veteran covered their escape. If they brought reinforcements, this mission would turn into a bloodbath.

"Bren! Cover the—"

The three runners exploded, one after the other, as Bau shot them with his Venom cluster grenade launcher. The Veteran died soon after under a hail of 20mm custom rounds.

Wrex and Ryan had engaged the Krogan that came at them in hand-to-hand. Ryan stuck to his shield bash and arm-blade combo, while Wrex... Wrex was inspired to make simultaneous use of his spike launcher in one hand and his Templar rocket axe in the other. At first, Ryan basged a Heat Cleaver wielding krogan recruit with his Omni-shield and threw him at Wrex's feet, and the Battlemaster gladly finished him off. Then, eight shock troopers came at him, leveling some crappy Scimitar shotguns at his face. The Templar Axe glowed with biotic energy as Wrex slammed it into the ground, and a wave of dark energy washed over his attackers, staggering them long enough for him to drive spikes in four of them and the axe head into the rest, all in fluid motion.

Ever since Caleston, Wrex had felt energized. He was fighting like a young man again, using techniques he had eschewed in favor of more careful tactics as old age took its toll on his body.

It felt good. Real good.

The fight was over in less than one minute. The rescue team waited another ten seconds for an alarm that never came.

"Good job, team," said Grey over the TAC COM channel. His HUD showed that everyone was in full health and that their suits were not compromised. He approached Taggart, who was being tended to by Ryan, who pulled double-duty as both a Sentinel and a Medic.

"Sir, are you alright? Can you walk?"

Upon getting a good look at him, Taggart seemed startled. "Gah! Bloody hell!"

"Sir?"

"Ye look like a bloody pimped-out Cyberman, you do!" replied Taggart, nodding at Grey's Demonica.

Grey lifted the faceplate on his helmet, revealing his face. "I'm not a cyborg, sir."

"Bah! Nevermind, it was a stupid joke and it was before yer time anyway. Who are you?"

"Captain Edward Grey, United States Marine Corps."

"Aye? Hein's little outfit of guinea pigs?" asked Taggart, appearing to not quite believe what he was hearing.

Grey repressed a scowl. "That's us."

"Well, no offense meant, laddie, I mean I'm grateful for the rescue but ye don't look like much of a Yank outfit, what with the big fella in the Chinese Kua-Fu nursing me wounds, a knife-wielding lass wearing European spec ops gear, and to say nothing of the trio of aliens."

"The aliens are with me," said Bau, as he approached Taggart, "Jondum Bau, Citadel Spectre."

Taggart eyed the Salarian Spectre suspiciously. "Oh? And why are ye going out of your way to rescue an old soldier like me, aye?"

"Your life matters little to me, in fact. I am here to apprehend Urdnot Wreav to answer for his alliance with the Geth."

Taggart snorted. "Well, that's a refreshing slap of honesty from a Gekko. But you're wasting your time, then. Wreav left this tub not ten minutes ago, I overheard his men talking."

Bau tapped the chin of his helmet. "Any idea where he went?"

"None, I'm afraid," answered the Scotsman.

"So that's that, then," said Grey, "Secondary objective is a no go. Time to evac." He turned to Taggart. "I ask again, sir. Are you good to walk or will you need to be carried?"

Taggart put his hands up. "Now hold a moment. We can't just leave yet. I'm guessing that the Acheron is itching for a fight against this hunk of junk?"

Bau and Grey nodded.

"Well, if that happens, then we're all in a lot of trouble."

"Why?" asked Grey.

"Because, gentlemen, the Drogo has been outfitted with nanite guns."

Grey and Bau's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh, shit."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Peak 15's residential was a piece of modern architecture built on the steep face of a rocky hill some 40 meters in height above sea level. Said hill was the sole piece of rock on this floating island of ice and snow, and thus the most solid foundation on which to build such a large building.<p>

The building was made up of eight stories, and to each floor was a balcony, a chest high barrier of pale concrete in front of inch-thick glass that insulated the apartments from the cold. Two towers were built in front and behind the building, and a skyway connected the two spires at their tops.

The sky was clear of clouds, and the sun shone on the building, making it cast shadows shaded by the blue of the sky. The snowy hill faces that reflected the sunlight were a bright vanilla. It was quite a beautiful scene.

"It's overrun by Weepers," said Bakara.

"Yeah, of course it is," said Adam, sighing wearily. "I suppose you need me to exterminate every single one in there?"

"No need. Now that the power is back on, we can just take the elevator and bypass the infested floors completely. Then, a short walk through the skyway, and then we'll arrive at the penthouse suite. That's where the children are."

"Well, that's a relief, but aren't the children in danger from these Weepers?"

"Weepers are cowardly creatures that prefer to lure their prey into ambushes, and the skyway is easy to defend. I showed the children how to use machine guns; they'll be fine."

"...You gave guns to _kids_?"

"Should I have left them defenseless?"

Adam understood her logic, but he did not quite like the idea of kids playing with dangerous weapons. He and Bakara entered the building through the main lobby, where Hannibal was waiting, laying down contently even as he was covered with the blood of the seven Weepers he had just killed. He hurried to Adam's side.

The elevator ride was painfully slow, since its linear drives were working at one quarter power. The skyway was littered with the corpses of Weepers so hungry for prey that they took their chances charging the entrance to the penthouse. One of them groaned and stirred, and Hannibal crushed its head under one of his clawed paws, splattering blood. That reminded Jensen of something.

"Look, Hannibal and I are covered with bio-hazardous stuff... I think we need to find a way to..."

"Don't worry. The children are in no danger of infection."

As they neared the entrance to the penthouse, a boy of ten who called himself 'Sheriff MacReady' (his real name was Kurt, according to Bakara) called out to them from inside a fort of storage crates. Manning a makeshift gun turret made out of a pair of computer water-based heat sinks, an office chair, and a pair of Lancer Mk IIs stuck together with duct tape, he had challenged them both to answer the password or be destroyed.

Of course, there was no password. In the time that Bakara had gone out to look for food, Kurt had decided to take over the penthouse by virtue of being the one that handled the guns. His stew pot helmet and paper badge was supposed to make him look intimidating, but neither Adam nor Bakara were having any of this nonsense.

One breach, and the Lancers stopped working, and their holographic displays went wonky.

"Hey!" the boy protested. "What gives?"

"Here's a life lesson, kid," said Adam. "The more power you think you have, the easier it slips from your grasp."

Kurt sulked and kicked some dust off the ground. "I'm just looking out for the other kids..."

It was then that Adam realized that the kid's skin was veined with black and tinged with yellow. Was he sick?

"I know, Kurt," said Bakara. "And you've done well, but for that little episode of going mad with power you'll get half your share of the meal today."

"D'aw... hey wait! You found something?!"

"Indeed." She produced the Dayak's liver. "One less Dayak lives."

"Awesome! HEY GUYS! AUNT BAKARA'S BACK AND SHE BROUGHT SOMETHING TO EAT!"

The Lancers reactivated, as Adam, Hannibal and Bakara made their way past the fort and entered the penthouse proper. All of its luxury had not survived contact with a dozen children without adult supervision. Makeshift toys were strewn about, marker drawings were all over the walls and windows, chairs had been toppled, and the makeshift beds in the living room were left unmade.

The 11 children that lived there were quick to gather to the trio. Hannibal and Adam (in his upgraded 108 armor) were easily the most interesting thing they had ever seen in a very long time. They gathered all around them, pawing at Jensen's greaves and trying to pet Hannibal.

"Are you here to rescue us?" asked the boy with a third eye on his cheek.

"Are you here to take us away from here?" asked the girl with gills for eyes.

"Are you the black Phoenix Ranger Featherman X?" asked a boy, his left arm twisted into a mass of tentacles, an eager, hopeful look on his face.

"Can I ride on your dog?" asked a girl, half her face a mass of fingers.

"What's his name?" asked another girl, her eyes pools of black, the skin mottled with purple spots and a tumor growing out of the side of her head.

They were all around six or eight years old, human, and horribly mutated. Adam knelt down and tried to reassure them, telling them that he had a ship waiting to take them all out of there, but he had to find someone first. He shared with them a pack of 5 nutrient bars to ease their hunger pains. Bakara shooed everyone away.

"What happened to them?" asked Adam.

"Europa Genomics happened to them," said Bakara. "I must go to the kitchen; I can't trust anyone else with preparing this, for obvious reasons."

"I'll stay here and make sure MacReady doesn't try and take over the place again."

Bakara chuckled. "Boys like him will always try to rule. It doesn't matter if it's schoolyard or a pile of rubble. I appreciated you humbling him, however. Join me in the kitchen as soon as you can. I suspect we'll have much to discuss."

**"We shouldn't waste too much time here," **said Hannibal as walked around the living room with two kids on his back. **"We should extract as much information as possible from Urdnot Bakara and leave."**

"I just want to make sure these kids will be okay."

**"As you wish. If you'll excuse me, it's Rudy and Cindy's turn, now."**

Adam spoke to each of the children, and all of their stories were pretty much the same. One day they went to sleep in their warm beds, and the next they they were being prodded by scientists on a cold metal slab, injected with mutagens on a daily basis. The goal of these experiments? They had no idea, but Hannibal, his ears dropping eave despite himself, had his suspicions.

Adam took note of another pair of children: a volus and... a pale blonde boy with rabbit-ears in a red coat, working with various pieces of junk on a workbench. Adam figured he was one of those mutants that had animal DNA, or maybe he was a Fiera.

He approached the rabbit-eared child from behind, patted him on the head, and asked: "Hey kiddo, what are you working on?"

The child turned around, revealing a fur-covered face that looked more like a cat than a hare. He fixed him with a somewhat annoyed look, and opened his mouth.

The voice that came out of it was deep, and quite mature.

"Excuse me, ser, but did you just pat me on the head like some child?"

"I, err, I... well..." Adam stammered, taken by surprise. "It's just that, well, you're so tiny and uh..."

"Oh, do collect yourself, man! You're not the first alien to make that mistake. So! In answer to your question, me and Sandal— do say hello, Sandal?"

"'Allo!" the small Volus waved.

"—are working on making spare shots for that monstrosity Bakara likes to lug around."

"You're a gunsmith?" asked Adam incredulously, despite himself. The small anthropomorphic rabbit-cat seemed to have come straight out of a story book.

"A layman, I assure you. My area of expertise is in commerce! But where are my manners?!" The rabbit took a bow. "My name is Alistair Montblanc, of the Wallister Montblancs, third of the name. And you are?"

"Shadow. You can call me Shadow."

"I see your parents were not an imaginative lot, then? I jest! I jest" Montblanc chuckled. "Well, with a name like that i suspect you're not quite the talkative type. Still, is there something I can I do for you?"

_"Hannibal?" _Adam transmitted sub-vocally._ "Am I talking to a rabbit, or have I gone completely nuts?"_

_**"Neither. You are speaking to a Pookah."**_

_"A what, now?"_

_**"Also known as Moogles, Pookahs are natives of Xytegenia. They are a client species to the Fiera, in a manner similar to the Turians and the Volus. While Fiera are not bad at commerce and bureaucracy, the Pookah are undeniable masters of the craft. They are also very adept at chemistry."**_

_"...And here I was hoping this galaxy couldn't get more weird."_

_**"We live in a galaxy dominated by blue women that can mate with their brains. We just killed a flying shark. Adorable rabbit-people should not require too much getting used to."**_

_"Point taken. Hm... I should visit Xytegenia some time."_

_**"...You should. It is beautiful."**_

Montblanc cleared his throat. "Are you alright?"

"Hm? Oh, I'm okay. Do you have any weapons, by any chance?"

Montblanc smiled and stepped down from his tool, and Adam realized just how tiny he was: the top of Montblanc's disproportionally large head barely reached the middle of Adam's thigh. "As a matter of fact, I do. Amongst other things." The small alien beckoned Adam to follow him to a nearby heavy plastic crate secured with a padlock that kept the contents safe from the children.

As it turned out, he had quite the inventory of IEDs stored in a locked coffer. Explosives made out of household chemicals were packed inside various containers: beer cans, bottles, vases, even a wine glass. Montblanc explained that he and Sandal were stocking up in case the Weepers or the Dayaks came in force. Adam was not comfortable with any of these laying around, let alone carrying them on his person: they looked so ramshackle and unreliable, more likely to explode in his hand than on target. Still, there was this glass vial the size of an apple. Montblanc said it was a simple smoke bomb. Adam thought that concealment from the Weepers and whatever else lurked in the dark corners of Peak 15 might be useful.

"That will be fifty platinum, ser."

"You're... charging me?"

"Of course I am! Sandal and I slaved over these for days! Good work demands good pay!"

Adam mumbled something as he fished out the money from one of his pockets. Money changed hands, and Adam pocketed the smoke bomb. Sure, he could have just knocked them out and taken their stuff, but that simply was not his style. After all, Montblanc was not trying to shoot him.

Speaking of which... "I don't suppose you've got any guns for sale, too?"

"I am afraid not: I was lucky to find those two Lancers in time, as the Weepers were getting quite hungry. In my search for supplies I came across little that could be used to make arms save makeshift bombs. I went through every drawer in this building, searched every storage room, broke many a crate..." Montblanc shook his head. "No weapons. Plenty of Nuyen, though."

"Damn."

"Enhancements?" asked Sandal.

"Excuse me?"

Sandal pointed at Sasha, Adam's revolver. "Enhancements!"

"Sorry kid," said the cop, "That's not for you."

Montblanc put his hands up. "Ah, you misunderstand! If you are in need of extra firepower, why not give your weapon to Sandal? I guarantee that after a moment of tinkering it will be better than ever."

"Right. How much is that service going to cost me?"

Montblanc rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm... afraid I can't quite put a price on his talents, especially considering the present circumstances. I have, after all, no idea what he'll do with it."

Adam considered the idea, and realized that Sasha had not been properly maintained since the Blacklight attack on his apartment. Deciding that he could always stop Sandal from breaking the weapon, Adam took out the moon clips and handed Sasha over to the Volus, only for the young boy to simply take the bullets from Adam's armored palm. Sandal got to work immediately, deploying a full chemistry set. His hands moved as if possessed, working at a pace Adam had a hard keeping up with.

"Can I offer you anything while we wait for him to finish?" asked Montblanc. "Some, ah... water, perhaps?"

"No thanks. We could always talk, though. How did—" Adam caught himself on the verge of saying 'a cute and adorable little fella like you', "—a guy like you end up in a place like this?"

"Well, you encounter a lovely woman in a black silk backless dress and a beautiful tattoo of a red bird on her back. You offer her a drink, regale her with tales of home: The War of the Lions, the March of the Black Queen..."

Adam flinched at the mention of the Black Queen. Caleston's weirdness was still a bit too fresh in his mind.

"...Then she says that her patron will find you a valuable specimen and the drugs in your drink kick in. Then you find yourself being prodded by scientists in a white room. You see, there aren't a lot of my kind out there in the vastness of space."

"And Sandal? How did he come to be here?"

"Ah, well, it's very simple. He followed me here."

"He followed you to a secret corporate laboratory island?"

"He follows me everywhere!" Montblanc patted Sandal gently on the back, so as not to startle him. "He and I have been inseparable ever since I found him in those ancient Turian bunkers. The Manticore watchmen were completely baffled when he arrived at their doorstep, asking for me by name! Can you imagine?"

"And they didn't kill him?"

"Oh, I convinced them not to. He's quite the savant, you see. I told them he would make an excellent maintenance man."

"Enhancements!" said Sandal, suddenly.

"There's that, too," continued Montblanc. "He's also responsible for most of our fortifications and functioning amenities here in this little safehouse of ours. He also made a few toys for the children."

"Can you tell me what happened here in Peak 15?" asked Adam. "I gathered that the creatures got loose somehow, but..."

"How? Hmph, I can shed little light on the matter since my perspective was limited. Days ago, it was the usual business of needles and probes when the klaxons blared. A while later... the screaming started as the Weepers and various other types of monsters I can't begin to describe slaked their appetites. Bakara came to my rescue, shotgun in hand, children in tow..." Montblanc sighed wearily. "...And here we are."

"Are you alright? I get the feeling there's something you're not telling me."

Montblanc took a deep breath. "I killed her."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Bakara had taken us to a tram to escape from the laboratories. Just as we were about to leave, who do I see but Sandal running at me? I held the door, so that he could come in... seconds behind him was a woman, and behind her... was a hungry Dayak."

Adam ran the scenario in his head and could see where this was going. "Oh, no..."

"I held the door long enough for Sandal to get through, and I intended to hold the door long enough for the woman to get through as well... but then I pictured the Dayak feasting on us all." Montblanc closed his eyes. "I shut the door, and the Dayak feasted on one instead of many."

"...I'm sorry you had to go through that. If it makes you feel any better... I think you made the right call, under the circumstances."

Montblanc fixed Adam with an indescribable gaze. "Tell me, what would you have done?"

What would Adam have done? Adam knew that he would have thrown himself at the Dayak and tried to save everyone. But he did not say this out loud: after all, he was a cybernetically enhanced agent. Montblanc did not so much have a gun at a time.

Adam decided to shift the subject away. "You mentioned Manticore security agents? What happened to them?"

"Did you perchance step on any shit on the way here?"

"I very nearly did."

Montblanc smiled, and Adam understood his meaning. They had been eaten and digested.

"Ah. And their Mechs?"

"The Manticore automatons were nowhere to be seen..." Montblanc's brow furrowed. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen a single one of them since I came here. Odd."

"You'd think a place like Peak 15 would be crawling with them."

"You would think, yes. May I ask you a question?"

"By all means."

"I overheard you have a ship ready to evacuate you... I don't suppose you could..."

"Call it in right now?"

"If that would not be too much trouble?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hey, you okay back there?" shouted Neil Flemming from the Copperhead's cockpit. He had been waiting to be called in for a while now, and he was feeling antsy. Garrus' constant tweaking and shoving in the passenger section was starting to wear a bit thin.<p>

"I'm ok!" replied the Turian cop. "Just need to secure this clamp here and uh WHOOPS!" There was a clanging noise, and Neil did not bother to check if he had broken something. There was a call on the flight console, after all.

"Highwind here," Neil replied. "What can I do for ya, doc?"

"_We have a situation on the ground. I'm patching you through to Shadow," _replied Aki. _"...encrypting channel... and done."_

_"Neil?"_ Adam's high baritone came through Neil's headset.

"Hey there, did you find our crazy wannabe Spectre?"

_"No. I found survivors. We're at the residential block in the middle of the island, on the top floor."_

"No shit? And you want me to evacuate them?"

_"As soon as possible. This place.. they're not going to last long. It's crawling with hostile mutants."_

"Aw, shit. How many civvies?"

_"Around 12 children, a Krogan, a Volus, and a... a Pookah."_

"...A what now?"

_"Never mind, it's a child-sized alien. Can you assist?"_

"Well, 10 of the kids will be able to sit down, but the rest are gonna have to stand... also, I may not be able to come back for you for a while. Hours, maybe."

_"Why not?"_

Aki gave Jensen a rundown of the situation. "The Geth have expanded their blockading efforts around Noveria: their fighters are making a show of attacking fleeing civilian ships from various small starports around the planet. The Acheron sent interceptors, but the Geth fighters always fade as soon as they arrive. No civilians have died, but..."

"But the Acheron's forces are getting spread a bit thin," continued Neil. "I won't have much cover going in, so I'm gonna have to burn fuel like a motherfucker to run that blockade. If I so much as get damaged, I'm going to need at least an hour to fix the damage."

"And you're going to need EVAC on short notice, too," said Ross. She sent both men a simple 2D image of the Peak 15 glacier, a high-res photograph taken by the Durendal's IMREC suite. She zoomed in on the western coast. Boats were beached on the ice, vomiting troops. "We've got a force of mercenaries of at least one hundred, supported by eight Jackal mechs and twelve gunships. They're slowly combing their part of the island, but it won't be long before they encounter you."

_"I can deal with them just fine,"_ said Adam. _"Don't worry."_

"Are you sure?" asked Aki, worriedly. "We sent you with too little equipment and..."

_"I'll just take theirs."_

Neil just shrugged and started the ignition sequence. "Hey, whatever you say."

_"Neil,"_ Adam added, _"The kids... they're sick. Keep your MIPS sealed, okay?"_

"Roger that." Neil closed his Nightmare helmet, but kept the goggles up. Flying with those on always threw him off. "ETA is 30 minutes."

_"Thank you. Shadow out."_

"Maybe this time I'll be able to save someone..." Neil said to himself. The engines began to roar. "Hey Garrus! Guess what!"

"What?"

"It's time for some thrilling heroics! You ready?"

"Well it's about damned time I got involved in this damn mess..." muttered Garrus. "I mean yeah, I'm ready!"

As Garrus tried to secure himself in the passenger cabin, he heard someone climb inside the craft. He turned to see Brea wearing a white fur-trimmed parka over light hardsuit, complete with a modded handgun in a holster strapped to her thigh.

"I'm coming with you," she said tersely. It wasn't a request.

Garrus simply shrugged. "Hey, you can do whatever you want."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"30 minutes," said Adam.<p>

"Oh, thank the old gods! Did you hear that, Sandal? We're getting out of here soon!"

"Enhancement!" Sandal happily held up the six bullets he took from Adam and handed them back to him. The modified .357s looked positively high-tech now, cored with glowy bits. Five of them glowed with a different color: blue, yellow, green, white, and teal. The last one, strangely enough, was black. Adam asked what each of them did.

"Boom!" Sandal said of the Yellow.

"Fzzzt!" he said of the Blue.

Of the Green, he made a hissing noise.

For the White, he simply pointed outside, at the falling snow.

For the Teal... he clapped his hands together. "Voop plink!"

"Yeah, that makes sense," quipped Adam. "And the Black one?"

Sandal stared at Adam for a moment, and pointed at his forehead. "Bang."

"So, nothing special about that one, huh?"

"...You don't like orange," said Sandal mysteriously.

"...No, no I don't." Adam sighed. "Well, thanks for the party favours, Sandal."

"Speaking of favours," said Montblanc, carrying four metallic tubes in his arms, "could you bring these four ammunition tubes to the kitchen? They are for Bakara's shotgun."

"Sure, I was going to talk to her anyways."

"Thank you. They are ever so heavy, you see..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Some of the children started humming a tune.<p>

As he made his way to the kitchen from the living room, Adam wondered what happened to the penthouse's owner. Probably killed in the outbreak. He then wondered what kind of person he or she was. No doubt it belonged to Peak 15's administrator, and a man of simple tastes: the furniture (or what was left of it) was fairly spartan and sturdy. There were not much in the way of pictures or decorations, so no family. The only thing of note was a glass gun case by the fake fireplace. It was large, obviously meant to store and showcase multiple weapons... but judging by the indentation in the velvet padding, it was used for just a large one.

"Interesting."

**"What is?"** asked Hannibal.

"Hm... oh, just thinking out loud."

The children started to harmonize, and the tune became a nursery rhyme. It took a moment for Adam to recognize it.

It was London Bridge is Falling Down.

"Good to know the kids can keep the spirits up."

**"... Hm? Err... Yes. As you say. Let's go talk to Bakara."**

Adam heard something go bump in a nearby vent. "Just a moment..." he opened the grate and peered inside, and saw a little blonde girl drawing sketches with crayons. The singing of the children became... not softer, but more distant and far away, somehow. "Hey... Hey you..." he called to the girl, his tone soft and soothing.

The girl did not look up. "Everyone died."

"I know... I saw what happened out there. But it's over now, and soon you'll be far away from here."

"I am far away. Far from here and there."

Adam was not sure what to say to that. Was she still in shock? "What's your name?"

"Annah."

"Alright, Annah, my name is..."

"Alif. That's what your mother called you. She told me."

Adam played along. "And what else did my mother tell you?"

"What she told you so long ago. Don't be afraid."

_In the center of a spherical chamber lay a woman, her blood pooling on the asphalt. She was Arab, or maybe Chinese; Adam could not quite tell from the cuts on her face. The man approached her with a curved piece of metal in his hand, ready to finish the job._

_"Alif, my little Alif...Don't be afraid..."_

_The blade pierced her throat, her eyes went slack, and little Alif, barely a year old, cried for his mother. _

_And then all was black._

Adam shook the vision off, and reached out for the girl. He had to get her away from that dark place. "Come on, Bakara is making you dinner. Aren't you hungry?"

"Always. Always hungry," replied Annah.

"Then take my hand..."

"...You can't save me. None of you can."

As she spoke the words, shadows crawled on the walls of the vent, and a multitude of oily shadows grabbed her from behind to drag her into the dark. Adam reached out—

—Only for his fingers to hit the wall.

**"What are you doing?"** asked Hannibal.

"I thought..." Adam looked all over the wall he was facing for the airvent the little girl had been hiding in, but could not find it. "...it's nothing."

But it was most certainly not nothing, Adam knew. The last time he started seeing things like that... there had been a Reaper nearby, trying to mess with his head. If one of those creatures was here, and was reaching out, then he had to find it and kill it before it dragged the planet to hell.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Bakara sat by the kitchen counter on which her helmet and shotgun were resting, along with a sledgehammer. The meat, sliced into equal portions for everyone save herself, was slowly stewing in its own juices, seasoned with what little salt Montblanc had managed to scrounge up. There would have been more to scavenge, had the supply shuttle come on time.<p>

Adam had never seen a Krogan female, to the point where he suspected that they were indistinguishable from the males. That was not quite the case: Bakara, compared to Wrex, was just as tall, but a bit more slender of shape. Her face was narrower, and her red crest had spiraling curves instead of pointed edges.

She took a sip of Ryncol and beckoned Adam to come over. She handed him the sledgehammer, and told him to pulverize her leg just so.

"The bone healed wrong," she explained. Without so much as a protest Adam picked up the sledgehammerand rested the hammer's head on the spot Bakara had tapped. He gave her a look (despite the featureless faceplate of his helmet). With Bakara's nod, the bone was broken again, and the woman let out a simple grunt.

She had been through worse. Far worse. She would not scream.

Using his Smart Vision, Jensen manipulated the pieces of bone in Bakara's leg quickly, racing against her regenerative abilities to ensure that the bone would not heal warped. He was mostly successful, and in a few minutes Bakara's limp would not be so bad.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"You're welcome."

"I overheard you and Montblanc talking. You called for evac?"

"I did."

"...Most men would have held the promise of rescue in return for a service."

"I am not like most men, then."

Her eyes narrowed. "I can see that, yes. So, you are not part of a Manticore clean-up crew, that much is certain. Why are you here?"

**"We came here looking for someone," **said Hannibal walking up, besides Adam.

"Then your mission has probably failed. Few survived the outbreak. Still, who is this person?"

**"Have you met anyone... unusual, lately? Someone with a certain undeniable magnetism that commanded your attention no matter how hard you tried to pull away?"**

Adam gave Hannibal a curious look, once again obscured by his helmet. Bakara pondered the question for a moment.

"I did. There was a new lab technician that brought me my meal. A tall young woman. I found her quite lovely, actually. Her voice had... a soft quality to it I found enchanting. When we were done talking I realized that I had shared with her far more than necessary about this place."

**"What did she look like?"**

"Tall, beautiful, like an Asari from Penthesilea... slender, but fit. Her hair was like pale gold."

**"Did she have a name?"**

"She called herself Joanna."

Hannibal looked at Adam. **"That was definitely Jack."**

"Jack's a cross-dresser?" asked Adam incredulously.

**"And a very good one. A useful skill for infiltration, wouldn't you say?"**

"_I_ was certainly fooled," said Bakara.

"What did 'Joanna' ask you about?" asked Adam.

"She was very interested in the Secret Projects area of the Bio-labs, as I recall, though she — or he — was quite oblique about it."

"Secret Projects?"

"The scientists of this place called it the Hot Labs, though I had never seen the inside of it. If this 'Jack' you're looking for is still alive, then he is certainly still there."

"How do I get to it?"

"...If I had a map, I could point it out, however—"

Adam mentally tapped into the 108's data drives and loaded the Peak 15's 3D Automap data he had pulled from Mira's core. Using his suit's integrated Omni-Tool, he held a miniature Peak 15 in his palm. Bakara began to manipulate the hologram, zooming in on an underground cube that she called the Biolabs.

"Here is where the outbreak began," she said. "What the map does not display, however, is an elevator shaft that leads down to an underwater chunk of the floating glacier. That is the secret projects area."

"How do you know about it?" asked Adam.

"The children and I were... denizens of the Bio-labs for quite some time. We observed quite a few things during our stay."

"I see." Adam opened a sub-vocal channel to Hannibal immediately. _"She's lying."_

**"**_**I suspected as much. What is your reasoning?"**_asked Hannibal as Bakara told them how to find the elevator.

_"Well, there's the fact that she knows far too much about this place, so she certainly wasn't here as a prisoner. And then you've got this penthouse. Look at the furniture."_

_**"The furniture here is rather large and very solid."**_

_"Perfect for a Krogan. And then you've got that gun case. Big enough for the HeK, wouldn't you say? I think she might have been the head scientist here."_

_**"I have never encountered a Krogan scientist worthy of the term..."**_said Hannibal doubtfully.

_"Blue women, flying sharks, and rabbit people," _reminded Adam.

_**"...Point taken. She is leading us into a trap, then. Shall I kill her?"**_

_"No. Let's see how this plays out."_

"...There should be a hidden panel on your left," continued Bakara. "Seeing as you managed to pull this data out of Mira's core, I take it you are a capable hacker?"

"I am," said Adam, nodding.

"...Then you should have no problem accessing the place," she said. Adam suspected she did not want to out herself by giving him the panel's code. No matter. He hardly needed it.

"I have a few more questions, if you don't mind."

"By all means."

"What exactly did EG do to those children back here?"

"Why, they tested some new military grade gene-mods on them, of course."

"I... don't think the Alliance is interested in gills for eyes."

"Of course not. But did you ever wonder how the current generation of human gene-mods got fine-tuned into what they are today? High compatibility rates, low risk of tumors, and so on? These require a great deal of testing to fine-tune, and experimenting on lab rats isn't going to provide the necessary data."

Once again, Adam knew that Bakara was not telling him the whole truth. What was the point of testing these mods on children? Yes, they were technically diverse, providing a broad variation in the gene pool, but the Alliance recruited people between the ages of 18 to 30, so testing within that age bracket would be optimal.

"And you? Did they experiment on you?"

Bakara, despite herself, put a hand on her belly. "...Yes. They were... interested in my condition."

"The Genophage? Did EG intend to cure it?"

"They studied it, thoroughly, but they did not want to cure it." Bakara looked straight at Adam. "The Genophage... the Genophage isn't what's really killing us. We still have children, but the manner in which they are born... it hurts. It hurts in ways you cannot imagine... to watch as hundreds of eggs go cold."

"Then a cure..."

"A cure would not help us. Tell me, Shadow? Do you have children?"

"...I adopted a girl once."

"Did you raise her as your own?"

"I would have. I never got the chance. She's dead."

"...My heart goes with you. But you must understand this: There is _power_ in child-birth..." Bakara stared at her hands. "...in _**creation**_. To shape a life, to turn it towards greatness or despair." She balled her hands tightly into fists. "It is a power that my people squander with an obsession with war. I came here hoping Europa Genomics would help me change the rules, change how we see our children, not as cannon-fodder but as the building blocks of a brighter future."

"And then they locked you up, right?"

"...Yes. In the end, I could not trust them. Do you have any more questions?"

"Actually, yeah. Aren't there any shuttles that could have transported you out? I think I see a shuttle bay on that part of the map, here."

"Peak 15 went into full lockdown. Nobody is supposed to go in or out. That means the hangar self destructed with everyone in it. Is there anything else?"

"No. Feed the kids, tell them to eat quick, and get them ready to be evacuated on the rooftop."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After a 5 minute lunch (getting hungry children to eat quickly was not a difficult task) Bakara prepared the children for the bitter cold by getting them to put on layers upon layers of cloth hastily sewn together by Montblanc and Sandal. There was, after all, no telling how long they would be waiting up there.<p>

"Are we going on a trip?" asked the gill girl.

"That's right," said Montblanc, "to outer space! Aren't you excited?"

"Are we going to see many aliens like you, Montblanc? Nice aliens?"

"Many, many nice aliens, you'll see..."

Hannibal was on the rooftop, making sure that no Weeper would be waiting for them up there. He reported that the wind and snowfall was starting to pick up, and a storm was brewing. The children were giggling, and wondering what space would look like.

_[Dead Space 3 OST: A Broken Past]_

Then, the phone rang, and everyone was quiet. The call display blinked Unknown in typical bright orange.

"...Someone from elsewhere on the base?" suggested Adam.

Bakara shook her head. "I've looked all over for other survivors. They did not last long."

Adam was about to Breach the phone and cut the connection when one of the children, a six year old boy, darted towards it and answered the caller gingerly. "Hello," he asked, and after a moment he handed the phone to Adam. "It's for you."

Adam tweaked his helmet's vocalizer to disguise his voice. "Hello?"

A woman's sultry voice replied. _"Hello, Adam."_

"Who is this?"

_"Do you not remember me? We danced on the rooftop near the Souq."_

Red Raven. "I have no idea what you're talking about, lady."

_"Please, call me Mey. You and I will become very intimate, very soon."_

"Look, I should be going..."

_"...to shepherd the twelve little lambs away from the wolves, hm?"_

Adam motioned everyone to hurry up. The children did not understand, but Bakara did, and Montblanc followed suit.

_"I look forward to us meeting again. I look forward to breaking you."_

Adam said nothing, but recalled the fight on the rooftop, and this Red Raven had not exactly impressed him.

_"Ah, so you do remember me..."_

Adam's eyes widened. How did she know what he was thinking? "...You're a Reaper."

Mey Leng laughed, almost haughtily. _"No, Adam... I am no Reaper. But I have been touched by them, and they let me in on a few of their secrets. Do you wonder why I let you break me?"_

"You're a masochist?" Adam quipped.

_"A bit, yes... but that was not my goal. I let you drink from me, Adam, just like you drink from your every foe. I am now a part of you... but soon, you shall be a part of me in turn."_

"...You're not making any sense."

_"No? Surely you must have noticed... every man you've killed, every spirit you've broken... each victory made you stronger, faster, more resilient. Did you ever wonder why that was?"_

"...It's the implants. They—"

Leng laughed even harder. _"Is that what Sarif told you? He lied. He lied to convince you that you are just like the rest of the sheep, so that you can tell yourself you're not a freak. But you are... no, not like me. But soon, soon you will be."_

"Thinking of making me your next pet, like Draven?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>[A Broken Past 2:28]<p>

Hannibal sat waiting for any sign of the Copperhead's arrival, though his visual range was starting to get shorter and shorter as the snowstorm began to rage in earnest. He filtered the howl of the wind away, and noticed something that should not be there. Hannibal tuned his sensors in the direction of the noise. The object was a silver cylinder with an orange tip that left a plume of smoke behind it. Hannibal zoomed in, and made out the letters W and P printed in white on the orange.

It was a missile.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Oh, sweet sweet Hayden. He's broken, now. He won't come to play with me anymore. But no matter. I've found a new toy, a better toy..."<em>

"Sorry, but I don't like needy women."

_"Oh, soon you will **beg** me to make you mine. I know your secret, Adam. I know what makes you wake up in cold sweats every morning. I'll surround you in it, Adam, bathe you in it until you beg me for release. Do YOU know what it is?"_

"Do tell."

_**"...It's FIRE."**_

A Codec Call came in. It was Hannibal.

_**"ADAM! WHITE PHOSPHOROUS INCOMING!"**_

**A shiver of horror crawled all around Adam's head."EVERYONE!" he screamed. "HIT THE DECK!"**

The missile exploded above the penthouse, showering the building with plumes of white smoke and bright flames. The fire licked the thick windows, and the sudden shift in temperature caused the glass to warp and crack. The wind pressure did the rest, and the glass burst into the penthouse, riding a violent gust of air. Thankfully, the children had already left the place. Only he remained.

All he had to do was step through the doorway and he would have been out, but a barrier of intense flames barred his way. He knew the 108 could withstand the flames long enough, but terror gripped his heart.

"No... no..." he muttered, reflexively shielding his face from the fire.

"Shadow!" screamed Montblanc through the doorway. "What are you waiting for! Come on!"

"I... I can't!"

"Hurry! The explosives!"

True enough, Adam saw furious flames hungrily lap over the locked crate. He brought up his Omni-Armor, just as the flash burst through his optics, and all was dark.

He opened his eyes, though his vision was blurred. He was staring up at the sky, smoke rising and obscuring the white sky. His vision darkened, then returned, and for a brief moment he could see Fahl and Sunny hovering above him.

"Ah..." Adam tried to say their names, but he could barely make the sounds.

"Arise, Adam... this is not how your story ends..." whispered Fahl. Sunny said nothing, only looking at Adam sadly. Adam blinked, and they were gone. Instead, two men in dark armor were looming over him.

"The fuck is that? A Mech?" said one.

"Looks like one but... Meh," said the other as he pointed a glossy black Harrier assault rifle at Adam's head. "Let's just pop a couple of rounds in its head to make sure. We've got our orders. Sanitize everything and everyone."

Adam grabbed the rifle by the muzzle, pulled, then pushed, causing the weapon's stock to smash the soldier's dark faceplate. The other one did not have time to react before Adam kicked him in the leg and finished him by straddling him and punching him in the face.

He recognized the buckets they wore on their heads, and when their bodies started to dissolve he knew who they were.

Blacklight.

Harrier in hand, Adam hurried back up the residential building, hoping to get back to the children before they were 'sanitized'. Just as he was about to Zero Shift from floor to floor, a pair of Manticore gunships, more heavily armed and covered in Anti-Personnel flechette pods, fired their Incendiary rockets at him. He was forced to take cover in the building, where even more flames awaited him.

"Gotta get to the elevator," he muttered to himself, feeling the heat despite his insulation. His breaths were short and quick, and he felt as though his chest would explode. "Come on, Adam, you're faster than this, come on..."

Despite his augmentations, Adam found himself moving through the burning building at a fairly normal pace, avoiding fire wherever he could.

He encountered a Blacklight team fighting a bunch of Weepers on the way, armed with shotguns and flamethrowers. Their weapons proved effective, but the sheer number of Weepers, combined with the close quarters of the apartments, meant that more than a few Blacklights were brought down and eaten.

One unfortunate soldier had been pounced on by three of the creatures, his two partners too busy fighting to come to his aid. They tore his helmet off, and for a while it seemed like they wanted to snuggle against his naked face. The man screamed as his flesh seemed to melt and fuse with the Weepers' like putty. His screams grew lamer and lamer, as if his brains were being sucked out.

Adam fired Sasha at his head out of mercy. A yellow blast roared out of his gun, and the soldier, along with his three devourers, exploded in a sphere of kinetic energy.

Adam remembered what Sandal had said. "Boom," indeed.

He removed the colored bullets and replaced it with Smuggler's hand loads. No sense in wasting Sandal's other bullets until he needed them.

"We got another hostile!" shouted one of the surviving Blacklights.

"Another of those creatures?" shouted another.

"Unknown operative! Open fire!"

Another fireteam came around a corner. **"Get out of my way,"** he said menacingly. The flames may slow him down, but they would not stop him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Lancer in his small but strong hands, Kurt MacReady watched as the safehouse exploded, no doubt destroying the Shadow. Montblanc urged the children to run towards the elevator. Bakara led the way.<p>

"Baba? Where are we going?" asked one of the smaller kids.

"...To the tram station!"

"Are we going back to the labs? I don't wanna go back to the labs, Baba!" whined another.

"It's not safe for us here any—"

Something burst through the skyway's roof. It looked like a robot, or a car, only with a man inside of it. Baraka charged at it with her shotgun, but its shields held fast. It burst forward on glowing skates, and smacked Bakara aside.

Kurt saw something appear outside through the skyway's windows. A matte black shuttle, curvy, rectangular, and with two engines facing opposite directions on each side. The side door opened, revealing a team of men in dark armor. One of them had a rocket launcher.

The rocket exploded against the thick glass, and for a moment, Kurt could see nor feel nothing. When he came to, his Lancer was dropped in front of him.

"Piece of junk Lancer," said the soldier kneeling in front of him.

The other soldiers were busy lining up the crying children against the intact glass wall. Bakara struggled to rise, but the heavy foot of the huge robot-man against her chest kept her pinned. Another soldier examined her big gun, and decided to keep it as a prize. "Whereas I get the boomstick," he said, laughing.

"Man, fuck you. Anyways, kid's dead."

There were six soldiers in the ruined skyway, with maybe 10 more in the invisible shuttle, by Kurt's reckoning. He overheard one of them, probably the leader, speak in his helmet.

"LT? The woman was right, we did find a bunch of survivors... I know, but they're kids, sir... Yes, they're mutants, but..." he sighed. "Yes sir, I know, orders are orders."

"So are we really doing this?" asked another. "I mean..."

"Yeah, no witnesses, remember?"

"...So, uh, who's gonna do it?"

"AW, YOU LADIES WANNA HOLD EACH OTHER'S VAGINAS?" boomed the Robot. The gatling gun on his left arm revved up. "I'LL DO IT, YOU PUSSIES."

"Yeah, real manly of you to shoot defenseless kids."

"DAMN STRAIGHT."

"Please!" begged Montblanc. "I've got a fortune in platinum waiting for you if you let us go!"

"Did that bunny just talk?"

"HEH, REMIND ME TO KEEP THAT ONE. I HAVEN'T HAD RABBIT IN YEARS."

The Lancer let out a burst of tiny pellets that ricocheted on the robot, a last act of defiance courtesy of Kurt MacReady.

"YOU LITTLE SHIT!" The gatling gun moved towards the boy. "YOU GET TO GO FIRST!"

Suddenly, the shuttle that was hovering outside began to falter, and the men inside came apart in red gushes. Something appeared on it and leapt off before it went crashing against the rocks.

"Oh shit! That's Hannibal!" screamed the leader.

"WHAT?!"

"LT, we have confirmation on Hannibal, send rein—"

The elevator dinged, and Shadow emerged from the sliding doors. To Kurt it was the strangest thing: one second he was there, and the next he was floating above the Robot man in a cloud of blue energy, planting a sword in its armored, neckless head. The other soldiers went down the same way: Shadow appeared next to them, punched them in the head, and vanished. One of them, he simply shoved hard against the thick glass.

Bakara, now free, picked up her big gun and fired it at two ships that were coming to shoot them all, and then it was their turn to crash and burn. Hannibal landed next to Shadow, covered in blood.

It was the coolest thing Kurt had ever seen.

"Kurt!" shouted Bakara worriedly as she ran up to the boy and lifted the rubble from his body.

"I'm okay! I'm okay! Wow!" He looked up at Bakara, Shadow, and the big cyberdog with admiration. "You guys were AWESOME!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam examined the boy. Miraculously, he was hardly hurt.<p>

**"We must hurry,"** said Hannibal. **"More Blacklight troopers will be here soon."**

"How's the rooftop?" asked Adam.

**"Very open to further missile attacks."**

"Any ideas where to go next, then?"

"We need to stay on the move," said Bakara. "The Apartments' Tram station should be functional now that the power is back on. And the Labs are a few stations away."

"The place will be crawling with more creatures."

"I don't intend to have the children follow you in there, of course. Have your ship pick us up on the way, if possible."

"Right." Adam opened up a codec channel to Neil. "Copperhead, how's that Evac coming? We're under attack!"

_"Err, yeah, about that..._" replied Neil, a nervous edge to his voice. _"It's going to take a while longer."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Breaking through the Geth blockade had been simple enough: All Neil had to do was accelerate to Mach 25, cut the engines and other non-essentials, then look like a piece of falling debris. Of course, in atmospheric conditions, low-power would not do. He stabilized the craft and decelerated to the Copperhead's top flight speed of Mach 2.1<p>

The chicane Peak 15 was hiding in had been just below them, past the stormclouds. Doc Ross had warned Neil that the Durendal's optics could not cut through that concealment... which gave the pilot a bad feeling about this flight as he lowered the Copperhead past the thick blanket of white gas.

_[Ace Combat Assault Horizon OST — Release]_

Then, something invisible burst from a nearby cumulus, like a killer whale lying in wait for a school of prey. The silhouette caused by the parallax distortion of the Optical cloak was unmistakable: it was the Normandy, and when she started shooting Neil got the distinct feeling that she was not here to help.

Neil had been dodging and weaving for five minutes before Adam made his call. The worst part of the challenge was keeping track of the deceptively fast ship: Neil had to eyeball it with the Copperhead's visual sensors. The frigate simply did not show on the sensors: Infrared, radar, not even sonar imaging. And then you had the mass distortion of its Tantalus drive: Neil had to compensate for the increased mass of his ship every ten seconds.

The Deep Eyes' pilot dropped a decoy pod, and the Normandy's heat seeker missile went wide and exploded away from the Copperhead. The blast washed over the hull, rumbling throughout the interior. Brea and Garrus braced themselves for worse.

"Just a few more minutes, though, no worries!" said Neil, sweat beading on his brow. _"_Just need to shake a _goddamned stealth frigate."_

Adam's response came out garbled with static. _Damn, _Neil thought, _they're jamming my frequency._

"Can't you do something?!" shouted Brea from the passenger cabin.

"Brea?! The fuck are you doing on-board?!"

"I sneaked in!"

"Well, in answer to your question..." Neil cranked up the inertial dampeners and executed a Crazy Ivan, turning on a dime and putting the Copperhead and the Normandy in a game of chicken. He dropped a chaff pod, and it exploded right on top of the Alliance frigate, temporarily blinding it.

Neil took this chance to dive down into the chicane, though the invisible Normandy was back in hot pursuit in moments.

"That's right," Neil muttered to himself. "Come on... come on come on I want you to follow me."

The largest of the Islands had a few steep hills and cliffs of rock and ice, and even a circuitous canyon, which Neil happily went into, knowing it would provide him with cover. The Normandy pilot, he suspected, had wanted to follow him in, but couldn't do it in a frigate.

So instead, he launched six drones at the Copperhead.

"Aw, crap," said Neil as they followed him into the canyon. Things got really crazy when the Normandy started firing its secondary guns at the canyon walls, forcing Neil to dodge both drone fire and falling blocks of ice.

"Challenge accepted. kid!" Neil proceeded to fly over and around each piece of ice. The drones following him were not quite as good as he was: one got hit by a falling block, while the other crashed into the ice wall. The other four were gunned down: Neil had gotten behind them with a tail spin when they lost track of him in the falling ice blocks.

"Yeeee haaaa!" Neil shouted victoriously. "Four more kills on the board!""Doesn't this thing have missiles!" roared Garrus, tired of Neil's stunts, and tired of running away. "We have to fight back!"

"Don't worry! We got plenty of something that they're about to come up short on, trust me!"

"And what's that?"

"Time!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Target headed... urgh... for the canyon, launching drones." <em>Joker's strained voice came through the intercom on the bridge of the Normandy. Captain Anderson stood at the rear of the Normandy's elongated CIC, monitoring the pursuit through the holographic nav interface. One eye was fixed on the outdated United States aerospace craft, the other was glancing at the fleet of Geth many kilometers above them.

_What are we doing?_ Anderson asked himself. They should have answered the Acheron's call for any combat capable ship to stand with them against the impending invasion. Freelancers had answered it. A Volus freighter had answered it. Goddamned Hein had answered it... but then Corvin declared Code Black, giving himself authority over the Normandy, when the Stealth Heavy Kodiak returned without Lawson or even those creepy twins, and ordered the entire ship to go silent.

When he was commanded to transport the small company of Blacklight soldiers to a chicane of islands in the southern hemisphere that the Geth seemed to be observing, it seemed his faith in the chain of command had been rewarded. Corvin would find whatever it was that the Geth were after, and move it far, far away from Dosadi.

Anderson's hopes, as always, had been quickly dashed. Corvin was here to clean up. And now, with an armed Blacklight soldier casually holding a gun close to every major member of the crew from the captain to the doctor, Anderson was helping him in the task. Corvin had even taken Anderson's N7 gear, no doubt to add insult to injury.

"Nobody goes in or out save Blacklight."

That had been the order. And when the Durendal's light transport, a Copperhead, appeared on the Normandy's scopes, Anderson knew he was not going to walk away with his hands clean.

As it turned out, he was not going to walk away with his sanity intact either, as it turned out.

_"Dammit!"_ grunted Joker, frustrated. _"This guy's good — the drones are down! I'm moving closer and taking him out if it's the last thing I do!" _Anderson was not exactly surprised at Joker's sudden outburst of bloodthirstiness.

Chief Adams' voice came through the intercom. _"Engineering to Bridge!"_

"Adams, report!"

_"The EM saturation is reaching critical. We can't do this much longer!"_

On his left, Navigator Pressly vomited. Anderson himself was feeling seasick, and felt the aura of a migraine coming on...

_"We have to shut down the optical cloak or we'll all go insane!"_

_London bridge is falling down... falling down... falling down..._

David thought he caught a glimpse of someone on his left... someone that looked a lot like Kaidan. He turned, but saw no one. The EM Cloaking Psychosis was starting.

"Do it!"

**"BELAY THAT," **The Blacklight trooper said, his voice modulated through his helmet to make himself sound more intimidating. Anderson thought it made him sound annoying, and wanted to rip his throat out. "CODE B... CODE BLACK IS IN EFFECT. WE CANNOT BE SEEN."

"Then we need to submerge and switch off the Cloak!"

**"CODE...BLACK IS IN EFFECT!"** recited the black ops soldier, no doubt trying to hold on to his own sanity. **"W-WE HAVE TO TAKE OUT THAT SHIP! USE THE GARDIAN LASERS!"**

"We can't! The cloak is on! Listen to me! This chase is not worth our lives! We have to submerge or we're ALL going to die!"

**"... WE ARE... BLACKLIGHT... THE WATCHERS IN THE SHADOWS..."**

"Goddamnit, talk to me!" It was no use; all the soldier could do was remember his training, and that left no room for critical thinking.

**"UNSEEN... UNSUNG..."**

[Dead Space 3 OST — Vomit Comet]

Bang. The gun blast resonated through the intercom, and someone in Engineering screamed.

The Blacklight trooper mistook the noise as an attack, and would have shot Anderson immediately had the captain not grabbed his Harrier. The two struggled with the weapon for a while, until Anderson forced the barrel under the Blacklight's chin and pulled the trigger.

_"Goddamnit, NO! Anderson! My minder just shot Welkin and... oh shit... he took out the Cloak's controls__!__ I c-can't shut it down..."_

"Then cut the power!"

_"I... I don't remember what the device looks like... I can't... did we even install it? What's it even made out of, Anderson?"_

"Adams! Shut it down now!"

_"...I... The water! Anderson, get us in the water!"_

Of course. The cloak could not function underwater. Failsafes would shut the device down automatically. "You heard the man, Helmsman! Take us down into the water now!"

_"FUCK YOU!"_

Anderson had never expected that to come out of Joker's mouth, ever. He was too smart for that kind of thing.

_"I CAN BEAT HIM, I'M BETTER THAN HE IS, I'M BETTER THAN ANY OF YOU! YOU'RE ALL GOING TO SEE!"_

Anderson looked frantically around for someone sane. No such luck. The entire bridge crew were writhing in pain. Some were stuck in a fetal position, others were scratching their faces off, and most were on all fours retching.

The walls on the Normandy's CIC seemed to expand and dilate, and yet seemed to press down on him. Anderson kept himself upright by sheer force of will, and made his way towards the helm. Only now did he realize the major flaw in Turian bridge design. Everything seemed so far away and out of reach.

_"STOP GRINNING AT ME LIKE THAT! I... DIDN'T ASK TO BE BORN LIKE THIS!"_

The ship shook and groaned, and Anderson fell on his face. He realized to his horror that Joker had just grazed a mountain, and if he kept flying like this they would crash!

Harrier in hand, Anderson picked himself back up and hurried. He was halfway through to the screaming Joker when someone rushed at him and tried to strangle him.

It was Kaidan.

His skin was covered in ash. The skin on his throat was twisted and warped. His eyes were not there, the lids wrapped around black pools. A light emerged from his mouth, and a distant sound came out.

"You take his gifts, and use them without question..."

Anderson blinked, and instead of Kaidan the Blacklight Trooper assigned to watch over Joker was there in the ghost's stead, trying to rip Anderson's eyes out. No doubt to replace the ones he ripped out of his own sockets.

"I had to do it!" the trooper screamed. "Don't you understand?! TELL ME YOU UNDERSTAND!"

Anderson shoved him back and smacked the butt of the Harrier against the trooper's face. When that did not have the desired effect, he hit him again, and again, and again...

_Stop,_ he told himself. _I have to save the ship!_

The helm was in a sorry state. Most of the haptics were glitching. At the sensor station, Ensign Draven was in the fetal position under the console, crying. "Hayden... why did you leave us?" she sobbed. "Why?"

Joker was no longer flying the ship. He was now leaning over from his seat, hammering at his console with his bare, bloody fists.

"I WILL KILL HIM!" roared Joker, his face contorted with both fury and despair.

"Joker! Get us down!"

"Don't you get it?! NO ONE will respect me if I don't do this! NO ONE!"

It was no use. Joker had been taken over by his personal demons.

"I'm sorry about this, son..."

Anderson pulled Joker out of the chair and kicked him in the legs, breaking his shins to immobilize him. The young man screamed and cried, and for a moment he was himself again, wondering why his captain had done this to him... before snarling again. The captain sat in the chair and snapped off the metal covers at the chair's arms, and a classic joystick and rudder whirred out. The window shutters opened: the Normandy was well on her way towards a mountain.

He pulled the joystick back, and desperately looked for a body of water. The snowstorm had gotten worse, and visibility was limited.

The cockpit seemed to stretch into infinity, and all was dark in front of Anderson. From the shadows came... Shepard, her naked body covered in ashes. Blood poured out of her heart, and her eyes and mouth were empty.

She smiled at him, climbed on top of the console, and approached him on all fours like a cat. Her mouth opened, but did not move to make the sounds. A light flickered from deep within her throat. Everything from the screams of the crew to the roar of the engines became so distant might as well have not been there.

"He is coming... coming to REAP what he has SOWN."

She was so close, now caressing his face. _You're not real_, Anderson tried to say, but the words were stuck in his throat. From behind him, Kaidan spoke.

"You are all fuel for her resurrection..."

Sheppard nibbled at Anderson's ear and whispered more dark tidings.

"And when you are part of the whole, all will be QUIET. All will be STILL."

"It's pointless to resist..." whispered Kaidan.

Anderson roared in fury and wrestled with the emergency controls. He glimpsed a beach, and forced the Normandy to dive in.

The EM field that warped light around the ship fizzled out in contact of the water, and Shepard screamed, the light in her throat shining even brighter, cracking the edges of her mouth.

And then she was gone. Anderson breathed a sigh of deep relief as the Normandy sank deeper into the water, safe from any eyes watching from above.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Have a nice swim, cocksuckers!" Neil whooped as the Normandy sank further into the water. Sadly, the cloak was getting wonky, and getting good footage of the ship was out of the question. But that was fine; there were more pressing matters. "Everyone okay back there?"<p>

Brea grit her teeth as she fixed a dislocated shoulder. "I'm fine."

"Same here! How did you manage to shake them off?"

"They were using an EM-based optical cloak. Can you believe the dumb fucks?"

"On a frigate?! Are they nuts?!"

"Well, if they weren't before they certainly are now!"

"That... That's cold, Neil. Cloaking Psychosis is—"

"Hey, those assholes just tried to kill us! So I certainly won't lose any sleep..." Neil stopped his rant when he heard some static on the radio. He fiddled with the haptic dials, and tried to clean the static up. "Copperhead to Shadow! You still alive?"

There was some static laced with some gunblasts, and Adam's voice rang out: _"Neil, hurry the hell up! We're under attack!"_

"Alright, alright just hold on we're..." Neil checked the map. "Just 5 minutes away!" Neil pushed the throttle and triggered the afterburners. It was time for some heroics.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It made sense really, why Blacklight were so easy to defeat. In spite of their gear and superior training, Blacklight troopers were not really selected for their skill and talent in combat. They were selected, above all else, for their loyalty, and their willingness to get their hands dirty in the business of cloak and daggers. That probably narrowed down their recruitment pool, considerably. Most Alliance Marines joined up to defend humanity, not to commit murder.<p>

Now, the mercenaries that were chasing Adam and the survivors... they were a different breed of killers. They were veterans, amoral soldiers of fortune forged in the heat of combat in some of the worst conditions the galaxy had to offer. They were smart, and unbelievably vicious, and cared little for the moral implications of the job as long as they got paid.

As a Tram on the opposing track had come up next to the car the survivors were riding on, Hannibal had attempted to jump on it to slice up the alien mercs, only to be smacked away by a volley of Concussion Shots. Hannibal recovered quickly and tried to run back to the survivors' car, but one of the two Jackals harassing them with incendiary rockets took it upon itself to try and take him out with machine gun fire. Fortunately, they were in a tunnel, and Hannibal had no problem outmaneuvering the large mechs to reach the pilots.

Who had been strapped with explosive grenades.

Hannibal had escaped undamaged, but he would not be of much help as he tried to catch up. The two cars and the other pursuers exited the tunnel, exposing them to a pair of gunships. Bakara fired a four-shot burst at one of them. Instead of being destroyed, it simply returned to base for repairs.

The survivors' tram car was in bad shape. Adam had hastily glued anything that could absorb a bullet or two against it to provide cover for the children. He even put crates up against the window seats. However, the mercs' suppressive fire was starting to eat away at the makeshift armor. They were using Avengers modified to fire Disruptor rounds, no doubt hoping to damage Adam's systems.

The mercenaries tossed some grenades. Adam recognized them immediately: Batarian Inferno Grenades. As he and Montblanc scrambled to toss the live grenades out, the enemy car moved in closer. Three mercenaries dressed in orange armor— a Turian, a Salarian and a Drell — jumped through the broken windows, intent on causing as many casualties as they could with their Talon pistols and Omni-Blades.

The children cried louder, terrified, and more so when five bolts from an Omni-Bow were buried in her shoulder. They though she was doomed. Bakara merely grunted, annoyed.

Adam saw red, and engaged the Drell, only to be held back by the Turian, who caught him in a full-Nelson.

"Sorry mate," said the Turian in an unmistakably British accent. "Boss Lady wants you to _watch._"

Said Turian made the mistake of turning his back on Alistair Montblanc, who produced a small hatchet from his sleeve and buried it in the back of the Turian's knee. Adam was free to snap the Salarian's neck, who was just about to stab a little girl in the belly.

As for Bakara, she had pulled the bolts by the handful and shoved them in the Drell's left eye. She then seized him by the leg and threw him at the opposite track, hoping that his corpse would dislodge the enemy car from it linear rail and make it crash. No such luck.

Meanwhile, Montblanc and Kurt were busy finishing the Turian. Montblanc savaged the neck seal with his hatchet, while Kurt caved the Turian's head in with the butt of his (now useless) Lancer.

"This is some fine rescue you organized for us!" shouted Montblanc as the Mercs redoubled their suppressive fire, no doubt in preparation for another boarding action.

Another incendiary rocket exploded in front of them, and Adam's heart raced. "You wanna know the funny part? This is supposed to be my vacation!"

"I'd hate to see what you call work!"

The second boarding party never came, for the first had already done their job: distract Bakara. The remaining gunship was in a perfect position to fire a volley of explosive rockets.

The volley was swatted away by a surge of biotic energy, a move that Adam had not quite mastered. More than a couple of the missiles exploded right next to their tram car, sending the whole thing flying up. Adam attempted to extend the yield of his Icarus Landing System with moderate success, making the vehicle almost glide a hundreed meters away from the track...

...Where it crashed upon a sheet of thin ice close to the edge of the island, barely thirteen inches. Adam and Bakara checked on the children. I few cuts and bruises, but they were otherwise physically fine. Kurt, especially. That boy was just plain lucky.

Neil's voice came over the codec. _"Adam! Adam__,__ we're here! __S__hoot up a flare so that we can see you!"_

Adam opened the sliding door that lead above, and fired an emergency flare from his left omni-tool, outside he saw three Jackals and fifty mercenaries were waiting for them, supported by two gunships and a dropship. The mercs threw a few more Inferno grenades his way, and they exploded around the car.

Adam looked up to see the Copperhead, flying away from bursts of flak, and his artificial heart sank. It was him, a boy, a old woman and a rabbit standing between a small army and a few innocent children.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Dammit! Where did that Flak come from!" Neil scanned the island, and found an AA emplacement 800 meters away. It was just the one, but Manticore was setting up two more. One of them was a GARDIAN laser.<p>

"Damn it, Neil!" shouted Garrus. "Dodge them and get us in there!"

"Can't! I have to take out that AA first or we'll be shredded as soon as we try to land!"

Garrus was furious— he had not come all this way to abandon his partner at the last second. "ADAM'S GOING TO DIE!"

"AND WE'LL BE NO GOOD TO HIM DEAD!..." Neil regretted shouting at the Turian, but it was the truth. "I'm sorry, but for now he's on his own!"

Garrus closed his eyes for a moment, calming himself for what he was about to do. "...No." He grabbed the modified Longinus particle rifle, then made his way to the Copperhead's neck, where the landing ramp was. He overrode the controls and opened the door, letting the cold wind blow through the passenger's cabin. He took a deep breath. Airdrop training back in the army had been a long, long time ago, and he was not sure if he could pull it off again.

Aya screamed over the howl of the wind. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

"I'M GOING TO JUMP! CARE TO JOIN ME?"

"ARE YOU INSANE?!"

"NOPE." His helmet deployed and sealed itself over his face with a dozen clicks and whirrs. **" JUST DEVOTED."**

Garrus activated his plasma jets and dove headfirst into the fray. As he dodged and strafed, evading Flak gun blasts all the way down, he was thankful that he, Ryan and Hein had resolved that potential icing problem.

Now, if he could just remember how to brake...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal ran full speed upon the ice, trying to keep the memories of Luna at bay. He hated the snow: beautiful as it was, its color made for a terrible reminder.<p>

The car had been knocked away from the rail. The situation was dire: three fires were blazing around it, slowly melting the ice. In a matter of minutes, it would crack, and break, and the children would drown. Adam and Bakara, on the other hand, would no doubt be fine.

He could have left them to their fate. Should have. He could have gone straight to Jack and they could have hijacked a Manticore craft and gotten out. But after years of doing the AIA's dirty work, Hannibal was done letting innocents die.

A Jackal moved in closer to the fallen tram car and prepared to stomp the ground, an attempt to either crack the ice immediately or knock the car over to expose the passengers inside to gunfire.

Hannibal charged into the fray, teeth bared. He leapt in a serpentine pattern to avoid gunfire, kicking up snow with each jump. He snarled at the approaching Jackal, ready to slice it to ribbons...

Only for a streak of dark blue metal and bright cyan plasma to smash into the machine, caving in the abdomen and crushing the pilot inside. Hannibal landed behind the fallen machine, and looked back. Emerging from the wreck was a figure not unlike an angel, armored from head to toe. Two nacelles strapped on its back folded out like wings, revealing a pair of plasma jets beneath them. In its hand was a modified Longinus particle beam rifle.

Hannibal recognized it as a Templar, and a red mist surged through his circuits. Revenge was foremost in his thoughts, now.

He was just about to attack when the rocket exploded between them.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Got 'em!" <strong>_whooped Zaeed Massani over the radio.

It was a shame that Zaeed Massani had died in that Jackal, but Zaeed Massani simply shrugged, clicked his mandibles, and watched the ball of black smoke expand. He reported the unknown Bogey and Hannibal to the boss lady, and that they had been taken care of.

"Then continue to torment your quarry. Kill the innocents around him, and make sure he sees them die. Make it last, Massani. Your payment depends on a good show."

Zaeed Massani did not like killing kids, but for the right price he still did not like killing kids but for the right price right price right price rightprice—

—Zaeed Massani shook his head. This Red Raven lady was quite the creep, but damn did she pay well. And Zaeed Massani had no problem killing civilians, as long as he got paid well for the task.

From the smoke burst the Bogey, wisps of smoke losing their grasp on his wings as he flew erratically around the gunships, evading their gunfire. Not only was the winged bastard quick, but he was packing some serious firepower: some kind of light machine gun that fired pulses of purple laser beams. The gunships never stood a chance. Poor Zaeed Massani, he was gonna retire after this last job.

On the ground, Zaeed Massani, that Salarian punk that owed Zaeed Massani fifty platinum, was the first to be cut down by that damned robot dog. Massani was about to order a proper counter-attack when a smoke bomb emerged from the Tram and exploded above Zaeed's ground troops, covering them all in a thick, nearly impenetrable fog.

His helmet's visor helped see in front of him, but not far enough to get a good look to shoot at his attackers. Gunfire and screams came from everywhere.

"Retreat!" Zaeed barked over the tactical channel. They needed to get out of the smoke, regroup, and—

Zaeed Massani, some young turk that looked wet behind the ears, fell besides him, a man-shaped shadow with a sword strapped to its arm looming over him. It moved on nearly instantly to its next kill, too quickly for Zaeed's Avenger shots to hit it. By some miracle, it had not noticed Zaeed Massani, who was now seriously considering shitting his pants. The Tactical HUD reported the deaths of more than half of his troops. This was not good, not good at all.

"Massani to base! Bogey and Hannibal are cutting us apart! Send reinforcements!"

Massani kept running, but never made it past the fog. The shadow had been saving this particular Massani for last, and as the grizzled mercenary finally made it past the smoke he saw the Bogey fly right up to the dropship and take it out with its beam gun. The craft caught on fire, its engines died, then crashed on the old Turian that believed he was a Terran by the name of Zaeed Massani.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>An onlooker might have said of Garrus Vakarian flying around in his modified Seraph power armor that he moved with the speed of a shuttle and the grace of an angel. That onlooker would have been wrong, for Garrus Vakarian had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He was randomly triggering his shoulder and leg mounted verniers at random, hoping the bullets flying at him would hit nothing but air.<p>

However, it only took him a moment to figure how to keep himself steady, and once that was accomplished he had the opportunity to try out the modified Longinus' charged shot on the Blacklight dropship. After half a second of charging, the purple lance of light pierced the heavily armored craft right through.

Garrus checked the modified power cell's status: that charged had left him with less than thirty percent capacity. Not surprising, considering he had been using the weapon's machine gun mode quite a bit before destroying that dropship.

While he had a space power pack (Smuggler jokingly called them C-mags because he basically stuck two OVO cans together, though Garrus did not quite get the joke), Garrus decided it would be best to preserve some power to mop up the troops on the floor.

There was a trio of mercs, two Salarians and an Asari, setting up a mortar, no doubt to destroy the fallen tram car and burn everyone in it. Garrus dipped low, switching the Longinus into sword mode, and took a swing at the head of the Salarian controlling the targeting console...

...And missed. The mortar crew fired at Garrus, forcing him to fly away, dodging and weaving around Avenger fire as the Salarian launched a round, and Garrus' eyes widened in horror before the cylinder simply hung in the air thanks to its mass effect field. Much to Garrus' relief, it was a targeting drone. He then heard the familiar roaring boom of Sasha shortly before the drone exploded, and smiled. Adam had shot it down.

"To hell with it!" said the Salarian in speech that Garrus' translator marked as English. "We're gonna eyeball it! Load up a Willie Pete!"

"Oh no you don't!" Remembering the signature move of Armiger Legion, Garrus dove in feet first, and his element zero core modulated itself to unleash a kinetic blast on landing.

The three mortar operators were blasted away and landed on their backs. Garrus finished the two Salarians by beheading them. The Asari, however, had risen to her feet, cursing something in English (again, very odd), and leveled her Avenger at him. The turian cop had expected her biotics to flare for the standard Warp and Shoot tactic, but she seemed far more intent on gunning him down.

A Mozambique Drill from his Mongoose pistol put an end to that plan.

Stomping behind him was a Jackal, driven by the last of the mercs. Out of the smoke surged both Adam and Hannibal, and they sliced its front legs apart. Before it could fall on its face, the Jackal rose on its hind legs, and tried to kick Adam away. Its belly (and thus the pilot) exposed, Garrus fired his thrusters and propelled himself at the weak spot, thrusting the Longinus' superheated Omni-Blade forward, burying it in armor, piercing metal then flesh.

The Jackal fell backwards from the force of Garrus' thrust, and the last of the mercenaries that Mey Leng had sent to torment Jensen was dead. The smoke cleared, revealing a field of fallen wrecks and bodies, with Garrus, Jensen, and Hannibal standing over them all, victorious.

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p>[Dead Space 3 Soundtrack — Lunar Express]<p>

Adam approached Garrus, and the Turian held out his arms in greeting. "So, Adam, is this going to be a thing? You getting surrounded, shot at, bombarded, and needing me to pull your ass out of the fire?"

Adam shook Garrus' hand, happy for the reinforcements. "Well, it's about time you pulled your weight in this partnership," Adam quipped as he pulled Garrus closer and grabbed his shoulder. His friend returned the brotherly gesture in kind. "It's good to see you again. Nice suit. Is that what you were working on for the past few days?"

"Ever since Caleston!" said the Turian cheerfully. He saw Hannibal walk up to him, growling. "Err... something wrong with your new pet, Adam?" Garrus had not been made aware that Hannibal was an artificial intelligence. As far as he knew, Hannibal was just a mech Hein had reprogrammed to obey the Durendal crew.

Adam sub-vocally spoke to Hannibal, who seemed to be... glowing a sickly red for some reason. "What's wrong?"

_**"TEMPLAR. KILL. TEMPLAR."**_

That, Adam decided, did not sound good at all._ "Calm down. Look at him. Look at his legs..."_

_**"...TURIAN."**_

_"Do you know of any Turian Templars?"_

The red glow faded. _**"...No."**_

_"Right, alien-haters, remember? This is Garrus Vakarian. He's my friend. He doesn't know about you and your brain, so... I hope you forgive __me__ for what I'm about to say."__  
><em>  
>"Down, boy!"<p>

Hannibal growled.

"I said, down!"

_**"...I will find some way to make you pay for this embarrassment, Jensen. But in the meantime..."**_

**"Woof."**

"That thing needs its IFF subroutines double-checked," said Garrus, relaxing his guard.

Just then, the ice sheet began to crack beneath their feet. Adam looked at the Tram car, and Bakara trying to get the children out before the sheet gave way, and allowed the ice cold water to claim them.

"The children!" Adam darted off, with Hannibal and Garrus following right behind him. An entire section of the sheet shifted, threatening to make Adam fall into the ice. It was actually a bit of good fortune, as it allowed Adam to slide down and gain momentum for his dash.

Using his plasma jets, Garrus tried to keep the car from falling into the water.

"Look, Baba! An Angel!" said the gill-eyed child happily as Bakara handed her over to Adam. Most of the children were okay, despite a few cuts and bruises. One among them, however, had a sprained ankle, while another had a broken knee. Montblanc, Sandal and Kurt were the last to get out.

"Everyone!" shouted Adam as he grabbed the two injured children. "Head for the tracks!" The sheet buckled and shifted. "Hurry!"

The children that Bakara, Adam, Hannibal and Garrus could not carry ran for their lives. Bakara jogged behind the tiny, desperate group, making sure all of them were accounted for.

The other two adults and the mech ran ahead, dropped the children they were carrying on firmer ground, and returned for the rest. Another trip later, they were almost all safe, but then the ice under Bakara's feet parted and she fell into the water. She held up the children she carried away from the water, knowing that the shock of ice cold water would put them to sleep and make them drown.

Adam's response was immediate: He Zero-Shifted towards the scene and pulled the children out. Hannibal and Garrus were right behind him, and took the children to solid ground as Adam pulled Bakara out of the water.

"That's another I owe you!" she shouted, grateful, but shivering.

"We're not out of trouble yet!"

Bakara ran towards the track, with Adam following close behind her even as the ice fractured into tiny islands under their feet.

Once they reached safety, they both fell on their knees, breathing hard out of exhaustion. Adam sat down near the tracks after doing a headcount. By some miracle, all the children had survived. Some were crying, some were hurt, and they would have nightmares about this day for years... but they were alive. Montblanc tended to the wounded after ensuring that Sandal was alright. Adam heard the distant roar of the Copperhead's engines, and he let out a sigh of relief. Soon the kids would be safe.

"That was awesome!" shouted Kurt, completely oblivious to the pain around him. "When I grow up, I'm gonna be just like you guys!"

"Kid, I wouldn't wish this life on anyone," said Jensen, feeling tired and kind of old in the face of Kurt's youthful energy.

"Aw, come on." Garrus patted Adam on the back. "We saved those kids. We're heroes!"

Adam looked at the shattered ice where he had just fought. The corpses of the mercs were well underwater by now. He told himself that they had brought this on themselves, that they tried to kill kids.

But he suspected that they, too, had been innocents in this mess. They all spoke English, fought with the same tactics, the same weapons. They were incredibly well coordinated, too, as if one knew what the other was thinking. Had they been chipped? Did they voluntarily have the contents of the mind of a remorseless killer downloaded into their brains? Or had they been forced into this?

Adam sighed. Regardless, it was either them or the kids. And between an armed puppet and a harmless child, Adam had no qualms about killing the puppet.

"Yeah, we're heroes," said Adam, disquiet in his heart.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Gentlemen!"<em> said Neil over the Radio as the Copperhead landed nearby. _"Welcome to Highwind Airlines! Please board in an orderly fashion and follow our lovely stewardess' instructions to the letter. Seriously, she has a gun."_

"Stewardess?" asked Adam out loud.

"Brea," replied Garrus.

"What is she doing here?"

"Eh, I think she said something about you getting sidetracked."

"Oh? And what exactly does she plan to do about it?"

"No idea. Maybe she's going to cross her arms and give you a mean look?"

Adam and Garrus helped Bakara in and secured her on the floor, since the children had taken all the available seats. Two of the smaller ones had to share, while Montblanc would have to be seated on Sandal's knees, embarrassingly enough.

Brea stood in the passenger cabin's corner, watching intently, her arms crossed, her expression obscured by the shadow cast by her white parka's fur-trimmed hood.

"I get it," said Adam, as he strapped a cold, shivering, half-conscious Bakara to the floor, since none of the seats were big enough for her. Garrus tucked a heat pack under her arm. "I got sidetracked again."

Brea said nothing, and eyed the children.

"Is Baba gonna be okay?" asked the child with the fingers growing out of her head.

"Yeah, she's gonna be okay. She just needs some warm soup and she'll be right as rain..."

"So uh, 'Shadow'?" asked Neil from the cockpit. "I'm ready to go when you are? Of course, I could always fly you to where you were headed, first?"

"No," said Adam as he restocked on ration bars. "We'll go the rest of the way on foot. The sooner you leave, the better."

"Roger that."

"Alright, kids," said Garrus, eating up the kids' admiration of his larger than life persona straight out of a cartoon. "Me and Shadow have to leave now, so you behave, okay?"

As Adam and Garrus stepped out to rejoin Hannibal, Brea walked over to each child, one by one, until she came across Kurt, who, despite being only ten, was quite aware of the difference between girls and boys, and he leered comically at Brea's figure.

"Wow! You're like... like... vavoom!"

Brea said nothing as she leveled her modified pistol at his head and pulled the trigger.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A shot rang out from the landing ramp, and the children screamed in unison, making Adam and Garrus turn in surprise and fright. What was more surprising was little Kurt running out of the Copperhead, covering a bloody eye. Both Adam and Garrus were so confused by what happened that they made no attempt to stop the boy, who was now running across the snow with surprising speed.<p>

"Stop him!" screamed Brea as she stepped out of the craft.

"What the— What the hell is going on, here, Brea?!"

Brea looked on both Adam and Garrus with contempt for their lack of initiative or obedience and took aim at Kurt, ready to fire a cluster of tungsten pellets at his head.

Adam's reaction to that was quite immediate, as he put her arm in a lock and broke her wrist, forcing her to let go of the weapon.

"I can't believe this — that's a CHILD!" Adam roared, furious, while Garrus went after the boy.

"It's not a child, you fool!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal pursued the fleeing child. The chase did not last long, despite the child's haste. The mech jumped and landed right in front of the boy, and the cold wind carried with it the scent of his blood from that head wound. A head wound Kurt should not have survived. It occurred to Hannibal then that of all the children, Kurt seemed the luckiest. He should have been hurt on the skyway, hurt when the tram car was shot at, hurt when it was toppled over by an explosion.<p>

And most importantly of all, the blood smelled _wrong. _Hannibal growled.

Garrus landed behind Kurt. "Hey, kid, come on—"

**"Stay back!"**

"You can talk?! You're... you're an..." Garrus moved in to protect the boy from what he perceived as the real threat.

**"I said stay back!"**

"Do as he says!" ordered Brea as she approached from behind Garrus. Adam was just behind her, nodding at him. Garrus had no idea as to what was going on, but trusted Adam's judgement. After all, he had been here a lot longer...

They surrounded Kurt, and Garrus moved around him, trying to get a good look at what he was trying to hide. The boy looked at him, terrified...

Out of the one eye that had not been destroyed.

Kurt's fingers began to stretch and bend out of proportion, their bones stretching past the nails. Stalks came out of the bullet hole in his skull, a small eye on each tip. His mouth opened, and an inhuman wail rang out of it, as a tear streamed down from the intact eye.

"Spirits... What the hell is that?"

**"A 'Weeper'... a more advanced breed, apparently."**

Kurt wept, staring at Adam. His wails died down, slowly, and he made throaty, croaking sounds that barely sounded like words.

"I wwwwaaaaaant to beeeee liiIIIIKe YoooUUU"

As soon as he said that, Kurt's body morphed into a warped imitation of Adam, Garrus, and Hannibal... complete with a bony sword tail.

"Back away!" said Garrus as he aimed his particle gun at the creature. "It's going to attack!"

"Hold your fire!" barked Adam, still unable to see the creature as anything else but an innocent boy. A mutated boy, but a boy nonetheless. "All of you, calm the hell down!"

"We have to kill it!" shouted Brea. She looked at Adam, and Garrus, and knew that they would not do it. "Hannibal! I command you to—"

**"No."**

"What."

**"I do not take commands from you, nor will I murder a child. The child has not attacked me, nor**** h****as he attacked the other children."**

Adam felt horror crawl over his skull. "Are the other children...?"

"No, they're clean, as far as I can tell."

"Wait, how can you even tell?" asked Garrus. "Could somebody explain what the FUCK is going on, here?"

Brea ignored him. "That is NOT an option! Each cell in his body is a danger to everyone on this planet!"

_"Guys? I don't know what the little pow-wow is about out there but could you hurry up BECAUSE I HAVE TEN RED BLIPS ON MY RADAR!"_

"And there's no time for me to explain!" added Brea. "I've got an Incinerate program ready. Just say the word and I—"

"Oh, so it's up to me, now?!" barked Adam, disgusted at what she was suggesting.

**"Wait, we can freeze Kurt with a Cryo Blast and bring him to the Durendal!"**

"Whoa, wait! You want to bring a potential biohazard disaster onto a SPACESHIP?!" Garrus was aghast. "You're nuts! Adam, Brea is right! Destroying it is the only way to be sure!"

**"HE IS NOT AN IT!" **roared Hannibal in fury. **"AND HE DID NOT ASK TO BE BORN FOR WHATEVER PURPOSE EG HAD FOR HIM!"**

"Think you could pull the trigger, Garrus?" challenged Adam. "Think you could kill a child?"

"It's not a child, Adam, I mean, look at it..." Garrus took another look at Kurt, who still had not made a move to attack, waiting for the four of them to decide his fate.

"Wheeeeen... GrOW...uP?"

When Garrus could no longer meet Kurt's freakish gaze, Adam had his answer. "No, I didn't think so."

"Somebody has to!" Brea insisted.

**"You can't! I won't allow it!"**

"Enough!" shouted Adam as he grabbed the boy by the arm, and Zero-Shifted away, far away and out of sight of the rest of the group. Then, he let Kurt go, who looked at him in bewilderment.

There were too many unknowns about Kurt, and too little time to debate. Adam pulled out Sasha, and Kurt looked at him with terror.

"...Get out of here," Adam said out loud, the channel open to the Copperhead and to Hannibal. "Now." He fired Sasha into the air, and when that did not get the reaction out of Kurt that he expected, he shouted. "I SAID GO! NOW!"

_"Hey, you don't have to shout, you __j__erk!" _said Neil. _"Taking off!"_

Kurt finally got the picture and ran further and further into the snowstorm. He looked back at Adam, with an unreadable look on his face. Was he thankful? Was it glee at pulling the wool over Adam's eyes? The cyborg cop had no idea.

Hannibal had a point: he could not judge a creature deserving of death simply for being what it was, just because it might be dangerous.

But so did Brea. There was no telling what Kurt could do, what kind of damage he could do once he was loose in the entire galaxy. He could be the end of it. He could be its salvation.

Until Adam knew for certain, Kurt would be staying right here on Noveria. It was mercy, but a cruel one. The weather was not exactly pleasant at the moment, after all.

Kurt walked further into the storm, vanishing out of sight.

Adam looked at the silhouette of the Copperhead and smiled. 'Administrator' Bakara was no doubt sound asleep from the huge dose of tranquilizers he had given her when he strapped her down. She had asked him too many questions about the Copperhead's capabilities. It was probably for nothing, but if she planned to kill Neil and escape with her test subjects, that plan was throroughly ruined. Even if she woke right this second, she would be too groggy for hours to put much of a fight.

Adam tried to be a good man. Brea and Bakara no doubt thought that made him stupid. Easy to manipulate. How wrong they were.

Thinking back on Kurt, Adam had to wonder why EG created him, and why Brea seemed so hellbent on his death. The answers awaited him in the bio-labs, no doubt.

Adam rejoined the rest of the group. "It's been dealt with," he said, "and that's the last I want to hear of it for now. We have a job to do. Let's go."

Garrus sighed, not looking forward to a walk in the sub-zero cold and wind. He figured that after that encounter with the mercs and bomb of moral ambiguity Brea had dropped into their collective lap, this mission could not get much worse.

He was quickly proven wrong when the Krogan drop pods began to drop out of the sky.

"...Oh, shit."

_**~[h+]~**_


	43. Chapter 39: The Battle Of Noveria Part 3

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

**Mass Effect: Human Revolution**

_**Chapter 39: The Battle of Noveria part 3**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Spell check by WarpObscura**_

_**French translations can be found at the end of the page.**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Acheron Control to all fighters, Geth fleet is on the move, repeat, Geth fleet is on the move... I repeat..."<em>

"Oh, no..." muttered Tali in the rear seat of the cockpit, anxious now that the battle would soon be going full swing. She had only just familiarized herself with the odd weapons system of the Astraea and written a driver to make it compatible with Geth technology. Of course, there was no way to know if it would actually work until Elsa flew the craft right up to a Geth fighter and punched through its hull with the craft's mechanical arm. Not likely to happen any time soon, since it was clasping a rotary machine gun at the moment.

Assuming they did not shoot it down, first. Tali wondered how 'live-fire beta testing' would look on her resumé. By the homeworld, would she have tales to tell aunt Shala... all gathered in just over a week, too!

Assuming, again, that she lived through this. Tali gulped.

"Hold on a minute..." said Elsa, fiddling with the sensor suite.

"What is it?"

"Something's wrong." Elsa switched on her radio. "Drake 1 to Acheron?"

_"Acheron Control to Drake 1, we hear you."_

"The Krogan battle barge is launching pods by the hundreds! I repeat—"

Just then, on her IMREC display, the barge became wracked with a few explosions across its hull.

"The Deep Eyes!" muttered Tali, knowing that this was their handiwork.

"Drake 1 to Acheron, the Battle Barge is... it's been sabotaged! It's dead in the water!"

_"Acheron to Drake 1, we confirm. Your orders are to engage a wing of fighters approaching—"_

Suddenly, a Fiera's voice rang out on the distress channel. _"This is Freelancer Corvette Mistral! We have hostiles on our tail and a VIP in the hold we need—__" _The pilot's voice dissolved into static. Elsa checked the sensors: The Mistral had indeed pulled away from the barge, but was prevented from accelerating away by being forced to avoid gunfire, missiles, and the occasional laser. That Fiera pilot was good, very good, but she could only evade fire from hundreds of ships for so long.

And another of her comrades would die.

"Drake 1 to Acheron, I'm moving in to engage!"

_"Acheron to Drake 1, do not—"_

Elsa cut off the channel and set the throttle to maximum. She then brought up something on her haptic interface, an audio file courtesy of Taggart. 'Classical Scottish music', he had called it. She had half-expected some mournful bagpipes.

Instead, a vintage piece of Synthpop came on. Elsa chuckled and shrugged. "Ouais. Je peux travailler avec ça... Zorah? Hold on, we're going in for a rescue..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the communication station, Ensign Traynor shook her head. "She's not responding!"<p>

"She's going full burn straight at the Geth fleet!" reported the sailor manning the sensor station.

"Bordel!" swore captain Ségal, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Traynor! Call the Flying Tigers, and tell them to intercept those fighters immediately! Scramble our Broadsword bomber wings and have them take out those Geth frigates!"

"Aye-aye!"

Hein, who had been invited to the Acheron's bridge to advise on any sort of technological weirdness the Geth might throw at them, stood there with a smirk on his face, no doubt thinking Ségal a weak fool that could not keep his ace pilot under control. "Quite the renegade, isn't she?" said the American.

"She gets results." That was what Ségal always said, but by God did Elsa test him so.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Bau!" screamed Mjrn as she forced the Mistral into acrobatics that would have broken a lesser ship, all the while thinking about her son, relatively safe in the Acheron... which would no doubt come under attack soon. "I swear to you, if I don't make it out of this WAR you dragged me into, I will find you in the Farplane and haunt your every moment for all ETERNITY!"<p>

Bau, an atheist, was not all that worried. "Duly noted! Now get us out of here!"

"I'm trying!"

"Geth fighters, five o'clock high!" barked Vega at one of the gunnery stations. He was instantly reminded of the Mistral's daring escape from Freeport. He was on this very station, firing on any Geth that got too close. "Jenkins, you got him?!"

"Almost... almost..." The young marine fired off a burst of blue energy pulses that went wide. "Damn! I need you to hold her steady!"

"If I hold her steady we ALL DIE!" barked the pilot.

"I got three more on our four o'clock!" shouted Vega. "Damnit, I can't hit them either!"

"And I've got six more and... oh no, one of the Geth frigates is coming in hot at full thrust!"

Bau closed his eyes. Once the Frigate was close enough, it would unleash a full barrage that would destroy them all. At that point, Bau wished he was not an atheist. He could have used something to look forward to right then and there.

"Another Bogey, coming in from our twelve o'clock!" reported Vega. "It's..."

[Chvrches - Science and Visions]

_**"Another Geth, we know!"**_

"Nah..." Vega smiled. "It's God's own angel of retribution, coming out of heaven to cast the Devil's own back down to hell!"

And then three of the Geth fighters exploded.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa's eyes were closed, waiting patiently for the Geth fighters to be within effective firing range. She took deep, controlled breaths, just like her mother had shown her. In. Out. In. Out...<p>

Then the Geth came within range, and Elsa's eyes suddenly opened wide. The Vulcan roared bullets, destroying her enemies in less than a second. The helmet transmitted their destruction directly into her brain, without any static, and Elsa knew that whatever Europa Genomics had done, it had fixed her right up. She was certain she wasn't going to need Drive for this fight.

Her eyes narrowed on the rest of the Geth fighters harassing the Mistral. She squeezed the trigger, and the Vulcan spat out a stream of bullets at them. They ripped right through their shields, and their hulls were as paper to the tungsten core rounds.

Whoops of joy came over the distress channel. _"Mistral to... whoever just saved us, you couldn't have come at a better time! How did you get past the other ships in the fleet?"_

"Mistral, this is Drake 1... There were a couple in the way. They aren't any more. Is Taggart on-board? Is he alright?"

_"Surly blonde fella? Yeah, he's fine! Look, we still have a frigate incoming, and the Mistral's capacitors need some time to recharge so that we can go full __thrust__!"_ The Fiera pilot was hopeful, but still desperate.

"How long do you need?"

_"... four minutes."_

There was no hesitation in Elsa's voice when she replied. "You've got it."

"Uh, Elsa, I'm taking a peek at your sensors..." muttered Tali, nervous as a mouse. "There's fifty Geth fighters going in to cover that frigate with the many, MANY guns and eep!"

Elsa ignored the Quarian as she flew right into the Geth formation.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>To the Geth, probabilities were everything, and probabilities could be shifted in their favor through sheer numbers. The European elite fighters had been a... statistical anomaly for countless cycles, but thanks to UrdnotWarlord's latest capture, they had a better understanding of the machine's capabilities. The Geth had already hybridized the Terran fighter with their own designs, and a full development cycle would be reaching its end in an hour. Their bases in the Perseus Veil would be mass producing the Hybrids en masse.

In the meantime, they had adjusted their tactics against the Endymion for their current generation of craft. Considering their vast numbers against it, they calculated a 99.23 percent probability of the lone terran fighter's destruction within the next minute.

That probability came down to 50 percent within 20 seconds.

The Geth could not build a Consensus as to why they could not keep enough of their firepower on target long enough to destroy it. It seemed to be firing its powerful verniers, verniers so powerful they emitted a stream as large as the craft itself, at random... and their random number generators tried to compensate for that, but to no avail.

Lasers. Pulse Bombs. Missiles. _Nothing worked._ Meanwhile, the super-fighter destroyed their fighters with little else than machine gun fire.

All they could do was throw more fighters at it. The Frigate reported that its large secondary machine gun had been disposed of, having run out of ammo. They recalculated the probabilities. Success was at hand.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa let the Astraea slide under its own inertia, turned around, and fired on the incoming missiles. The 20mm hyper-velocity rounds tore through the ordnance and found their way to the fighters that had launched them. The Vulcan reported its magazine was empty. Elsa disengaged the gunpod, then without a second thought flew straight at the Geth frigate about to fire its main gun at the Mistral.<p>

"WE CAN'T TAKE THAT FRIGATE ARE YOU CRAZY?!" screamed Tali, who had made the terrible mistake of tapping into the fighter's IMREC systems.

"Oh que si, je peux."

Elsa activated the Omni-Blade on the lower Arm, and weaved around the Frigate's defensive fire. She spun the ship near a medium gun turret, slicing it off, flew away, then went back to grab the severed weapon.

"Do your thing," Elsa commanded.

Tali focused on getting the Omni-Gel conduits in all the right spots to override the Geth programs still present in the hardware. In a matter of seconds, they had been erased and a entirely new fire control system had grown almost organically inside the Geth shell.

"Done! The weapon's all yours!"

Elsa proceeded to make a strafing run at the frigate, battering its shields, then its hull with its own weapon. Its primary reactor exploded in a bright conflagration, and Elsa dumped the weapon just as she went full throttle to ride the shockwave.

"Oh, Keelah..." muttered Tali as her seat rumbled. She hoped she would not get addicted to the high of adrenaline that was now coursing through her veins.

Elsa approached the Fiera ship and flew on its wing. "Drake to Mistral, how much..."

The Astraea lurched as its mass effect field's effectiveness was reduced. A Geth Corvette, the same that had attacked Zoller and Taggart, decloaked right next to them.

_"HAHAHAHA!" _Wreav's booming, vicious laughter rang in Elsa's ear. _"This has worked out better than expected! I was disappointed when the pilot I captured turned out to be some old burnout, but who comes to his rescue but the Angel herself!"_

The French pilot increased the output of the Astraea's element zero core to compensate for the inhibitor field, just in time to evade a swarm of drones launched by the corvette. She focused on destroying those that attacked the Fiera ship while evading the weapons fire aimed at her. More Geth fighters came to Wreav's assistance, and Elsa destroyed them save one, which she grabbed and used as a shield against Wreav's considerable firepower. Tali had to override the Geth's control on the hijacked craft, using its own drive core to delay the inevitable.

_"Do you know what I'm going to do to you when your core gives out? I'm going to take you, then cut of__f__ your arms and legs. I will mount you as a trophy, girl, on a spiked harness made out __of__ rusty iron! The perfect gift for Saren! A testament to human FAILURE!"_

Elsa kept destroying the drones, tuning out the Krogan's taunts. Eventually, it was down to just her and Wreav's personal ship, which had an impressive array of weapons on its own. Its volley guns kept her from getting a proper lock with her missiles.

The core was getting saturated. Soon, it would dump its charge throughout the fighter and Elsa, along with Tali, would be as good as dead.

_"We found your Krantt's war machine. This... Hayha... he was still alive."_

_No._

_"Saren interrogated him on a... variety of subjects. He did not resist long."_

_He's lying. Don't listen to him._

_"When it was over, he was covered in his own shit and blood, and he let out a whimper LIKE THE DOG HE WAS!"_

Cold fury tingled across Elsa's brain. She activated the Arm's Omni-Blade.

"...I am going to _**kill you**_, Wreav."

_"I want you to try! This dance bores—"_

The Astraea flew in a chaotic pattern of Vernier blasts at Wreav's corvette, narrowly avoiding a cluster of metal fired at it. It sank the Omni-Blade deep into the hull, and Tali turned it into a multitude of conduits that crawled over every major component of the Geth heavy craft. The Astraea's core, over-saturated with its electric charge, dumped it into the conduits.

Wreav was dead in the water. Elsa's fury went blazing hot as she anticipated what was to come.

"I AM GOING TO **KILL YOU!**" She used the Arm to tear open the Corvette's cockpit, intent on crushing the Krogan inside of it.

Only two Geth humanoid platforms floated out, helpless. Wreav was not inside, and had never been.

"Espèce de FUMIER!" Elsa slammed her fist on her dashboard, furious.

_"Mistral to Drake! We're going full throttle and getting the hell out of here! We've got more Geth incoming!"_

"Elsa," reported Tali. "The Primary OVO Cell is at twelve percent. We can't fight any longer, let's go!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In his own Drop pod, Wreav smirked. He was not stupid, was not going to gamble away the glory that was to come on some dogfight with a <em>woman.<em>

He looked out of the viewport: The Geth had assured him that no harm would come to the Vanguard's pods as they fell through the atmosphere. Wreav was doubtful. Their ace had proven herself a capable killing machine, and would have torn through every pod by herself.

When the Fiera craft had docked on the battle barge, Wreav immediately knew that they came to rescue the prisoner, who bore the same _Krantt_ markings worn by Hayha. He let them succeed. He let them escape. He suspected that this 'Angel' would come to the prisoner's rescue, ignoring everything else.

He was right. Saren had taught him well, about human sentimentality... and how it was a weakness to be exploited.

The damage to the Drogo could be repaired. Its greatest payload had already been delivered. Soon, the humans of Dosadi would know the terror of the Krogan horde.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Acheron's main landing bay, an immense enclosed space that ran the entire length of the ship, Hein waited for the Mistral to land. His Deep Eyes had successfully rescued Taggart from Wreav's clutches, but had taken the time — far too much time — to sabotage the Krogan Warlord's ship. As much as he personally enjoyed blowing stuff up, he wondered what Grey's reasoning was for getting sidetracked like that. He suspected Bau had something to do with it.<p>

The sleek and deceptively spacious Mistral came in for a landing, along with the Astraea Einhander fighter. The thick, armored bay doors closed behind them, and once the forcefields that locked the ship's breathable air in dropped, crews scrambled around the vessels to check on damage and provide fuel.

The rescue team disembarked from the Fiera craft, and the Deep Eyes among them came up to Hein and saluted. Hein half-heartedly saluted back.

"Mission successful, sir. No casualties," reported Grey, somewhat happily.

Hein looked past Grey to see a little blonde woman pulling a husky Scotsman into a heartfelt hug.

"I see. Anything else to report? I assume there is something else, seeing as Mrs. Devereaux had to pull your ass out of the fire and the Drogo is dead in the water?"

"Yes, we successfully prevented Wreav from bombarding Noveria from orbit. We set charges in the ship's gun control, ammunition storage, main engineering, and the drop pod bay. We... we weren't successful with that last one: we were spotted and..."

"...And wound up triggering a small-scale invasion of Noveria."

Grey looked down, feeling ashamed. "We _had_ to try and stop it, sir." He lifted his head, his composure regained. "I recommend that the Acheron attack right away: the more time we waste the more likely? the Drogo comes back online and then we'll have a Grey Goo incident on our hands."

Hein just stared at the soldier. "...Excuse me?"

"Upon securing him, Lieutenant Taggart reported that he reverse-interrogated the Krogan Warlord. Apparently the Kroc bragged that Saren found a way to weaponize the nanotech they used on Eden Prime, and that he had the prototype."

"...And you assumed that he would just... shoot the spikes out of a gun," Hein said, a bit disingenuously.

"Well, seeing as we saw plenty of similar spikes like the ones back on Caleston, it was a pretty good assumption to make."

Hein nodded. "I see. And that's how Taggart roped you in, eh?"

"Yes. Sir? Permission to aid in the defense of Dosadi? Those Kroc boots wouldn't be hitting the ground if we had succeeded."

"... succeeded in an utterly pointless distraction, yes."

"...What?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing... I'll speak with the good captain and see if I can get you on one of their dropships. You're dismissed."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Lieutenant Devereaux please report to the Bridge, Lieutenant Devereaux please report to the Bridge ASAP."<em>

"I have to go," said Elsa.

"No doubt to reprimand ye for that stunt."

"...Don't tell me you're going to berate me for that as well?"

"Seeing as I bloody benefited from that stunt, that would be highly hypocritical of me, no?" He chuckled. "Just remember that he can't afford to put you in the brig right now. Go, I shouldn't hold ye up."

Elsa excused herself, and once she was away, Hein approached his old friend...

"Ah, Hein, that reminds—"

...And then clocked him in the face. Taggart fell on his backside, wiped the blood on his mouth, and gave Hein a vicious look as he got back up. He stopped the engineers on deck from calling security with a gesture. "The first one's free, yank, but the next one will cost ye."

"You MORON!" shouted Hein. "You dragged my men into a suicide mission for NOTHING!"

"He had nanotech based weapons loaded on his ship! They had to be destroyed!"

"He was BLUFFING, you dipshit!"

"I couldn't take that chance! I couldn't allow Noveria to be converted into a ball of silver!"

"Oh for— NANOMACHINES! DO NOT! WORK THAT WAY! Where's the ridiculous amount of energy for that to happen supposed to come from, hm? Or the unimaginable processing power needed to coordinate trillions of the little buggers?!"

"Oh and I suppose the lands ravaged by the nanite swells, those are bloody fairy tales?"

"And these were easily stopped by flamethrowers! Hell, boiling water can stop a nanite swell!"

Taggart shook his head. What Hein was saying flew in the face of conventional wisdom. Nothing less than a fusion charge could deal with a nanite swell, everyone knew that. "...Ye're daft, bloody daft." Taggart said as he walked away. "Get out of me way, I have to report to the captain."

"If you so much as breathe the word nanomachines at him, you'll play right into the Krogan's hands."

Taggart stopped. "...That may be true."

"People on Dosadi will die."

"Everyone on Noveria will die if we don't make sure." And Taggart walked away.

Hein shook his head. Fear. Fear would be the prime motivator in the stupidity that was to come.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Everyone, listen to me. I am the most knowledgeable person you can consult on nanomachines. Shooting a munition loaded with the stuff only makes for a very expensive bullet filled with liquid. The friction from re-entry alone would cook the nanites inside, and the impact would destroy the central computer necessary to—"<p>

Ségal interrupted Hein's fantasy that nanomachines were not capable of interlinked processing power, and were vulnerable to something as banal as _boiling __water. _Every school child knew exactly what nanomachines were capable of, and every high-ranking military officer knew what he had to do when encountering the stuff. "Enough. The decision is made, the orders were given. In a few minutes the bombers will be launched and the Acheron will be throwing everything we've got at the Barge and its escorts."

"Persmission to speak?" asked Grey, raising his hand. Ségal nodded at him. "As much as I understand the need to deal with the nanomachines swiftly..."

He pointed at the holographic display at the center of the Acheron's bridge, illuminated solely by displays. It was a miniature representation of the battle at Dosadi. The drop pods had landed all around the three defensive gun towers that protected the pyramid from orbital attacks. Their lasers took out maybe 100 out of the 1300 pods that were launched, which was nowhere near enough to stop the attack. All three towers were now being assaulted by Krogan shock troopers.

"...Shouldn't we send reinforcements? The SSC are rent-a-cops, not soldiers. They won't last."

Ségal shook his head. "They'll have to. The Barge must be completely destroyed, first. After that, we can refocus our efforts into taking out the Geth's aerospace superiority, then dropping in."

"...That's going to take a lot of time. Way too much time."

"Hours," said Elsa.

"I am aware, yes. But protocol concerning nanites must be followed at all costs."

"We destroyed the payload!" protested Grey.

"All of it?" countered Ségal. "Are you 100 percent certain that there isn't a single nanite aboard that ship?"

"...No," said Grey, finally.

"There you have. Gentlemen, my patience is wearing thin and arguing this is pointless. If you can't provide me information that doesn't fly in the face of conventional wisdom, Hein, then you and your men are no longer welcome. You know the way out, unless you need an escort?" Ségal said the last part meaningfully. He was kicking them out.

As the Americans left, Bau simply watched. Ségal glared at him. "Is there something else?"

"I'm glad to see that Europe is not underestimating the threat of nanomachines. Still, seeing as the situation is under your control, I don't suppose you can spare an escort?"

"For what?"

"I plan on making another attempt at capturing Wreav. Taking him out of the picture might buy the defenders of Dosadi some time."

"Denied," said Ségal flatly.

"I see. Very well, I won't insist."

The Salarian took his leave, and now it was just Ségal and Devereaux at the holo table.

"Tu as tes ordres," said the captain.

Elsa glared at him some more, then, finally, she spoke. "I peine dix minutes, tu m'avais reprimandé pour avoir ignoré les cosses orbitales pour sauver Taggart—"

"— Je t'ai reprimandé pour m'avoir désobei!"

"—Et maintenant que c'est le temps de venir au secours des 'millions de gens que j'ai mis en danger', tu veux que j'aille attaquer un navire troué qui peux à peine maintenir son orbite! C'est quoi, la logique? Parce que moi? J'ai du mal à la voir."

Ségal looked at the young woman. At 32, and being raised in Bordeaux, she was far too young to even recall the horrors of nanite swells that had plagued Europe for centuries. At 5, Ségal himself had borne witness to men, women, and children slowly being eaten alive by a plague, born out of alien black pods that sprung from barren lands. Nanite swells had been, at the time, the worst thing he ever saw. Then in the 6th grade, he was told that they could do so much worse. The lesson was learned.

Elsa had been told the same thing, but as he looked in her eyes, Ségal found a look that said that she could never, ever understand the horror.

"Écoute," she continued, trying to be reasonable, "Je sais que les nanites peuvent causer un fléau, mais les Krogans vont faire des choses horribles à ces civils! On doit les arrêter et tout de suite!"

"Ce que les Krogans peuvent faire à ces gens n'est RIEN comparé à ce faire devorer vivant par une multitude de machines, et c'est exactement ce qu'il va leur arriver si on laisse le Drogo se reparer. Lieutenant, je commence à en avoir assez qu'on doute de mes ordres sur MON vaisseau. Allez preparer vos hommes, et maintenant!"

Elsa gave a quick salute, and left.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"All crew to Battle Stations, all crew to battlestations. All Broadsword pilots scramble, repeat, all Broadsword pilots scramble..."<em>

In one of the Acheron's many metal halls, Hein and Grey had quickened their steps to make way to the landing bay.

"I can't believe you tried to downplay the nanomachine threat," said Grey, forgetting their ranks.

"Oh, please." Hein rolled his eyes.

"Sir, the devastation alone..."

Hein stopped at the elevator and looked Grey straight in the eye. "I am aware, more than _anyone_, as to what nanomachines can do, Grey. I am also aware of their limitations. If Saren could deploy that kind of weapon he would have done so on Eden Prime."

"Well, he definitely has nanites at his disposal, if what we found on Caleston is any indication..." The more Grey thought about it, the more it did not make sense... Why the spikes? From what he heard at school, a nanite cloud would have converted everyone on Eden Prime into Husks in moments. "So why _didn't_ he deploy a nano-bomb on Eden Prime?"

"Because it's not practical! Look, you need 4 things to make a nanite-based city buster: One, at least 400 liters of nanites, half of that disassemblers, the other half replicators, to get the ball started. Two, a sensor system capable of cataloging every atom in the city for disassembly. Three, a computer capable of processing the unimaginable amount of data. And four, and this is really important: you need a power source for all of the above."

"...Damn, by the sound of that, nukes are cheaper."

"And far more unstoppable. Once a nuke blows everyone within range is fucked. You take out 3 or 4 while the nano-bomb is doing its thing, then you've effectively stopped the disaster."

"But you could, in theory, set it to destroy or convert only people."

"Yes, but again, there are cheaper, more plentiful alternatives: Gamma bombs. Viral agents. Black Gas."

"Alright, let's assume Wreav lied. Why the deception?"

"Fear, Grey. Fear is worse than any virus, because everyone is more than willing to inflict it on another. It's the greatest weapon the enemy will use against you. Look at Ségal. See how it's worked out."

"He seemed pretty calm and collected."

"He's not! He's scared out of his mind! His strategy is to rush a wreck while the Geth overwhelm Noveria's defenses on the surface. It's a dumb move, the plan of a desperate man."

"I happen to agree," said Bau, approaching the pair. "As much as the threat of nanomachines is... disconcerting, Wreav's invasion of Dosadi is a far more pressing threat."

"Are you planning to do something about it?" asked Grey.

"Indeed. I am going to capture Wreav or, failing that, rally the defense of Dosadi. I was wondering if you would like to join me?"

"Yes," said Elsa from behind Bau, surprising everyone. "But first, I need to speak with you."

Then, finally, the elevator arrived.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Drake 1 is ready to launch. Repeat, Drake 1 is ready to launch."<em>

The elevator opened to the landing bay, and Mjrn came out, fuming, her strides towards her ship quick. Both Grey and Bau had to jog to keep up with her.

"You must be out of your mind," she said. She had just finished speaking with her son, reassuring him that he could come back on board the Mistral — their home. She was not exactly pleased when Bau came along and made a liar out of her.

"Your ship can handle far more than 40 tons," said Bau.

"That's not the point!" Mjrn shot back. "You're asking me to fly you right into danger — again! I swear, if you didn't have my cargo—"

"OUR cargo," reminded Bau.

"Then I would have cut and run as soon as the Geth showed up," she sighed. "Look... just promise me something? If I don't make it... look after my son, will you?"

"It's the least I can do," said Bau. "I promise."

Mjrn did not like this Salarian. She found his species kind of hard to read. "...Okay. Let's do this."

As the trio approached the Mistral, Grey barked orders at Proudfoot and Whitaker, and by virtue of being within earshot, Jenkins and Vega. "Alright, ladies! Put your lunchboxes away! We're going down to Dosadi and aid in its defense! Suit up, double check your gear! We leave in ten minutes!"

Bau had to admit, he envied soldiers like Grey. The human was born to lead, while Bau had not exactly managed to inspire loyalty in his own followers. Mjrn was not exactly happy with Bau, and Wrex and Bren barely acknowledged him as he approached.

"You sure you're up for this?" asked Wrex.

Bren let out a rumbling chuckle. "Wrex, I'm certain you've noticed, but I like a good fight as much as you do!"

"Pay's probably gonna suck."

"I've gathered as much coin as I require. Still, when I return on Amaethon, I want my tall tales of heroism to have a... _small hint_ of truth to them, you know?" He winked, smiling. "Picture it! Brenin Tymestl, standing tall and alone against many, saviour of millions of helpless little humans!"

"Are you two ready to go?" interrupted Bau.

Bren's mood took a bit of a dive, but he remained courteous and professional. "I am."

Bau turned to Wrex, who replied with a huff. "Just so we're clear..."

"The bounty for bringing in a war criminal like Wreav into custody is considerable, Urdnot. It could also go a long way to increasing your status with C-Sec and—"

"Save it," dismissed Wrex. "I'm doing this for a ride on the Mistral, that's all. Wreav and I... we got history. Putting him in irons and letting you Salarians have their way with him will be a sweeter revenge than just killing him."

"...I see." He motioned the two mercenaries to board the ship. Now, he hoped Devereaux would do her part. Supporting Dosadi's defenders would be far more difficult without her.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Someone climbed into the Zenith, and started the boot up sequence. The tech on duty saw the figure inside the cockpit immediately, and knew he was not supposed to be in there.<p>

"Hey, who are—" he did not have time to finish his warning when he felt something press against the small of his back. He stood there, spasming.

Hein waited for the man to fall. When he did not, he sighed, and proceeded to replace the battery in his stun stick. "I hate it when that happens." Then he shocked the guard again, and propped the unconscious man up. "Looks like he had too much to drink!" He said out loud, looking around him. So far, no one paid him any mind. He made the man sit down casually on a nearby chair, and proceeded to work the Wanzer Setup System console. The machines plugged a set of Verniers on the Zenith, along with a Jumpjet backpack.

"Oh, and let's not forget the Grappling Gun."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Drake 1 has launched, sir, and is moving in formation with the Broadswords," reported Ensign Traynor. She wondered where Hein had gone, as the few chats she had had with him had given her some inspiring insights into signal encryption.<p>

"Excellent," said Ségal, not betraying a hint of his anxiety. "And the freelancers?"

"The freelance fighters that haven't left are waiting on your orders."

"Tell them to stay close behind the Rafale interceptors."

Traynor relayed those orders. "Done; they're moving into formation. Drake 1 is... reporting by text. She's formed up with Claymore Wing."

Ségal assumed she was snubbing him. No matter. With the strike craft in place, it was time to begin the attack on the Krogan Barge and its escorts. "Helm! Bring us within effective firing range! Gunnery, ready main and secondary guns and fire on my mark! All fighters, begin the assault!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Wanzer rose from the Wanzer Bay into the Landing Bay, lifted up by the elevator platform. It approached the Mistral, and fired its Grapple gun at it. The electro-adhesive tip clamped perfectly on the hull.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Mistral you have permission to lift off. Good luck out there."<em>

They waited until they heard something clamp on the hull.

"That's our cue," said Bau.

"Okay... here we go!" Mjrn took off, dragging a Wanzer in tow, praying that the humans would be slow to react and shoot her out of the sky for stealing one of their fancy war machines.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Something gnawed in the back of Ségal's mind as the battle began to unfold on his holographic display, a set of blue shapes slowly approaching a set of red. He zoomed in on Drake 1, and checked its status.<p>

It was loaded with a _Sonnenstrahl_ laser gunpod.

Elsa never went out with one, ever. She favored combat in medium and short ranges.

"Sir!" Traynor said, her voice alarmed. "Reports from the fighter bay! The Mistral just launched with... with a Wanzer in tow!"

"What?!" Ségal's eyes widened in shock at the sheer gall of a Spectre stealing multi-million Euro hardware _right from under him._ He turned to the Gunnery officer. "All point-defense guns target the Mistral and open—"

Traynor's eyes widened. "Wait! Heat signature and IFF signal coming from the Wanzer! Someone's in there!"

It did not take long for Ségal to realize that this was one of _her_ many, many stunts.

"Orders, sir?" asked the sailor manning the Gunnery console.

"What's the Mistral's current heading?" Ségal asked the Sensors specialist.

"It's headed straight for the planet, sir. They'll be entering the atmosphere in a few minutes."

Captain Ségal shook his head and looked at the gunner. "Cancel that last order. Prepare a volley of cluster torpedoes to provide support to the Flying Tigers." Then, he muttered under his breath, "I'll have to deal with Elsa once this is over." Ségal looked at Traynor. "Tell Ensign Zoller that the jig is up, and that if he wants to take Elsa's place in this battle... then he is welcome to it."

Ségal was done indulging his willful ace. After this, if she survived re-entry and the coming battle, then her career with the Navy was effectively over. Europe had no use for a renegade, and Ségal doubted the Spectres needed one, either.

Traynor nodded. "Of course, sir. One more thing, sir. The marines just reported in: They spotted Colonel Hein tampering with the Wanzer Setup console. They request—"

_Hein._ Hein had helped her. That was too much. "Have that bastard put in the brig!" He would deal with the American later. Right now, he had a battle to win.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The sight was unreal: A school of maybe thirty Dayaks swam through the air, slowly swirling above the simple, cubical, windowless metallic building in which the bio-labs were housed. They were hard to see through the snow, but the 108's helmet's HUD was overlaid with Thermal imaging. The mutants were lit up like Christmas trees.<p>

The sound of gunfire roared at a distance, no doubt the Krogan troopers fighting the Manticore mercenary force. The Dayak did not seem to mind, until they caught the scent of Krogan approaching the facility.

Aroused by the scent of their favorite ancient prey, the largest of the Dayak made an unearthly sound, and the hunt began. The swarm dispersed, ignoring the four interlopers entirely.

"That's our chance to sneak in unnoticed," said Adam. "Let's go."

"Careful, I still hear some pods coming down," said Garrus.

"How many pods do you think the barge has?"

"More than ten thousand," said Brea. "That's a rough estimate... but it seems we're not getting the brunt of the Krogan forces."

"I'm worried about the people of Dosadi," said Adam as the four approached the building. "From what I've seen of the SSC they're not trained to handle a Krogan orbital drop supported by Geth..."

Just as he said this, there was a rumbling up in the sky, and a Geth drop ship approached and hovered above. Geth platforms of varying size rained down around the group, each making a loud thump as they landed in the snow.

"I think we should worry about ourselves!" shouted Brea as she drew her pistol.

The first dozen were easily dispatched, and despite lacking the firepower carried by Garrus or Adam and Hannibal's impressive melee capabilities, Brea gave a fair accounting of herself with her modified pistol, blinding the Geth troopers with headshots then perforating their chests.

Then the dropship let out more platforms, two dozen this time, including a pair of huge Juggernauts with gatling pulse weapons.

"We can't waste time here!" shouted Adam as he ran as fast as he could towards the entrance, with Hannibal following close. Brea and Garrus, despite being both augmented in their own way, could not keep up with a pair of legs enhanced with CNT muscles or a quadruped frame built for speed.

A third Juggernaut dropped in front of them, and activated some kind of electric weapon from its palm. Both Brea and Garrus jumped out of the way, only for it to emit a kinetic pulse from its entire body, sacrificing its shields to stun the Bioroid and the Turian. Hannibal was about to jump to their assistance.

"Stay back!" shouted Adam as he felt a tingle in the back of his head. He quickly loaded the blue bullet inside Sasha and fired his trusty weapon at the unshielded Juggernaut. It began to spasm as arcs of electricity arced over its body. What took Adam by surprise was that the lighting got so intense that it jumped from Juggernaut to Juggernaut, then leaped onto every platform in the area.

Garrus and Brea saw this as their chance to get away, and took it. Adam forced the entrance open and let them through, and closed it behind them. That was when the Juggernauts screeched and roared, and exploded, taking the smaller platforms with them. The shockwave put a dent in the door.

"Whew!" Garrus was relieved. "That was close!"

"What the hell did you shoot that Geth with?" Brea demanded to know. "A Disruptor round?"

"Remember that Volus we picked up?" replied Adam. "First chance you get, hand him your weapon. You will NOT regret it."

They quickly barricaded the door with metal desks and Omni-Gel, barring the way for any Geth pursuers.

"That won't hold them forever," reminded Brea.

"It just needs to buy us some time," replied Adam as he checked their handiwork. Satisfied, Adam turned and looked around the Bio lab's entrance lobby: There should have been plenty of security guards manning the checkpoints and security scanners, and a single secretary managing the comings and goings, but the only indication that the posts were even manned were a few blood stains on the floor, walls, and ceiling.

Snowblind hung in the air.

"Fantastic. Our shields are useless and our sensors are crap."

**"I will scout ahead,"** said Hannibal as he activated his cloak.

"Stay within earshot," warned Adam.

**"...Understood. Headed towards nearest elevator."**

The three agents carefully made their way through the bio labs, wary of the presence of any more of these Weepers. Adam had given them a brief rundown of what they could do, and told both Garrus to keep his suit perfectly sealed and Brea to turn on her helmet. Adam was wary of the sound of crying, but found only the groaning of metal, with the occasional clattering of metal. The only lighting came from flickering emergency lightbulbs and the trio's flashlights.

As they walked, Garrus began to hum a tune, as a way to calm himself, Adam assumed.

"I didn't know you were into Terran nursery rhymes," commented Adam.

Garrus stopped humming. "What?"

"London Bridge. That's the tune you were humming."

"I wasn't humming," said Garrus, his head tilted to express his confusion, since his face was covered by a plate of armor.

"Yes you were," commented Brea.

"I think I would know if I was humming, guys. I wasn't."

Adam eyed him curiously. Maybe he was doing it absent-mindedly. "...Let's just keep moving."

The Bio-labs, as it turned out, were built entirely out of pre-fab modules which, according to Brea, were each capable of locking down in case of a bio-hazardous emergency. The thick plating outside was put in place to keep everything in.

"Fat lot of good that did them," commented Garrus as he scanned his environs, his Longinus on hand in LMG mode. "Whatever broke out of here... well, there wasn't much in their way, now was there."

"I know, it's odd. Europa Genomics didn't get this far in the biotech business by being stupid with containment procedures."

"Sabotage?" asked Adam.

"Likely," said Brea.

Carefully, they continued towards where their synched automaps reported the nearest elevator was, where Hannibal was no doubt already waiting for them. In the dark, there was no sound besides their breaths, their footsteps, and that damnable metal groaning.

"Spirits!" cursed Garrus, a nervous edge to his voice. "Where is that sound coming from? Is it those Weepers?"

"Maybe the Geth are trying to break in," said Brea, though Adam noticed she was fairly nervous too.

"Jensen!" Hannibal's head burst out of one of the ceiling vents, snarling. Adam, Garrus and Brea reflexively pointed their guns at him. Only their discipline kept them from opening fire.

"Christ!" Adam cursed, realizing how on edge he had been as well. "Don't surprise us like that! We nearly killed you!"

Hannibal tilted his head, curious, but then remembered he was about to say something. "Lifesigns detected in the next room. Be careful." Then he retreated back into the vent.

Adam and Brea stacked up on the door, Harrier and heavy pistol ready, leaving Garrus with the task of opening it, since his gear was the most cumbersome. All three moved in, and all three forgot about ensuring that the room was clear when they saw what was inside.

The room in question was at least 5 stories high, covering almost the entire height of the building. The metal walls were covered by a fleshy moss irrigated by veins both black and blue. The central elevator shaft itself was covered in tentacles. The meaty tubes had also grown over the walkways that connected the floors to the shaft, and from those grew even smaller ones that caressed the air, making a giant tree.

A giant red tree.

There was a tingle in the back of Adam's mind, and something told him to be very careful. Was Aleph afraid of trees? That was weird, considering he was sleeping in one. Then again, that _was_ a dream.

Hannibal decloaked besides Adam, silent. Garrus was the first to say something. "What. The. Hell. Robot, when you said lifesigns..."

"My vocabulary fell short of describing this, yes." He tilted his head up. "I took a quick look upstairs. The growth has taken over the upper floors, and it is still growing."

Again, the metal's groan echoed throughout the building.

"And the metal walls are giving way to it."

"What the hell is it?" asked Adam.

"I have no idea."

"Brea? Thoughts?" When Brea failed to reply, he asked again. "Brea?"

"I..." Brea hesitated. "Adam... I can hear... I can hear that sound from before."

"What? You're certain?"

"Yes."

Adam looked at the tree. "It's not mutating or attacking us."

"... I think we'll have to get the European fleet to firebomb this place," she said, her hesitation gone.

Adam approached the 'trunk', where the fleshy tubes were covering the elevator's doors. As he approached, he noticed a small, mucus covered bulge. Curiosity got the best of him and he touched it.

The bulge reacted by splitting and parting, revealing an eyeball. It looked straight at Adam.

"The hell?"

As soon as he said that, thousands upon thousand of eyes over the trunk and branches opened, a wave of red irises blooming outwards from the spot that Adam touched. They all stared at the void, then the group, then Adam, each of them boring straight into his mind. Images surged inside his head, an anachronic slide show of a childhood full of sorrow and pain, made all the more miserable by a few, all too rare tastes of happiness, all set to a warped version of London Bridge.

SO COLD

HELP ME

LET ME OUT

The eyes closed, as if the tree had drifted off to sleep, and the visions were gone.

"Adam? Are you alright?" asked Garrus, worried.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay. What happened?"

"You glowed yellow and green for a second and then started humming a tune!"

The trunk split open, and the elevator doors opened. "And then this happens! What did you do?"

"I have no idea," replied Adam as he peered down the elevator shaft. It was a classical cable system, and said cables had been cut. "Yeah, this elevator isn't going to take us anywhere. We're going to have to jump down."

"Is that where this Ramsus is?" asked Garrus.

"Not quite. We'll need to find the hidden elevator to the hot labs, first."

"We're not actually certain he's in there, are we?"

Adam sighed. "No."

"Great. Just Great."

**"Johann is here****.**** I can smell him,"** said Hannibal as he leapt down. **"Trust me."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The heavy doors to B3 were parted open, and the group stepped out. This floor had no illumination whatsoever, and the team had to activate the night amplification on their helmets. To Adam's relief, there was no Snowblind in the air, though the interference of the particles in the floors above made communication with the Durendal impossible. Adam checked his sensors. Nothing was moving besides them... but he had learned that sensors could be fooled. "Looks clear, but don't let your guards down."<p>

"We should look around for information on what happened here," said Brea.

"Now who's getting sidetracked?" said Adam. "We're here for Ramsus, nothing else."

"It's... it's important that I discover exactly what kind of work was being done here."

"I uploaded terabytes of data from the Mira core. It'll have to do."

Brea crossed her arms. "I'm more interested in personal notes and Omni-tool logs. You three can go on ahead. I'll stay here and investigate."

"No."

Brea gave Adam a dirty look. "I wasn't asking, Jensen."

"I mean we're NOT splitting up. That's inviting disaster."

**"I agree,"** said Hannibal. **"I feel... I feel like we're being watched. I can't smell anything but flesh and metal, however."**

"We'll have a quick look around," continued Adam, "And then we're headed down, alright?"

"Fine."

They investigated some of the largest rooms in the floor, and it became obvious that B3 was where all of the most secretive of EG's projects were being developed, though there was not much left of those: the roots of the flesh tree went deep, and reached all the way down here, dipping into anything that could have contained any sort of biological matter. Beakers, cryo tubes, even toilets.

However, they had found one laboratory that had intact specimens, locked in glass cages meant for animals. Three asari corpses lay in them, having died from either starvation or septic shock from laying in their own filth.

"Oh, god..." muttered Adam.

"Senseless waste of life..." commented Garrus.

"Not quite senseless," said Brea, as she produced a datapad from a desk. "I found something..." she quickly skimmed through the logs. "This belongs to Han Olar. Apparently he had a keen interest in researching Biotics." She tapped her chin, pensively. "Hm..."

"What?" asked Garrus.

"The last few logs are interesting. They're in audio." Brea activated the audio logs, and the pre-recorded voice of an Omar, complete with hisses with five or so words, rang out of the small built in speaker:

_**ENTRY 857**_

_Biotics... don't make sense. Sure, Mass effects are simple enough. Positive current through element zero, increase mass. Negative current, decrease mass. Simple. Machines can do it, and using the same principles, so can a lucky few._

_But when you think about it... Where does the kinetic energy for Pull or Throw come from? The mass effect simply controls mass. It shouldn't provide the energy necessary to move things on its own. The Asari tell us that the energy is provided by the motion of the hand... maybe they're right. But they've yet to explain to me how they can guide those bolts..._

_I've got a new batch coming in. Maybe these new tests will provide me with answers..._

_**ENTRY 858**_

_Reave._

_Reave doesn't make any sense._

_According to this book, the ability employs 'Mass Effect fields to biotically attack a target's nervous system'... to prevent healing. Moreover, the caster's own wounds heal at an increased rate. There's no mention of how one relates to the other._

_I have to understand._

_**ENTRY 859**_

_Cast it._

_"...I don't know how..."_

_You're lying, matriarch._

_"Please! Let us go!..."_

_Cast it, or you get the shock again._

_**ENTRY 860**_

_Mother unwilling to cast Reave on daughter. Died from wounds. Daughter uncooperative. Disposed of her._

_I still don't understand._

_Requested a new batch. It's a good thing that Dosadi is... such a cosmopolitan place. Asari are drawn to it._

_**ENTRY 861**_

_Tartakovsky knows. I thought he wanted to blackmail me — 12 specimen__s__ wasted and too little to show for it, a simple report to a bureaucrat and I'm out of a job._

_But no. Tartakovsky just wants to talk over dinner. I asked what could an Omar possibly eat._

_He said, 'Knowledge, my friend. Knowledge."_

_**ENTRY 862**_

_It's starting to make sense. Tartakovsky's theories... yes, I think i can apply what we've learned from the Rachni Queen to biotics! Yes! I can..._

_I can..._

_I don't remember. It doesn't make sense anymore. The connection's off. I must speak __to__ Tartakovsky again._

_**ENTRY 863**_

_I have agreed. They tell me the process will be painless. Tomorrow when I awake, I will no longer be bound by the confines of my body, or my mind. Soon everything will make sense again. Tomorrow there will be a new batch. Tomorrow... Tomorrow WE will finally understand the secrets the Asari have kept from us for so long._

_Yes._

_**Yes...**_

_..._

"If I find this Olar..." Adam started, but left the threat unsaid.

"You'll have to wait until I'm done with him," said Garrus. "What the hell was this about Omar? Are they involved in this mess too?"

"Probably," shrugged Adam.

Garrus grumbled something. "My head is starting to hurt — I mean, who else wants a piece of this guy? We've got Geth, Krogan Warlords, a European megacorp, a major Private Military Company and the OMAR on one side, and on the other you've got us, the Shadow Broker, the European Navy and DARPA! Oh, and from what you told me, there's also an ancient conspiracy of Terrans that want to control everything_._ Help me make sense of this, Jensen!"

"I wish I could, Vakarian," replied Adam, deciding not to mention the Reapers. "But not right now. We've got a job to do, remember?"

"Hmph, fine. I just hope we get something to shoot, soon. This place is making me feel... antsy."

In one of the smaller labs, they found three glass tubes. Garrus cast his flashlight on the first, in which there was nothing but a clear liquid. He then cast his light on the second, and found nothing but broken glass, the tentacles having consumed the contents long ago.

In the third one he found Diana Nielsen!

"Oh, shit!" he shouted. He aimed his Longinus at the tube, but when Nielsen failed to react, he noticed that her skull was exposed and empty, and her skin was lumpy and grey. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He still had nightmares about her blood curdling screech. "Guys! Over here! I found an old friend of ours!"

Adam approached the tube and scowled behind his faceplate. It really should not have come as a surprise, considering he had just killed an duplicate of Elsa Devereaux not even half a day ago. He was curious, however,as to just how far Europa Genomics' involvement with the Bioroids went.

A datapad was nearby, complete with audio log. It had, of all things, a complicated 256-bit encryption key, but once Adam connected to it, it gave up its contents without any resistance.

_"Damn, those things creep me out... oh, am I recording? Ahem! Dr. Zev Cohen, here, Project Replicant report number 224 176. Another failure. The skin and the endo-skeleton just can't seem to get along. From what I'm told the metal is some kind of eezo and titanium alloy. Considering the mutagenic and downright toxic properties of element zero, it doesn't matter what we come up with: The imitation Nagashima cells share the same weakness as the originals, and any shapeshifting dermal symbiont we come up with will degrade. EMS recombination doesn't work. Isolating the skin from the endo-skeleton just slaps the Bioroid right down to the bottom of the Uncanny Valley, defeating the purpose entirely._

_I've decided to devote our resources to the more promising Mimic. An N9 Cell Construct is already complete, with more prototypes on the way. In the meantime, I must recommend that we stop using the Nielsen type Bioroids. They don't keep for long, one way or another... though if we must, then previous versions of the dermal symbiote will have to do."_

"I'll be taking that," Brea's arm snapped like a whip as she attempted to take the datapad away, but Adam was ready for it as soon as he heard the word Nagashima. Brea's hand caught nothing but air. "Give it to me," she asked.

"There's more. I want to hear it," said Adam.

"We have a job to do. Give to me."

"Oh so NOW we have a job to do? Brea, this is what you came here for, isn't it? There's something about this place, this data... you've got questions, and you think this place has got some."

"Give. Me. The. Pad."

"No." Adam pressed the Next Entry button.

_"Zev Cohen, Project Replicant, personal report... The Mimics are showing promise and my latest report, I'm told, has greatly impressed the other Illuminated. So far, the __M__imics have shown great camouflaging and shape-shifting capabilities, and are even capable of imitating clothes. Problems so far? Jaundiced skin, and the attention to detail required to effectively shapeshift is taxing their brain-power. They're barely more intelligent than animals. Those are the issues we need to work on, and Kurt 138 is already showing signs of human intelligence. We'll have him interact with the children of our little cooperation with Project Gestalt, and see how he reacts. 'Administrator' — heh — Urdnot isn't going to be too happy about this, as the woman seems to have a thing for these kids, but then again she's not in the fold. I don't care how brilliant she is, she never will be._

_Hm... Despite the progress, I suspect we'll be hitting a snag sooner or later. The imitation Nagashima cells just have a poor track record. We need to improve on the original, but I'm told our goons in the AIA haven't managed to get their hands on Eve yet. Seventeen years. You'd think it would be enough time to find and capture her, but no._

_Eve. Syd Lawson's masterpiece. The perfect Bioroid Construct. Ha! Henry likes to take all the credit for all his brother's work and has attempted to replicate that success, but we all know who the real genius is. The disastrous N3 cell line is proof of that. No random mutations, perfectly biologically and psychologically stable. Getting a sample of Eve's DNA, or better yet, an healthy ovum, could put the Mimic project on the fast track... hell, forget the Mimics. We could biomodify anything and anyone without any side-effects._

_Oh well, I'm certain I've ranted about this before, and it hasn't brought her to my doorstep. I'll have a talk with Scholar. Maybe we can put more pressure on the AIA."_

_"Z-Zev Cohen reporting... I... I had the Mimics tested, as we discovered some __aberrant__ behaviour in them, especially Kurt. I was right: someone introduced the N3 cell line into the Mimics. They haven't gone rampant yet, we've got them contained and— " _The sounds of alarms blared out of the recording. _"Oh no. They're loose. God help us, they're loose."_

Adam took out the SSD chip from the datapad and put it in a compartment in his armor. Brea, of course, expressed her displeasure by crossing her arms.

"Keep looking for that secret elevator," Adam ordered, in a tone that brokered no argument. He recalled Bakara's directions perfectly, but they did not exactly take into account half-a-meter-thick tubes of meat barring some of the halls. As luck would have it, they came across a large office, with over-sized if simple furniture, ideal for a Krogan. One look at the name on the door and Adam's suspicions had been thoroughly confirmed:

BAKARA, URDNOT  
>Peak 15 Administrator<p>

On the desk was a datapad in sleep mode, waiting to be activated. Adam figured it was another log, and he wondered what it was about scientists with making and keeping those around. He did not even have to hack into it to access it. Seeing as they were on the clock, Adam skimmed through the transcripts. Near as he could tell, Bakara was just as much a prisoner here despite all the perks and responsibilities of her position in Peak 15. There were even more mentions of these 'Gestalt' and 'Replicant' projects, too.

_Gestalt_. Something about that name gave Adam a bad feeling, but he could not understand why. Adam saved the data in his suit, intent on reviewing Bakara's logs later... Though he wasn't looking forward to it: he strongly suspected that these so-called projects would only add to the confusion. What was the endgame for the Illuminati? What connected the myriad dots? Adam feared that he would never, ever know.

The secret elevator was hidden behind a wall of programmable matter in a hall that was out of the way, an area guaranteed to have little to no foot traffic. The keypad to open the large, thick double door was powered, and Bakara's code proved to be genuine. The doors hissed open, letting the group through.

Adam was just about to press the DOWN button when the weight limit alarm went off.

"Huh? That's weird..." said Adam.

"What is it?" asked Garrus.

"Looks like the four of us are too much for the elevator to handle."

"Odd," commented Brea. "The sign says the weight limit is 650 kilograms..."

"Put on a little weight, Brea?" Garrus chuckled.

Brea threw him a dirty look from behind her helmet's visor. "Well, between two men in heavy armor, a mech, and me, this was bound to be a problem."

"You weigh 70 kilos, right?" said Adam. "And Garrus, how much do you weigh with that armor?"

"About... 150, on account of the power packs," answered the Turian. "You?"

Adam did some quick math: He weighed 90 kilos, and his suit weighed 45... "135 kilos."

**"And I weigh 115 kilograms,"** said Hannibal, **"for a total of 475. When you take the local gravity into account, any pressure plate would register us at 384.75. We should be able to move."**

Garrus looked around the spacious elevator. "There's no cargo..."

"And it would take at least five more people for us to go over— urgh!"

The bloody, nearly invisible blade burst from her chest before she could finish her sentence. As she stared at the blade, dumbfounded, the elevator doors slammed shut, trapping everyone inside.

Jensen's Harrier was sliced in half before he could react, and one of Garrus' nacelles was pierced, leaking OVO gel. Hannibal whipped his tail about, and wrapped it around his would-be attacker, crushing it. Its cloaking field distorted and died, revealing a dark humanoid shell of metal and plastic, with red optics.

They were Omar.

Adam fired Sasha in the air, and the Teal bullet hit the ceiling with a shower of sparks that rained down on everyone. The electromagnetic burst caused the elevator a great deal of strain, while the Omar attackers' cloaks were jammed. Seven Omar assassins were revealed. Two of them were pinning Garrus down on the ground while a third one was ready to finish him off with a poisoned blade. He was quickly cut down by Adam's Fandango.

Brea, still very much alive after being stabbed, was still struggling with her would-be killer while Hannibal tried to finish off his opponent, who proved to be far more slippery than anticipated. The Omar Assassins' joints had the full-range of motion of dolls, and moved accordingly. What was worse, their servo-motors made them nearly as strong as Jensen without the 108.

With the grace of acrobats and lethal melee skills, the struggle inside the tight quarters of the elevator was furious. Adam himself had been singled out by two Assassins as the most dangerous of the bunch. They managed to kick him in the face, then in the chest, and push him against the glass wall. They had hoped to kill him quickly and aid the rest of their Collective in dispatching Garrus, Hannibal and Brea.

The elevator's moorings, strained from the shifting weight of the combatants, gave way, and the cage of glass and metal slid down the linear motors. Adam's Icarus landing system kicked in, blinding every Omar, and even Hannibal. They still attempted to fight blind, and proved frighteningly good at it.

Adam, for his part, was stuck on the roof, the weight of the elevator pushing against the resistance provided by his landing system. Up became down, but he was not out of reach of the Omar attackers. He stabbed them both in the head from above, as they were unable to blindly anticipate that particular surprise. Brea, for her part, was savagely breaking the Omar apart with, of all things, a baton, while Garrus finally made use of his newfound superior strength to throw his opponent to the ground and finish him with an Omni-Blade strike to the brain.

Hannibal, meanwhile, was tearing his Assassin's cyberbrain apart with his teeth. Adam looked away: he was not in the mood for a grisly sight.

"You know..." said Garrus as he recovered his Longinus, still very much intact. "Fighting in an elevator? That has got to be a first! Whew."

"Brea? Are you alright?" Adam felt a bit silly asking this, since he was upside down, physically slowing the elevator down. He checked the bloody tear in her parka, and could make out her flesh mending.

Hannibal's optics adjusted to Jensen's EM bubble, and saw Brea regenerate, even as she tried to hide it. The robot chuckled, blood and brain matter still on his scalpel teeth. **"You and Kurt are kin. Interesting."**

"I am NOTHING like Kurt," spat Brea as she sealed the breach in her light-hardsuit with Omni-Gel.

**"Indeed. Say what you will about the Weepers, they don't kill their own. You, on the other hand..."**

"Enough! Both of you!" said Adam. "We're almost to the bottom. Check your weapons. We're bound to meet more Omar..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The 'Hot Labs' were a two story building 40 meters long on a side, some 60 meters underwater, past the very ice of the island. It was connected to the main building by the large transparent elevator shaft, along with six support beams, all of which had thermal charges placed along their lengths. The idea was that, should something try and escape from the labs, the charges would cause the beams to melt down.<p>

Gravity would do the rest by dragging the place into the cold depths of Noveria's seas. The labs would be crushed, killing everything and everyone inside, while the sub-zero temperatures at the bottom would permit the recovery of any valuable biological samples, should any remain.

That was the idea, but Adam got the feeling that the fleshy roots wrapped around the beams would get in the way.

The elevator landed with a loud thud, and the doors were parted open by an invisible force. Awaiting the group was a squad of Omar Guardians. All three groups of four had taken cover behind stacks of heavy crates.

Adam was the first to go out, Tech Armor activated, intending on drawing fire away from the rest of the group. Hannibal cloaked and charged at the nearest Guardian, while Garrus and Brea returned fire.

"Oh, thank the spirits!" cheered Garrus as he opened fire, his military training dispelling all the built up anxiety and the darkness and sounds of the floors above. "A proper firefight!" His joy was quickly dashed, however, when upon receiving three casualties, the rest of the Guardians broke formation and leapt on the ceiling and pylons... and stayed up there, as if attached by an unseen force.

Their tactics quickly reminded both Jensen and Garrus of the Geth Hoppers they had encountered in the Promethean Undercity, but while the Hoppers were more of an annoyance, the Omar Guardians had modified Phaeston assault rifles.

Garrus had nearly emptied his C-Mag trying to take two of them down as they leapt from spot to spot, slowly shaving off his shields. Adam, for his part, had managed to bring another Guardian to the ground by Zero-shifting, and was engaged in a duel — his Fandango vs the Omar's HF Machete. It only lasted a few seconds, and the Fandango proved to be the superior weapon.

Hannibal, to the Omar's shock, had no trouble keeping up with their leaps, himself being built for lightning bursts of speed and agility. While Adam had been fighting, Hannibal had managed to catch up to and claw his way through two Guardians. The Omar shifted tactics a bit, walking on the ceiling and focusing their fire on Hannibal, who easily leapt around and dodged their fire. No longer being suppressed, Garrus and Brea would have easily picked off the rest of the Omar. They had managed to take down two more before the remaining Guardians leapt off the ceiling and engaged them in melee with their Machetes.

Brea, being several times stronger than the strongest human alive and trained in martial arts, had no trouble dealing with her attacker. Garrus, having only received the most basic CQC training in the military and specialized in marksmanship, managed to throw a few swipes against his superhumanly agile opponent before being kicked in the knee and punched in the head. He thanked his new armor's ability to soak up kinetic energy, even as he could feel his lunch surge up his throat.

It was Brea that rescued him, taking the Omar in a chokehold. Her muscles bulged for a moment as she twisted off the cyborg's head. Garrus gave her a quick nod, and resumed picking off the rest of the Guardians.

The last of the Omar proved the most evasive, and kept moving up on the ceiling, firing off bursts at everyone. Adam ran to him and executed a spinning high kick that impacted against the Omar's skull.

The Guardian flew to the far wall, and made a dent against it. The light of its optics flickered, and died.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Clear!" said Adam as he finished securing his part of the laboratory, newly-acquired Phaeston in hand. He had just finished cutting through the locked door, and more would bar their way.<p>

"Clear!" echoed Garrus, finding no hostiles in his.

"Clear," said Brea. "I suspect we won't be encountering any more until we reach the central chamber."

"Makes sense," agreed Garrus. "We'd just pick off whatever small group they can throw at us. Better to make a last stand with the advantage of overwhelming numbers."

"Let's not drop our guard, nonetheless," said Adam.

**"Jensen! Over here!" **Hannibal was pointing at a workstation. Suspended in a mass effect field, surrounded by sensors was an eyeless helmet, mostly bone white with black inlays. It was sculpted organically, and its most noticeable feature was a long strip of polymer in the middle of the face plate curved over the top.

"What's this?" asked Adam.

**"This is Jack's helmet."**

"Nice to know we didn't risk life and limb coming down here for nothing," commented Garrus.

"Why are the Omar so interested in it?" asked Jensen. He looked around for a datapad, but it seemed the Omar had no need to keep detailed logs on their work, unfortunately. His Smart-Vision revealed that the inside of the helmet had a network of electrodes, a lot like Spooky's Cyberspace headgear.

"There's some other gear here..." Brea put a large case she had found nearby on a table, and opened it. Inside, nestled in smartfoam, were a hardsuit, an _Alghul_ sawed-off carbine, a biotic amp of unknown make, and a long, red bastard sword styled after a rapier complete with a scabbard. While the armor was relatively humble with its only decoration being an N7 tag in white and red, the weapons were quite ostentatious. The carbine was wrapped in engraved silver and decorated with ivory, while the sword seemed to have come straight out of a fantasy novel, its hilt carved with baroque, angelic motifs.

"We can't carry all this stuff with us," said Adam. "We'll come back here once Ramsus is secure."

**"He will certainly appreciate having a weapon in hand,"** said Hannibal.

"Hm? There's something else..." said Brea, looking for a hidden compartment. She found a pale pink flower with five wide petals, shaped like a star, suspended inside a glass cube. Adam felt an odd feeling of dread upon seeing it.

**"It's... a memento,"** said Hannibal.

Brea put it back in the case. "Hmph, nevermind, it's just... it's just a bauble. Let's move on."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Clear."<p>

"Clear."

"...Not so clear," said Garrus.

This laboratory in particular was larger than the others, and featured, of all things, a small sub pen. Suspended above the water was a large glass pod, big enough for a Wanzer. The glass was fogged up, obscuring the contents... at least until Garrus walked up the walkway right next to the pod, and wiped the glass.

"Oooooooh crap," muttered Garrus. "What was EG thinking?"

"What is it?" asked Brea, curious.

"See for yourself."

Inside the pod was a large, four legged prawn. It had been strapped to the inside of the pods, and spikes had been jabbed into its neck and head.

"I saw this in my history books back in school," said Garrus. "It's a—"

"—Rachni Queen," finished Brea. "Amazing..."

"It's dead," said Adam, a tinge of sorrow in his voice that was not his own.

"Let me check." Brea operated the console just below the pod. "Hm... right you are. I wonder what EG and the Omar were doing to it?"

"What else?" said Garrus. "Have her breed a Rachni army and sell it to some Terminus Warlords."

"No... they couldn't."

"C'mon, you think EG wouldn't stoop so low as to—"

"— I mean according to this, the first thing the Omar did was to remove her reproductive organs."

Garrus winced. "Oh. Smart. But if they didn't want an army, then..."

"Let me check..." Brea dug into the files, typing quickly. "It seems they were really, really interested in her brain. I've got logs detailing its brain activity for the past six years. It seems to have come to stop a few days ago. Hm... that's strange."

"Strange? I've seen plenty of strange already, Brea. What could possibly top a tree made out of meat?"

Brea rolled her eyes. "Well, it seems that not that long ago the Rachni Queen's brain activity surged, then she quickly died of brain hemorrhaging. Well, no matter. We should move on."

Brea, Garrus, and Hannibal started making their way to the next door, but Adam simply stood there, next to the corpse of the dead queen. Hannibal turned around, and crept up next to him.

**"Jensen, is there something wrong?"** asked the robot.

Adam closed his eyes, and a memory rushed in.

...

_**"Will we dream, Ancient One?" **said the Queens in unison. Soon the sleep would take them, and their minds would be shielded from the Nazara's touch. Aleph did not want them involved in the coming conflict. The Tachidi were a beautiful, creative race, despite the limitations usually imposed on the individual. Many minds. One soul. Still, it was important to remember that even hive minds need leaders. This was why the Queens would be hidden the deepest._

_Their minds were so open... hatred and viciousness and deception were alien concepts to them. There was no time to teach them, and Nazara would only corrupt them into abominations to unleash on the galaxy. They needed time. More time._

_"No..." said Aleph, knowing that the experience would not be pleasant for them. "But don't be afraid. When you awake, the stars will be... a quieter place, and the worlds within your reach shall be verdant. My Enemy will be too weak to touch you, and you will have time to grow as a civilization."_

_**"We will look for you when we awake. We will look for your song of sorrow..."**_

_The process was finished, the Queens and their millions of children were now encased in ice. Aleph lay a hand on one of the crystals that floated in the shielded chamber._

_"May Nazara never find you..."_

_..._

Adam's palm was on the pod, and a trickle of water flowed down around it, over the young Tachidi Queen's face. "I'm sorry," he muttered to her sadly.

**"Jensen?"** asked Hannibal again. **"What is it?"**

Adam withdrew his hand. "Nothing... it's nothing. Let's move on."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The hallway that led to the main chamber was caked in blood, on the other end was a pile of Weeper corpses, riddled with holes, all of them reaching for the thick double door.<p>

"Look at them," said Hannibal. "Their claws are broken."

"And there's claw marks all over the door," said Adam. "They REALLY wanted to get in." He activated his hacking suite and Breached the lock. He detected multiple signals past the door. "Alright, guys, this is it. Let's move in."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Garrus, Brea, Hannibal and Jensen stepped through the recently cut apart doorway, and quickly found themselves surrounded by 42 Omar Guardians, all aiming their guns at them. "Don't move," they said in unison. Brea was the first to put her hands up, stopping the rest of the team from engaging the Omar immediately.<p>

**"You cowardly ****whore****,"** spat Hannibal. Brea did not bother responding. She had been called worse.

This laboratory was much larger than the one preserving the dead Rachni Queen, and configured in much of the same way despite the lack of a sub pen and glass pod. Instead, the centerpiece of the room was a white metal sphere around 3 meters wide, surrounded by support struts and coolant tubes that emanated a cold mist that clung to the floor. The sphere was accessible only by a small metal bridge attached to a raised dais. From the ceiling the roots of the 'tree' were connected to a large black metal obelisk, while the obelisk itself was connected to the sphere through hundreds of wires.

Adam felt a surge of memory at the machinery's configuration:

...

_"Brother," asked Aleph, upon seeing the strange machine. "What is this?"_

_"The future of our race," came the reply from the dark._

...

At the top of the dais stood an Omar clad in a white plastic laboratory coat, working at a monitoring station. _**" My designation is Yaroslev Tartakovsky,"**_ it said, in that strained, heavily accented synthetic voice. It did not even bother to look at the team. _**I speak for the Collective. What are**__** you doing**__** here?"**_

"I could ask you the same!" shouted Adam, furious. "There are creatures loose all over Peak 15! Hundreds of people are DEAD because of them! From what I've seen and heard, YOU'RE the one responsible! Why?! Why have you done this?!"

Tartakovsky turned around to face the party. _**"Because sacrifices needed to be made, towards the glorious return of the Omar. Our people are scattered throughout the galaxy, our communication systems are too slow for a true unity that could make us a force to be reckoned with..." **_he turned briefly towards the sphere._**"...inside this machine lies the key to everything."**_

**"You're planning to use Ramsus as an Ansible?!" **shouted Hannibal, disbelieving.

Garrus was shocked and even more confused. "Wait, what?! How's that even possible?! I don't care how powerful a biotic Ramsus is, there's no way he can send a burst transmission to a Relay!"

_**"...So you are here for Ramsus? A pity. I had hoped to negotiate safe passage to Omega with you in exchange for your lives."**_

"Wait!" pleaded Brea. "We can still work something out, there's no need—"

_**"—But I see now that will not be possible. Kill—"**_

**"—YOURSELVES,"**said Aleph and Adam in unison.

Without so much as a hint of protest, Every Omar save Tartakovsky began to fight one another, unable to discern friend from foe. Omar Assassins hiding cloaked in every dark corner and airvent came out of hiding to join the melee. Tartakovsky, suddenly cut off from the minds of his Collective, activated an emergency force field around the Dais to protect himself.

Adam and his team joined the fray, as many of the Omar were beginning to overcome their confusion. In a matter of minutes, fifty Omar lay dead on the floor, the second to last opting to commit suicide by shooting himself in the head. Curiously, his brains exploded, as if his skull was pressurized.

That left Tartakovsky, who was cowering behind his bubble. A single biotically charged punch courtesy of Adam burst his only barrier. Panicked, Tartakovsky drew out his pistol and fired wildly at Adam, who merely slowly walked forward as the bullets bounced off his shields. After a few shots, the gun overheated, and Adam was now inches away from the lone Omar.

_**"They... my Collective! They're all dead! You killed them all!"**_

"They were your accomplices."

**_"And the signal— you drove them insane! How?! HOW DID YOU DO THIS?!"_**

"I Breached you."

_**"No! Our encryptions are impenetrable!"**_

"Not for me." Adam casually slapped Tartakovsky's gun away, and the desperate old cyborg, completely disarmed, fell on his knees.

"P-please! I beg you! Don't kill me!"

Adam stared down at Tartakovsky. "Answer my questions and I won't kill you."

**_"Of course! Of course!"_** blubbered the Omar. _**"I'll answer all your questions!"**_

"Why did you cause this disaster?"

**_"We..." _**as the Omar began to speak, Hannibal slowly paced around him, growling. _**"...we needed biomass for the amplifier! Nothing else would have worked!"**_

"You unleashed abominations all over this island, potentially infested an entire planet just to get _meat?" _spat Garrus disdainfully, his fury growing. "To make your own perverse version of an antenna? What in the hells?!"

"That's not the whole truth, is it?" asked Brea, coolly. "I'm certain Scholar would have gladly provided you with the necessary materials if you simply asked... of course, he would have demanded your data in return. You got greedy, didn't you?"

_**"Yes... when Scholar contacted us and told us to lay a trap for Ramsus, we saw a golden opportunity. Subduing him cost us much, but in exchange we got... him! We knew that Scholar would send for him immediately. With the loss of the Rachni Queen, our work would have been stalled for decades!"**_

"And you used the outbreak as a cover," concluded Brea.

_**"Yes... and to buy us some time to work. Not only that, Ramsus' reputation would have worked in our favor! We would have blamed him! Scholar would have relocated us and we would have disappeared with the data!"**_

"So much for that plan," grumbled Garrus.

"What did the Tachidi Queen have to do with this?" asked Adam. "How did she die?"

_**"Ramsus killed her. We used her as both bait and trap. He was drawn to her, and once he was close enough, right next to her..." **_Tartakovsky clasped his hand. **_"We had her attack him. As expected, he overcame her, but he was exhausted from the ordeal. We subdued him, easily."_**

Garrus shook his head. "I don't understand. We didn't see any sword marks or gunshot wounds. She died of a brain hemorrhage..."

_**"Of course she did! Ramsus..." **_Tartakovsky looked at everyone. **_"You... You don't know. You don't know what Ramsus is?!"_**

"A biotic. A powerful one." answered Garrus.

_**"You... you... You think we unleashed a bio-hazardous disaster for a mere Biotic?! Ramsus is a **_**Psionic**_**! The second most powerful one in existence!"**_

Hannibal growled.

**_"Please, I've told you everything. Will you let me go? You'll never see me again, I promise!"_**

"No," said Adam flatly.

_**"You...! You said you wouldn't kill me!"**_

"I know. Hannibal?"

Hannibal's sword tail burst out from Tartakosky's chest, and the Omar's mind was drowned in horror as he realized what was happening to him. Hannibal lifted the body slowly, for all to see, as white blood spurt out of the wound. It was not long before Tartakovsky's red optics flickered and faded into black. Hannibal unceremoniously threw the body away and sent it tumbling down the steps of the dais.

"Well?" asked Adam, nodding to Brea.

"Well what?"

"Aren't you going to admonish me for not taking him alive? Sell him out to the Shadow Broker for his knowledge or some such?"

"Hm, I would have," Brea shrugged. "But then he started rambling about psychics." She snickered. "I mean, really? He had obviously gone insane. Whether you killed him or not mattered little to me at that point... Why? Feeling remorseful?"

Adam looked down at the fallen wreck of the man responsible for all the deaths that occurred here. "No," he said finally.

Adam walked up to the main console next to the sphere and started the thawing process. The metal ball hissed white gas as its temperature suddenly dropped. Rings shifted on its surface, while rods sprang out to unlock the various plates, allowing them to iris open. Floating on a bed of frost, in a fetal position, was a naked man, his blonde hair covered in frost, his eyes completely shut. Tubes had been inserted in his veins, providing him with essential nutrients and a steady stream of narcotics.

The bridge unfolded towards the open sphere, and Ramsus fell on it, unmoving and perfectly still.

"Is he?..." asked Garrus.

"Let me check his vitals..." Brea approached Ramsus' still form, her Omni-Tool's haptics active. "That's... that's odd. His brain activity is—"

Ramsus snarled and grabbed Brea by the head, his fingers alight with biotic energy that warped the seal between her helmet and her collar. He bit into her exposed flesh, tearing off a bit of skin, and grunted at the flavor of her blood. Brea screamed in outraged panic, and wrestled him away. Not happy about being denied his drink, Ramsus glowed with a red aura and swatted her away with a burst of dark energy, right into the glass of an emergency fire cabinet. Adam and Garrus' reaction to this should have been immediate, but a pain had suddenly surged in their heads, as if their brains had been dipped in hot lava.

**"Jack! Don't—" **Hannibal tried to reason with his friend, only to taste of his wrath in turn. The dog mech found himself swatted away, and his synthetic body put a dent in the wall. Then, it was Garrus' turn, and he fell into unconsciousness.

"ANNAH!" Ramsus' roared, his naked body wrapped in a red aura. "WHERE IS SHE?!"

Adam was the only one left standing, and in him Ramsus saw nothing but an oppressor, another servant of those that would shackle him. Fury overcame his senses, fueling his element zero nodes, and he let loose a Singularity so powerful it should have the cyborg collapse in on himself.

Only it did not.

Adam's own eezo cores wrapped him in an aura of blue and green, and he countered with a sphere of dark energy that kept the eddies of singularity contained. The back of his brain tingled, soothing the burning pain, and Adam realized that it was Aleph helping him against Ramsus' onslaught.

The entirety of the Hot Labs groaned in protest at the biotic duel, its hull and bulkhead buckling under the strain. Adam knew he could not keep this up forever. Either he killed Ramsus here and now, or everyone would perish.

Ramsus roared in fury. "I! WILL! DESTROY YOU! I WILL—"

_Thunk._

Ramsus fell unconscious once more, and standing over him was Brea, a fire extinguisher in hand. "Right, then. So much for that."

The rest of the party recovered consciousness and gathered around Ramsus' unconscious body, though Hannibal had to limp. They all looked down on him.

"So, that's Johann Ramsus, huh?" said Garrus, keeping his rifle trained on him.

"Yep," said Adam, making flash cuffs with his armour's integrated Omni-Tool. "Let's get him out of here."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Notes<span>**: Before some of you decide to flood my message box and tell me how annoyed you are that I've added yet another universe into the mix, such as XCOM and Warhammer 40k, allow me to tell you that Psionics are in fact canon in Deus Ex.

Sorta.

There's a throwaway line when JC Denton visits the Hong Kong branch of Versalife. One of the office workers asks JC "You work in Psionics? You look like you have the Gift." One might think nothing of it, that the worker is some sort of charlatan, but considering all the shit MJ12 was up to, research into mind reading and mind control would be right up their alley.

In Invisible War, you've got the Greys, who seem to be able to communicate telepathically. Well, it's not downright stated that they can do that, but I like to think that they do.

So there you have it, MJ12's legacy lives on in Ramsus.

No codex entry today, though I will be publishing Bakara's logs very soon.

Oh, and here's the French translation:

* * *

><p>Elsa glared at him some more, then, finally, she spoke. "I peine dix minutes, tu m'avais reprimandé pour avoir ignoré les cosses orbitales pour sauver Taggart—"<em><br>"Ten minutes ago, you had reprimanded me for ignoring those pods to save Taggart-"_

"— Je t'ai reprimandé pour m'avoir désobei!"  
>"- I reprimanded you for having disobeyed me!"<p>

"—Et maintenant que c'est le temps de venir au secours des 'millions de gens que j'ai mis en danger', tu veux que j'aille attaquer un navire troué qui peux à peine maintenir son orbite! C'est quoi, la logique? Parce que moi? J'ai du mal à la voir."

_"And now that it's time to come to the rescue of the 'millions of people I put in danger', you want me to attack a ship full of holes that can barely maintain its orbit! What's the logic? Because me? I'm struggling to see it. "  
><em>

_..._

"Écoute," she continued, trying to be reasonable, "Je sais que les nanites peuvent causer un fléau, mais les Krogans vont faire des choses horribles à ces civils! On doit les arrêter et tout de suite!"

_"Listen," she continued. "I know that the nanites can cause a scourge, but the Krogan will do horrible things to the civilians! We must stop them and immediately!"_

"Ce que les Krogans peuvent faire à ces gens n'est RIEN comparé à ce faire devorer vivant par une multitude de machines, et c'est exactement ce qu'il va leur arriver si on laisse le Drogo se reparer. Lieutenant, je commence à en avoir assez qu'on doute de mes ordres sur MON vaisseau. Allez preparer vos hommes, et maintenant!"

_"What the Krogan will do to these people is NOTHING compared to being devoured alive by a multitude of machines, and that is exactly what will happen to them if the Drogo is allowed to repair. Lieutenant, I've had enough of having my orders doubted on MY ship. Go prepare your men, now! "_


	44. Audio Logs: Bakara

_**Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos and Square Enix**_

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Spellcheck by WarpObscura

* * *

><p><strong>Mass Effect: Human Revolution<strong>

* * *

><p><em>Excerpts from Urdnot Bakara's personal logs, Peak 15<em>

* * *

><p><em>I've been told it is standard operating procedure to make regular records of the work we do here. Apparently, should the worst come to pass these logs should clue <em>_in__ any recovery team as to what exactly happened that __led__to our doom. Hmph, a bit dramatic, but no matter._

_Today is, officially, the first day I've been working in this facility. But I have been 'working' here a lot longer. My... predecessor was a wet piece of toast that came to me regularly for advice. His rival thought he could use this to get him fired. It worked, but I suddenly came to __the__ attention of the man who owns this place. I made quite an impression, evidently._

_'Administrator' Bakara does have a nice ring to it. Certainly better than Tuchankan Sample number 2150._

_Hm, first order of business, fire you-know-who._

_There's poison in my tea._

* * *

><p><em>It's been difficult to balance my duties as scientist and glorified manager, but I've managed to increase efficiency of Peak 15 by 20 percent by <em>_axing__ several less-than-promising special projects and re-__assigning__ their resources into work in progress, including the Dayak cloning. Han Olar's research into Asari physiology has proven to be... interesting. I'll keep him around. What's the harm? As long as he has access to simulation units he could be very helpful in helping me with my own personal project._

* * *

><p><em>Project<em>_ Gestalt. It came to my attention when this... 'Mey Leng' came for a visit to... borrow one of the children there. I thought little of it and signed off on it. When the child came back, however..._

_I know that look. I know that look all too well._

_I took to visiting the labs where the children sleep. I half-expected them to scream, but they were more curious than anything. I got to knowing them, and I told them a few things about me._

_They're underfed. I'll requisition more supplies for them._

_In any case, the scientists at Project Gestalt are a... quiet bunch. I thought I could wring some answers out of them on account of my newfound authority and intimidating manner but... nothing. I have figured out that they're very interested in the human brain, however._

_It occurs to me that I know little about the projects here. I should remedy __that._

* * *

><p><em>For the past year now... I've been dreaming about this woman. She looks... Krogan, but her name... Shelob... it rings familiar.<br>_

_At first we were hostile to one another, and we hurt one another as well as one can in a dream. Our bodies were air and our wounds brief. After a while we laughed__. W__hat was the point?_

_In the dreams we speak of many subjects that I can barely recall, but we always came upon the... touchy matter of motherhood._

_Shelob longed to have children of her own. I told her I empathized._

_She said she had children nonetheless. They were not her kind but she could hear __them as__ they sang in their sleep. She often sang back, soothing them, chasing the bad songs away. She only wished she could soothe their waking aches._

_Hm... I wonder how the children are doing right now? My work is mostly done. Another visit to the Gestalt labs is in order._

* * *

><p><em>"Baba." That's what Laurie called me today. "Urdnot Bakara" was too much for her to pronounce, poor thing, hahaha...<em>

_I ah, I've been visiting them daily for a while now. The children, I mean. I've asked the older ones where they're from, but they say they can't recall a time when they weren't in here._

_None of them knew what the word __'sky'__ meant._

* * *

><p><em>Director Fettel loathes my interference with Gestalt, saying I'm contaminating the 'subjects' with my picture books. Thankfully, Scholar couldn't care less. I think he's actually interested to see how my interaction with the children could benefit him somehow. Too bad Fettel doesn't agree.<em>

_Why do humans keep barking like Varren pups at creatures so much stronger than they? Fettel seems to think I can't snap him in two._

* * *

><p><em>Bioroids. Their metal endoskeletons... the way they seem to grin at you... It's <em>_**wrong**__._

* * *

><p><em>Replicant<em>_ is giving me some valuable insights into bio-modification and cybernetic integration, far more than what I have been able to glean from books and my experiments back home. This... Nagashima cell replica they are working on has a lot of potential. With the right genetic programming, a single injection can radically alter one's genome, not to mention cause nearly immediate physical changes. The trick is knowing how to program. That's the difference between augmentation and... rampant tumours._

_The latest version still had some kinks, but it should be suitable for my goal, as long as I don't make use of Eezo. I wonder what the original is like, if the imitation can be so potent?_

_Note to self, have the N3 cell line samples destroyed._

* * *

><p><em>I received an email today from Doreah. She's managed to take a census and... we were right. There hasn't been a Krogan birth in fifteen years.<em>

_We're dying._

_Am I too late? Has the galaxy grown tired of us and decided to end it once and for all?_

_No._

_I can't stop now._

_I WILL change the rules. I __**must.**__ I don't care what it takes!_

* * *

><p><em>I've had many husbands. Cohollo. Quaro. Jhaqo.<em>

_They're all dead._

_I've had many sons. Ogo. Jommo. Moro._

_They're all dead._

_Daughters. Dalla. Morna. Elenei._

_Dead._

_Urdnot Wrex. The crownless prince. The coward. The runaway._

_My promised... ha, he lives._

_He __**lives**__._

* * *

><p><em>As much as I loathe our men for being war-obsessed murderers... I must confess that we women are just as much to blame for the sad state of affairs of our race.<em>

_We part our legs for the strongest, most violent of these murderers. Our vaginas moisten at the sight of their grisly war trophies, the lips part to the songs of hate and revenge._

_But the worst part is our inability to bond with our children in their formative years. It is an evolved response: With the staggering death rates before nuclear fire burned our world, there was little point in spending time on children who may have died on the very next day. Only the teenagers were worth it, as they were proven survivors. The males, on the other hand, bond with the children the moment they hatch. It's... their one redeeming quality._

_Even as most of our children died in their eggs, we couldn't bring ourselves to bond with the few that don't. Meanwhile, our men took our children away, and they whispered to them stories of glorious battle and revenge and their unfair lot in a harsh galaxy. And they listen._

_Eventually us women do bond with our children, and we do our best to teach them our wisdom... but it's too late._

_It is time for me__ to__ change that._

_*Hypospray hiss* Ugh..._

* * *

><p><em>The<em>_ Omar stole some of the samples. I confronted Tartakovsky about this and he feigned ignorance. Scholar's reply to my email came in. He reminded me that the Omar have a higher clearance than mine, and are no doubt using the samples for something essential._

_I don't trust them. N3 is far too __dangerous._

_..._

_It has a mind of its own._

* * *

><p><em>I.<em>_.. I unleashed the Dayak __on__ the galaxy. When I helped the humans revive this dead __race I__ thought they would simply do experiments on them __and__ had no idea they would mass produce them. I should have known better: any ancient fauna from Tuchanka would make an effective bio-weapon. Few ecosystems could tolerate them. No one would be safe from them._

_And there is money to be had in terror._

_Ugh!... Just a little longer. It'll be worth it in the end. It has to be._

_It has to __be._

* * *

><p><em>The Dayak speak. They taunt me by turning silent whenever humans approach. Their tongue is old and guttural and unreadable to translators.<em>

_I can't destroy them. My patron would object._

* * *

><p><em>Han Olar stopped using simulation units a long time ago. I've seen the way he treats his specimen<em>_s__._

_But his data... it's too useful to pass up._

_Vaul, what have I done? There are three girls in boxes — boxes! — coming in the front door and I feel..._

_I feel nothing._

* * *

><p><em>This way lies the path to hell. You come bearing the gift of a Dayak's tooth on an ice world overrun with humans dedicated to science, and they will take that tooth and keep YOU as a specimen— a bonus prize. You suffer quietly for a year through their probing, and cutting, and tests, and you begin to correct their mistakes. Scholar comes along with a smile. Correcting somehow turns into instructing. Instructing somehow turns into managing. Managing turns into experimentation. Experimentation turns into horror.<em>

_Gestalt needed samples from Replicant. I had no reason to tell them no. N3 was no longer an issue._

_I came for the children and... and most of them were dead. Only a handful out of fifty survived what the scientists did. I saw the bodies. I remembered our creches. Somehow... somehow this was worse, and I can't understand why._

_They ones that live look so... so ill. Their faces beamed at the sight of me. Their faces beam still. They don't know what I did to them._

_They can never know._

* * *

><p><em>I am a prisoner here. Never mind the fancy apartment. Never mind the pay. I can never leave this place. I am still a specimen. Once I stop being useful, they'll throw me away. Like Olar did with those girls... I still dream of tearing him out of whatever hole he's been hiding <em>_in__, but who am I to judge? I let him do it._

_The process is almost over. It'll be worth it in the end._

* * *

><p><em>My new secretary, Johanna I— *sounds of <em>_vomiting,__ two minutes* Urrgh... where was I? I like her. She makes for scintillating conversation. Now that I think about it... whatever happened to the old one?_

* * *

><p><em>I've stopped dreaming of Shelob. It's a sign.<em>

_I must leave this place._

* * *

><p><em>*Alarms* *Screams*<em>

_Scholar? If you're listening to this..._

_I no longer need you._

_I quit._

_*Gunfire*_


	45. Chapter 40: The Battle Of Noveria Part 4

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 40: The Battle of Noveria part 4

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Spellcheck by WarpObscura**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>DOSADI<strong>_

_**"**_This thing handles like a drunk rhino!" shouted Jane in frustration as she tried to keep the Grizzly AFV steady. More than a couple of abandoned cars had been totalled on the way.

"Wreav is getting away!" Grey shouted right back.

"I'm trying!" complained Jane. "Goddamned stupid dual stick control bullshit!"

In front of them, Bau's team were doing much better with their APC, with Wrex and Bren defiantly standing on its armored roof, shouting challenges at Wreav's Geth transport. Their driver, Jenkins, had no trouble keeping his vehicle steady and on course.

_"__6 Geth__ Wanzers incoming, 3 o'clock!" _warned Vega over the squad's channel. Grey rotated the Grizzly's turret to the right and opened fire on the Geth Wanzer squad, and managed to bring one down low. The rest, however, were dashing full speed towards the Deep Eyes' Grizzly.

Elsa boosted her Zenith into a full Dash and bashed the lead Geth away with her shield. She forced the rest away with by going full auto with her Cemetery IX. _"Keep going!"_ commanded Elsa. _"I'll catch up when I've taken care of this!"_

_"Good luck!"_ replied Bau. _"Jenkins! Get us closer!"_

_"I'm close enough!" _shouted Wrex.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Wrex Charged and appeared in a burst of Dark Energy atop the Geth hovercraft's back. He quickly got to work savaging the hull with his axe, and the craft's turret popped up in response. A quick Warp, and shot from his Spike Thrower, and the turret's gun became utterly useless.<p>

A hatch popped open behind him, and from the hole sprang a huge Krogan in dark green heavy armour, streaked with splatters of white paint. In his hands was a two-handed hammer made of black iron, veined with glowing red energy. Wrex felt a familiar tinge of dread at the weapon. The same dread he had felt upon seeing the prize at the center of the _Caravel._

"Wreav," He said flatly, hiding his shock. The rumors had been true: Wreav had had some work done.

"Wrex!" Wreav's helmet collapsed and retreated in his collar, revealing his contemptuous, scarred face and emerald green crest plate. "Brother! Small galaxy, isn't it?"

Wrex's axe glowed with Biotic energy and swung at Wreav's head, who blocked it easily with the shaft of his weapon. "Why?! Why are you working with Saren?!"

Wreav's face contorted with anger. He pushed Wrex away, and swung at his brother's head. "How could I not?! He offered me a chance to restore our people to glory!"

"Glory?! You're provoking the galaxy into finishing us off!" Wrex fired off a Throw, which hit its mark dead center. Unfortunately, Wreav had modified his armor with a kinetic buffer mod. The Throw pushed him back, but barely.

"THEY ALREADY HAVE!" Wreav struck with such force and fury that Wrex's Biotics could not keep him on his feet. He fell on his back and rolled, and recovered quickly. "FIFTEEN YEARS!" cried Wreav. "That's how long we've gone without a single birth! The Salarians came, and poisoned our air to ensure our doom!"

"No! You're lying!" Realizing that taking on Wreav in melee was turning out to be a bad idea, Wrex attempted to shoot him with a spike launcher. Wreav dashed forward with frightening speed and smashed the weapon away.

"LYING?! I had to watch my newborn son MELT as I desperately cracked his egg to give him a chance to be born, and you call me a LIAR?!" Wreav renewed his onslaught with a flurry of blows, using his augmented strength to overwhelm his brother. Wreav had always lost to Wrex in their fights growing up, as he did not have the advantage of Biotics. But now, Wreav was bigger, stronger and faster than before. A smile of satisfaction crept over his face as Wrex lost his weapon, then his footing, and nearly fell from the craft.

Wreav approached his brother, who was hanging on from the edge of the Transport's roof.

"You ask me why I'm working for Saren?! Look around you!" He spread his arms wide, joyously. All around them there were the roar of explosions and gunfire. "The Krogan horde restored! And for the crime of aborting our future, I will take the horde across the civilizations of the galaxy! I will kill all their warriors! I will tear down their cities! I will rape their women, and take their children as slaves!"

Wreav felt the transport lurch, and heard a loud thud behind him. He turned around, and saw a Roegadyn in a challenging boxing stance, his fists covered in glowing Omni-Gel Cestuses. "Not if I have to say anything about it!" He said, a cocky smile on his face.

Wreav's eyes widened in madness. "I have been meaning to kill one of your kind for years." From Wreav's maul, a silvery spike sprang from the head, and the huge Krogan happily engaged Brenin Tymestl in melee.

While the two giants fought, Wrex crawled back up the Transport and recovered his axe, which had, as luck would have had it, lodged itself into the Transport's armour plating. Knowing that he would not stand much of a chance against Wreav unarmed, he immediately went for it, struggling for a moment to free the weapon. Once he succeeded, he turned around, ready to assist Bren in taking Wreav down for capture. That was when the unthinkable happened.

In terms of strength, Wreav and Bren were evenly matched. Bren tried to pry away the weapon from Wreav's hands, but Wreav gave no ground. Then he made the terrible mistake of trying to break the stalemate by headbutting Wreav.

As tough as Roegadyn were, their skulls were not equipped with organic plate armor. Bren became dizzy, but held fast.

Wreav responded with a headbutt of his own, then another, and another, until Bren let go. Wreav shoved him away with his maul's shaft, sidestepped, then swung, burying the silvery spike in his heart. Surprise and horror came over Bren's face, and he tried to speak, only for a strangled croak to come out.

"Hmph," said Wreav contemptuously as he lifted the Roegadyn's corpse up. "Puny Roegadyn. You newcomers thought you could come in and wipe the floor with us, then take our place as the finest warriors of the Galaxy?! When I'm done with this place, Amaethon will be the first planet I BURN!"

"No..." was all Bren could manage to say before his eyes finally closed.

Wrex roared in blind fury, and dashed towards his brother, ready to hack away. Wreav smirked, retracted the spike back into the maul and swung, tossing the Roegadyn right into Wrex.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The two alien mercs impacted against Bau's APC, causing it to swerve and flip over. Jane, trusting her reflexes, made a sharp turn to avoid them. Sadly, the Grizzly's controls over compensated and the AFV hit a car. Being closely related to the Mako, its mass effect field made it flip around in the air before landing upside down on the street.<p>

Jane groaned in pain, but her suit's HUD reported no major injuries. "Everyone else okay?"

"I'm good," said Ryan from the passenger cabin. "Sir? Sir!"

"Get me out of this thing!" said Grey, his feet sticking out of the turret.

The Deep Eyes got out of the Grizzly through the emergency underside hatch, and looked around for hostiles. So far, the street was deserted, but gunshots were starting to get closer.

"Hey!" Ryan called out to the SSC APC. "Are you guys okay?!"

"We're good!" replied Vega loudly as he, Jenkins and Bau stepped out of the APC's rear hatch.

"Hey! Can one of you guys check on Wrex and Bren?" said Jenkins, nursing his left leg. "I think they're still back there!"

Grey turned to Jane. "You go check on them. Me and Ryan will inspect the damage on our vehicles. Go!"

Jane nodded and ran off.

Elsa's voice came through Grey's communicator. _"Capitaine Grey? Do you copy?"_

_"_Grey here, I copy. Devereaux, we've got some bad news: Our vehicles are down and Wreav got away from us."

_"Merde! I'll be right over: I've got a trio of Armatures to deal with."_

"Take your time. We're not going anywhere. Grey out." The marine captain turned to Ryan. "Tell me you can flip this thing back?"

"I could," replied Ryan. "But Jane really put too much stress on the drive shaft. It's warped. I haven't got the tools to fix that."

"Damned Alliance surplus piece of crap... Well, looks like we're hitching a ride with Bau." At that moment, Grey really, REALLY wished he had a wanzer of his own to drive. Problem was, Lieutenant Matsuo could not spare even one of those Urban Tendus Wanzers in Port Hanshan.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Flat on his back on the asphalt, Wrex groaned in pain as someone kicked him awake.<p>

"Hey Kroc! Wake the fuck up!"

Wrex grumbled and tried to get up. His armor's computer reported cracks all over his armor plates and a couple of broken bones. He set them by hand, grabbed his axe, and rose on his feet. "Urgh... Bren? Where's Bren?"

"Your Ogre pal?" She pointed at Bren's fallen form, not even five meters away. "I checked on him first."

"Is he..."

Jane shook her head. "Sorry. Shot through the heart. He's not getting back up."

Wrex sighed tiredly. He took note of the names of the streets, intent on coming back for Bren's body later. "Let's get out of here," he said, as he walked towards the fallen APC.

"Yeah, we got a warlord to catch, right?"

"...And I've got a few questions to ask the Salarian," he growled.

That was when Bren groaned, and got up. Wrex froze in his tracks, turned around at his friend, and smiled. "Hah! I knew you wouldn't—"

Bren's groan became a gurgle, and his entire body convulsed and rumbled. His left arm bulged and expanded, its armor plates snapping off, revealing blue glowing veins and segmented cables that snaked out of his muscles. Inch-long claws sprang from the deforming fingers of his huge hand.

His armor plates popped off his torso, pushed away by black barnacles with glowing blue lights that grew out of his skin, interconnected with a network of black veins. Bren turned around, revealing his blackened eyes with blue lights for irises. Tubes and black metal spider legs sprang from his mouth, clawing at his face and jaw. But that was not the worst of his transformations.

His codpiece popped off, and a segmented, snake-like metal tentacle sprang out. The tip opened its fanged mouth and hissed like a snake, pointing its two optics at Jane.

"OGRE HUSK!" shouted Jane in warning to the rest of the team as she fired her SMG at the creature.

From Bren's mouth came an unearthly sound, a flanging scream that could have been pure fury or pure sorrow. The Roegadyn's corpse, animated by ancient nanomachines, attacked.

As Wrex slowly walked over to the charging Ogre, axe in hand, he could not help but laugh.

_"So! I've been wondering. Who would win in a fight between you and Bren?" asked the Fiera pilot._

"Looks like we're going to settle that question once and for all, eh, Bren?" Wrex let out a warcry that got his blood back up, letting him ignore the pain in his body, and swung at his friend.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>PEAK 15<strong>_

_In the dark, Jack tried to reach out, but found himself unable to. It seemed that the Omar were done with him for now, and __had__ unplugged him __from__ the psionic amp. No doubt they would move him elsewhere._

_Oddly, while he could __not__ sense her anymore, he should have been able to sense the dim flame of the Omar collective around him. He refocused his attention through the haze of sleep and drugs, and sensed four flames around him. One was bright cyan, the other dark blue. A third... the third one was strange: A shadow, wrapped around a tiny green flame that only betrayed glimpses of its light. And then, there was the familiar orange red flame surrounded by blue embers, the quiet rage and furious sorrow of Hannibal._

_Strangest of all, it seemed the shadow drew in small wisps from the other flames, even Hannibal's, though his was the weakest of all. The brightest conduit belonged to the dark blue aura, the one belonging to the Turian. The one that belonged to the woman — the cyan one — should have been almost as bright... but she seemed to resist._

_It was so much like __Shepard__: but while her aura was a purple star, overtaking all in her presence, this __one seemed__ to be__ a__ black hole drawing the light of other stars in._

_Ramsus felt himself wake up, and that meant a sense of confusion and vertigo as he transitioned the dark realm of his dreams into the harsh light of reality._

_"Hey..." beckoned a woman's voice. Ramsus knew that voice. He __would__ know it anywhere._

_"Junko?..."_

_"Heeey..."_

_"You... you have to help me. Annah..."_

_"WAKE UP!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the lab where Ramsus' effects had been stored, Adam slapped Ramsus across the face, and the AIA assassin's eyes opened wide. The blonde man shook his head, and he laughed as he tasted the copper of his blood.<p>

"He's all yours," said Adam, his voice scrambled by his helmet's vocalizer. Hannibal was in need of some repairs, and he decided to let Vakarian and Brea handle interviewing Ramsus. He did not trust himself to keep his cool around him at this point, and he needed to keep his hands busy to put his mind at ease.

He did not regret killing these Omar. On top of trying to kill him, his partner, and Brea, they had killed every scientist in Peak 15 and their families for some godforsaken attempt to 'unifying the Omar'.

Another grand cause, and another cult of maniacs willing to kill for it.

Hannibal's left foreleg's joint actuators were completely broken, but thankfully his myomer muscles were intact and more than capable of providing the necessary motion. Adam opened up a private channel via Codec with the mech as he fabricated the necessary parts with his Omni-tool.

_"I'm going to have to cut out the joint actuator and replace it with a ball joints wrapped in gel. You're going to lose some fine motor control, but you'll be able to move your leg right."_

_"Proceed."_

_"Alright..." _Adam used the plasma claw on his index finger to cut the warped part out. _"Been meaning to ask __-__ you were the one that taunted me over __C__odec as I rescued Goto, and again as I made my way out of the floof. Why?"_

_"I... apologize for that. But I had to evaluate you."_

_"Evaluate me? On what?"_

_"I needed to know how you felt about artificial sapience, like me. I needed to make sure you wouldn't kill me on sight. On the one hand, you saved a clone with an electronic brain. On the other, you consorted with a __Q__uarian."_

Adam soldered the joints into place_. "Not a fan of them, I take it?"_

_"I don't hate Quarians. I have learned, however, that they have no love for me."_

_"There's a story there, isn't it?"_

_"Yes. I was damaged, once, and Ramsus, not being very technically inclined, kidnapped a Quarian to repair me. His work was mostly done when curiosity got the better of me and I asked him a question. That had been enough for him to try and take a plasma torch to my processor. Ramsus took it personally."_

_"I can imagine. Still, you saved me from those Metro dwellers. Why?"_

_"I still felt that you would have a part to play in my plan to find Ramsus. Things did not quite turn out how I wanted them to, but in the end, I was not disappointed."_

Adam finished the job by setting the thin armor plates back into place. He could not help but notice that the curves, lines, and details of Hannibal's body matched the 108 a great deal. Same manufacturer?

"One more thing? What company made you?"

_"My processor core is branded Hahne-Kedar. My body was made by Tokugawa Heavy Industries."_ Hannibal got down from the table and tested the repairs. It wobbled a bit, but he compensated quickly. _"Thank you. These repairs will do for now."_

_"You're going to need an overhaul, soon. There's a lot of metal fatigue in your frame."_

_"I know. Hein told me the same thing. He sweetened the deal by offering me a new body. I agreed on one condition."_

_"Oh?"_

_"That I keep this face."_

_"And Ramsus? Do you think he'll work with us?"_

_"That remains to be seen. My advice? Do what he asks of you."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What do you want?" asked Ramsus. He checked his situation: they had kindly put his Nyx hard-suit on him, no doubt to protect him from the cold. Sadly, they had disconnected the power-cell. His weapons were in a suit-case, and his helmet — the most important part of the suit, really — was still floating in that sensor cage.<p>

His amp was not in. Instead, the Turian had rigged up some kind of detonator and wired it to his amp port. Shock leash.

_Well, this is going to be fun._

Ramsus tongued the inside of his mouth. There was a flavour of blood between his teeth and around his gums that aroused him. Such a delicious flavor... how did it make its way into his mouth? By the way the woman tried not to nurse an ache at the sight of his teeth, Ramsus knew that it was her.

_My, my... aren't you a fine mammal?_

"We're the ones asking—"

"I know who you are already, _Eve." _Ramsus could feel her shock from behind her polarized visor. "Yes, I know your name. It lingers in the back of your head. Eve, Eve, Eve... your father gave you that name while you grew in your tank."

"Don't let him get to you," said the Turian. "He made a lucky guess. That doesn't mean—"

"—And you," Ramsus interrupted once again. "Turians are hard to read, and your name is hidden from me..." Ramsus' eyes rolled back and he shuddered. "Do you think your mother remembers your name? You know, between those moments when she shits the b—"

The Turian's answer to that came with the press of a button and a brief shock of 1200 volts that coursed through Ramsus' nervous system. His biotics flared briefly, but the muscle spasms kept him from focusing the dark energy anywhere.

"You say _anything_ else about my mother, and we'll see who will shit the bed when this is over," threatened the Turian.

Ramsus just chuckled. "Oh, don't stop on my account. I do love this foreplay, Garrus... Garrus, Garrus, Garrus. Ah, the name rings a bell. C-Sec? Vakarian. _Quite_ famous. And if you're here, well..."

A figure in dark armor approached, with Hannibal following closely at his side. "This must be Adam Jensen. One is never far from the other... and speaking of which." He smiled a warm smile at Hannibal. "Old friend. I knew you would get my message. Could you please tell these lovely people I mean them no harm?"

"**That is going to be difficult,****"** said Hannibal.

"Oh? How so?"

**"You tossed me into a wall."**

"You nearly killed me," agreed Garrus.

"You bit off a chunk of my neck," said Eve.

"You threw a black hole my way," said Jensen.

"Ah," said Ramsus, nonchalant. "I must have been hungry. Still am, really." Ramsus licked his teeth again. That flavor, it was as if he tasted the very flesh of angels... "Still, I'm hoping we could let bygones be bygones and that you could untie me?"

"We've got some questions for you," said Adam.

Ramsus gave an inquisitive look to Hannibal, who nodded. "Ask them, then."

"First, listen to this:" Adam replayed an audio clip extracted from Lawson's Omni-tool:

...

"Nielsen's dead."

"Of course she's dead. That's not the issue, the issue is that she tried to waste Jensen and Vakarian, and now the Council knows about our Snatchers. They put the Spectres on the lookout!

"This is still well within our plan's parameters. We can deal with the Spectres. When it comes down to it, they're just people, and even the greatest Spectre in the galaxy needs to sleep..." Lawson chuckled menacingly. "In any case, Nielsen took care of the Primary Unit—"

"Shepard."

"...of Shepard, and the way is paved for the second— that is to say, Jack, to take over the central role in the Ozymandias Scenario."

"Is Jack fully prepared? Does he know what's expected of him?"

"Hmph. He doesn't have a choice. We've sent the recall signal through the usual channels. He should be back from his mission."

"The Ozymandias Scenario," said Adam as he paused the clip. "What is it? What's your part in it?"

"To die," answered Ramsus.

"...What?"

"Well, more precisely, I was to become a martyr for all mankind. Saren and I were meant to have a few confrontations on 4 populated planets, then at the last moment, when the whole world was watching... I was supposed to let him kill me. As you can imagine, I wasn't exactly keen on that last part. And before you ask... the end goal? The big payoff? I have no idea."

"Shepard was supposed to fill the primary role, not you, but then AIA killed her, why, exactly?"

"Because she would have won, completely and utterly. That simply would not do for a martyr. The stories of living heroes are a bit hard to rewrite, wouldn't you say?"

Garrus could not quite believe what he was hearing. "The AIA killed Shepard because she would have ended a threat against mankind? Saren's attacking human colonies! They should have helped her! That doesn't make any sense!"

Ramsus chuckled, "Of course it doesn't make sense to you. Turians believe in rewarding their heroes. The Illuminati... well, they're afraid of theirs, and they had more than enough cause to fear Junko."

"What were they afraid of?" asked Adam.

"Junko..." Ramsus closed his eyes, as if recalling a pleasant memory. "Junko had charisma. No, a power. To bask in her presence is to become her willing servant. You would die on her command. You would kill on her word. And most importantly of all... you were freed."

Ramsus opened his eyes, and held everyone's gaze. "There is a place called Kinderheim 511. There, biotic children, like myself, go through extensive psycho-conditioning to make full use of their abilities. More importantly, they leash you with words. Uncommon phrases that function as triggers for a variety of unpleasant effects meant to keep one docile. They did the same to me, and it worked... until I met her. Her influence, her power... it freed me from those words."

"And Shepard? They couldn't leash her?"

"No. They realized that they couldn't control her. And if there's anything the Illuminati fear... it's power that's not in their grasp. That's why they killed her, and her death is the reason I'm here."

"Well, there's the million dollar question, I guess," said Adam, crossing his arms. "Why are you here? Why come all the way to Noveria?"

"I came here looking for my sister."

"You came all the way to a godforsaken research facility in the middle of nowhere to find your sister? Couldn't you have checked a phone directory or something?"

Ramsus tried not to roll his eyes. "Hmph. Mister Jensen, please. She is my twin."

"So?"

"Allow me to put things in perspective. The Omar risked everything to keep _me_ in their grasp. I can pull thoughts and memories long buried. I can haunt dreams, and I can make your dearest friends look like your worst enemy. When I tell you that my sister makes me seem like an insect in comparison, I want you to get my full meaning." He paused for effect. "Now, do you really think my creators would simply let her go on her merry way?"

"No."

"Smart man."

"So you thought she was here, in Peak 15?"

"Yes..." Ramsus looked like he swallowed bile. "But it seems in my haste to find her I was fooled. The Omar used their pet Rachni to subdue me."

"And here you are."

"Yes. Here I am. So, if what I've been able to glean from Eve's lovely little brain is accurate, Hannibal brokered a deal with this... Hein? What does the chief of DARPA want with us?"

"He's out to get the Illuminati. He figures that you might be a valuable asset."

"Yes, well, if he wants to do that, then he must help me in rescuing Annah."

_"You can't help me..."_

"Did you say Annah?"

Ramsus looked straight at Adam and quickly deduced the less than obvious. "...You contacted her!" Ramsus would have risen from his seat if Garrus had not fingered the switch. "Listen to me!" he almost begged. "Annah is the central component of Arcadia, and that system is the beginning of something far, FAR worse! If Hein wants to strike a blow against the Illuminati, then rescuing Annah will set their plans back for decades until they can produce another like her!"

"Where is she?" asked Adam.

"Upper Dosadi, at the top!"

"Adam," warned Brea. "He's playing you."

"She's right! He was in Dosadi already, and now he wants to drag us back! I don't know what his game is, but we shouldn't fall for it!"

Adam moved towards Ramsus and promptly removed the restraints on his feet.

"Adam!" warned Garrus.

"_Look,_ we've talked long enough. First we have to get the hell out of here, away from the Krogan, the Geth, and Manticore and THEN we can talk about mounting a rescue when we're back safe and sound onboard the Durendal."

**"That seems like a reasonable course of action,"** said Hannibal, his narrow red optics pointed directly at Ramsus.** "I suggest you go along with it."**

"Fine," said Ramsus, turning his back on Adam. When the restraints failed to come loose, he stared at the dark armored cyborg. "Well?"

"No," Adam replied flatly.

"Well, I can hardly use my weapons like this."

"I've seen what you can do," said Adam, referring to the AIA substation. "If you think I'm going to have you run around with a sword and a gun, you've got another thing coming."

Ramsus silently looked for Hannibal for support in the matter, but found none. It seemed that Johann Liebert Ramsus would have to be marched into the snow like a convict.

"Garrus, Hannibal, you take point. Brea, you take Ramsus' leash."

"...Excuse me?" replied Brea, displeased. "I am NOT a baby-sitter."

"Do you carry heavy weaponry?" said Adam as he put Ramsus' helmet in the weapons case along with the rest of the gear.

"...No."

"Anti-armor HF melee weapons?"

Brea looked at her telescopic baton. "...No."

"Powered Armor?"

Brea looked at her damaged light hardsuit and white parka. "...No."

"Then baby-sitting a psychic cannibal assassin is all you're good for at this point."

Garrus handed Brea the switch. "You heard the man. Careful though. He bites."

"Don't worry," said Ramsus seductively as Brea came up behind him, a pistol pointed at his back. "I'm wonderful company."

She shocked him in response.

**_~[h+]~_**

* * *

><p>The way back up was somewhat awkward, seeing as the two elevators leading to the first floor were effectively broken. Both times, Ramsus offered to float everyone back up with his biotics, but nobody in the group would trust Ramsus with a fork, let alone a biotic amp.<p>

So, Adam had to fix the rail moorings on the first elevator. That took a while, and the trip back up was slow, as Adam did not want to stress his patch-up job.

"So, Ramsus," asked Garrus, needing to make conversation. It was a reflex, these days; one had to pass the time in those Citadel elevators _somehow._ "How did a giant prawn stuck in a cage get the better of you?"

Ramsus raised an eyebrow and glared at the Turian. "It didn't get the better of me, I killed it with my brain. Or did you miss its giant carcass on the way here?"

"Don't give me that crap about psychic powers."

"Shall I pull another secret from your mind?"

"That doesn't mean anything. For all I know you read my file, or guessed my identity by being really, really observant."

"Yes, I deduced your identity by that mustard stain on your left gauntlet and the scuffs on your boots." Ramsus chuckled. "_Please_, there's only so much observation can tell me."

"You can't read minds," said Garrus, more to convince himself than anyone else. "It can't be done."

"You're a detective. Willful denial of evidence is bad form."

The second elevator... well, that was a lost cause, but thankfully the first floor was only three stories away. Hannibal simply wrapped his tail around both Brea and Ramsus and clawed his way up, with Jensen following close behind. Garrus had jumped up ahead with his jets. According to him, the floor was clear, but Snowblind still hung in the air.

"There's something that wasn't there before!" Garrus shouted down.

"What is it?" Adam shouted back.

"Some kind of unexploded Geth missile... maybe? I'm not sure."

When the entire party arrived on the first floor, they found some kind of three meter long spike embedded in the ground. Judging by the faint light coming from above, it seemed to have punched through the ceiling.

Before they could investigate it, though, a Dayak came through the hole and attacked them. It biotically charged at what looked like the weakest of them all — Ramsus — hoping to make off with an easy prey before Jensen and Hannibal could counter-attack.

And then it stopped in its tracks, an inch from Ramsus' head. The lanky human held the cloned beast's gaze, like a child seeing something for the very first time.

"Hold your fire," said Ramsus. Ramsus leaned forward, and the Dayak backed away. Ramsus moved left, then right, and the Dayak turned to follow his gaze. Then he bared his teeth, breathing a growl, and then the beast's body tore itself apart in a burst of dark energy from its own Element Zero nodes, and blood splattered all over.

Ramsus licked the blood on his lips. "I don't suppose you'd let me eat what's left? " he asked Adam innocently. "I'm ever so hungry."

"What the hell was that?!" shouted Garrus, trying to process what had just happened. He had been told about the Dayaks, but he had not seen one up close before. "How the hell did you kill it?!"

"With my brain." Ramsus smiled, not really looking at Garrus as he looked around the area, with walls riddled with thick, fleshy veins. "So this is what I was plugged to."

"So you were," said Adam, putting Sasha away. "Tartakovsky described it as a psionic amplifier."

"Yes... though it didn't quite work as intended. Still, I managed to send out the message that brought you all to me."

"What message?"

"A nursery rhyme. You've probably never heard of—"

"London bridge is falling down?"

"Yes... quite right. Ah, I had forgotten that it was more common in your time. These days most people can't even name it."

**"When I heard some nearby children sing it,"** said Hannibal, **"I hired Goto and her fellow Dream Hackers to seek out a more detailed message. Goto was the only one that returned... sane from the job. The rest rambled, though one said something about 'The Fifteenth Peak' in his more lucid moments, which in turn lead me to the Dosadi EG facility, and then here. I assume it was the same for you?"**

"Nah, Goto was a dead end," said Adam, even though that was not quite true. Had it not been for her, Adam would not have had the clues necessary to beat Leng... and then there were the Arcadia trips. "We saw mentions of Peak 15 in the computers and documents of that AIA substation you hit."

Ramsus stared at Adam, a confused look on his face. "What AIA substation?"

"The one you turned into a charnel house?" Adam looked at Hannibal, who merely shook his head.

"Well, yes, I suppose I would have done just that had there been an AIA substation here," said Ramsus, smirking. "But I never attacked it."

Adam was about to protest and accuse Ramsus of lying, but he then realized that he was the one that assumed that Ramsus had hit the place, since the carnage matched expectations colored by the dossier put together by the Shadow Broker. Adam cursed himself for making such a rookie mistake: He was supposed to get all the facts before jumping to conclusions.

**"If we did, I woud not have missed such an essential clue, and I never would have had to hire the Dream Hackers,"** said Hannibal, pointing out yet another flaw in Adam's thinking.

"If you didn't hit that substation, who did?" asked Adam, horrified at the idea of a serial killer on the loose in Dosadi.

Ramsus seemed to consider the question for a moment, but then shook his head. Adam got the impression that whatever conclusion the rogue AIA agent got perturbed him deeply. "It doesn't matter," said the blonde man, nodding at the spike. "We have more pressing matters to attend to, no?"

They examined the device, which was certainly of Geth make, with a smooth, almost seamless shell. Its center was opened, exposing complicated machinery with a spherical core that glowed red.

"It's not a missile," said Ramsus. "It's a probe. The Geth were looking for some—"

The core suddenly flared, and pointed a beam at Ramsus. After a moment, the spike made a screeching sound that nearly destroyed the eardrums of everyone present. Hannibal was hit the worst of all, as his audio sensors were tuned to be very sensitive.

The core melted, taking essential circuits along with it.

"Great. Killed that with your brain, too?" quipped Garrus.

"No..." said Ramsus. "I simply... I wasn't what it was looking for. I was close, but no..."

**"Do you hear that?"** said Hannibal. **"Listen... strain your ears..."**

Adam cranked up the gain on the 108's audio sensors. He could faintly hear the sound of Geth dropships' engines roaring, growing fainter and fainter. "They're leaving," he said finally, and he started at Ramsus. "I thought the Geth were after you, for some reason, but now..."

Adam suddenly recalled the message Tali had left behind when she believed she was about to die: The Geth had been on Noveria before, but for what reason, Tali had no real idea.

...

_"I know, I know... I thought Keenah and I foiled whatever plan they had for the planet, but... It looks we only delayed it."_

_"What were they doing?"_

_"They were setting up some kind of antenna, in a configuration that we had never seen before..."_

_..._

"Annah. They were always here for Annah."

"We must hurry back to Dosadi," said Ramsus, an almost menacing edge to his voice.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Please!" Ramsus was practically begging now. "What must I do convince you?!"<p>

"Shut up," said Brea, "Or I'll shock you again."

**"Fools rush in,"** said Hannibal, subtly reminding Ramsus of his own capture. "We can plan for a proper rescue later."

Garrus led the way, coming upon an opening into the eastern wall that lead outside. Apparently one of those Dayaks had warped its way out of the walls. The opening was large enough for a person to fit through.

He put his fist up, signaling everyone behind him to stop.

"Garrus?" asked Adam.

"Just being careful. Might be a sniper out there."

"Are you sure? My scanners are still scrambled by the Snowblind."

"Mine too, I just... I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

"Well, let's make sure." Adam created a fake helmet out of Omni-Gel, stacked up with Garrus on the opening, and stuck out the item into the light. No shot came.

"Well, maybe you were—" That was the last thing Adam said before the Widow's Drill Shot pierced his cover and blew a hole right through his skull. Garrus watched in horror as brain matter leaked out of the 108's helmet in slow motion, vaguely aware of someone screaming as he watched his friend die. This couldn't be real, and it didn't feel real.

It took a moment for him to realize that it was him screaming.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO—

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Please..." said Ramsus, a cat-like grin on his face. "There must be something I can do to convince you—GAH!"<p>

"Don't make me shock you again," threatened Brea, her finger on the switch. She felt odd, a feeling of deja vu gnawing at the back of her mind.

Garrus led the way, coming upon an opening into the eastern wall that lead outside. Apparently one of those Dayaks had warped its way out of the walls. The opening was large enough for a person to fit through.

He put his fist up, signaling everyone behind him to stop.

"Garrus?" asked Adam.

"Just being careful. Might be a sniper out there."

"Are you sure? My scanners are still scrambled by the Snowblind."

"Mine too, I just... I just have a bad feeling, that's all."

"Well, let's make sure." Adam created a fake helmet out of Omni-Gel, stacked up with Garrus on the opening, and stuck out the item into the light. No shot came.

Adam stuck the fake helmet out, and no bullet came. Brea's sharp eyes caught a glimpse of the targetting laser, shifting from the fake helmet to Adam's head.

"Well, maybe you—" Adam was interrupted mid-sentence by Brea pulling him down into an embrace. She spun, putting herself between him and the incoming sniper round that was drilling its way through the thick metal.

Brea felt the slug pierce its way into the base of her skull, tear her brain apart, and explode out of her face. She felt someone embrace her in the darkness that took her, and she found herself thinking, with the last of her working neurons, for Adam not to let her go.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Please, there must be—" Ramsus was cut off mid-sentence by Adam punching him in the face.<p>

"STOP THAT!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam shook his head and pointed Sasha at Ramsus' head. "Mess with my head again and I'll—" He was interrupted mid-sentence by Garrus and Brea tackling him to the ground. From the opening that led outside, a 2.5mm Drill Shot from a Widow whizzed past their heads.<p>

This was real, Adam realized. This was happening right now.

Ramsus smirked. "You're welcome," he said, and promptly took cover when machine gun fire came through the exit. "We might want to pull back into the building! Blacklight has got this place surrounded!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You missed," said Leng, taunting, as she sharpened her metallic nails. Corvin promptly cycled another shot in the chamber of his Widow Anti-Material Rifle. Against a normal human being, it was overkill. Against the likes of Ramsus and whatever it was that had killed his men in charge of sanitizing the residential building, it was just enough kill. "Don't bother," she said, "They moved deeper in the facillity. Your bullets won't reach them." Corvin glared at her from behind his helmet's optics.<p>

Circumstances had forced the two of them to cooperate in clearing Peak 15, but Corvin did not trust the woman at all. She had her own agenda, one that was not quite in line with his superiors', or his own. Then again, he was technically supposed to subdue Ramsus. He doubted his superiors would like his interpretation of subduing — the permanent kind — but letting Ramsus live would have dire consequences, he knew.

"Fire a few WP missiles at the facility," he barked at her. "I want him and these bogeys smoked out!"

"No."

"Excuse me?"

_**"**_I will send my mechs and mercenaries in. _**You and what's left of your men will go in with them."**_

12 men, three of them in Exo-Suits. That was all he had left, and against Ramsus that was suicide— _these were his best men, and with support from these mercs — all seventy of them— Ramsus would be dead soon enough. Yes. Yes..._

"Men!" he shouted into his microphone. "Switch to Ultrasound comms! Form up behind the mercs and get ready to move in after them! Ramsus and his pet die today!"

Mey Leng watched as the Blacklight troopers cheered and her 'mercenaries' moved into the bio labs through various entry points. _Yes,_ she thought. _Go. Fatten him up. Wound him. Make him slow. _She looked up, her SK drones circling overhead. She had lost a few to the Dayak mk II prototypes, but she had managed to hunt them all down. _My pets will be ready to snatch him for me._

_And I will make him my Kai Leng._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Have you ever fought Blacklight Elites before?" asked Ramsus, as Brea dragged him into the most secure room they could find. "And I don't mean the thugs they send against the unarmed and infirm. I mean their real killers, the ones they call in to end people like me. Few people have."<p>

"I've faced _worse_," said Jensen.

"Good, because we're about to get swarmed by 12 of those, supported by seventy mercenaries and several mechs. Copleys, I think."

"You couldn't just _say _that they were out there?" asked Adam angrily as he loaded more tungsten ammo in his revolver.

"A thought is faster." said Ramsus, shrugging. Then, he gave Garrus an amused look. "Do you believe me _now_? Or is your brain scrambling for another explanation?"

Garrus merely snorted and looked away.

"Now," continued Ramsus. "I would really like to have my gear back. As much as I like a challenge, I'd prefer not to fight Blacklight with my _hands tied behind my back."_

Jensen's reply was quick. "No."

Ramsus blinked twice in disbelief. "Well, that's gratitude for you. _I saved your life. _What else do I need to do to convince you that I'm on your side?"

**"How many times must I tell you?" **said Hannibal, shaking his head. **"Nobody likes an intruder in one's mind."**

"There are a million subscribers to Arcadia that prove you _wrong_," countered Ramsus bitterly. "You're offended? Fine. But battle will be upon us soon and you would be fools to keep me leashed. They will kill you, make no mistake about it. _Let me kill them back._"

There was an eagerness in that last part, a lust for carnage that Jensen had no intention of satisfying for its own sake.

"We don't need to fight at all," said Jensen. "All we have to do is get out and call in an extraction."

"Oh? And do you suppose Manticore is just going to let us out?" asked Ramsus, glibly. "It's cold and snowy outside. The exits will be covered."

Adam approached Ramsus and grabbed him by the collar. His voice was low, and menacing. "Look, I am NOT trusting you with any weapon. We're going to do things my way: _quietly_. If that's too much for you to handle, I'm calling this mission off and I'm leaving your ass tied up for Blacklight to find. Do you want that?"

"...No."

Adam let Ramsus go. "Good. Then stay close and follow us. If you make so much as a peep, I will end you long before Blacklight gets the chance to erase you."

"If we're going to do this quietly," said Ramsus, calmly, "I'm going to need my helmet."

"Why?" asked Garrus suspiciously.

"Do you intend for my head to be covered in frostbite and bullets, then?"

"...Fine," Adam acquiesed and removed the electric leash from Ramsus' neck port before setting the Nyx helmet on the man's head. . Ramsus turned his head left, then right, testing the neck seal.

"Ah, much better," said the rogue operative.

Jensen turned to the dog mech. "Hannibal? You and me are on point. Garrus? You're on rearguard, and Brea?" He tossed the case with the rest of Ramsus' gear at her, and she caught it, frowning. "Try and keep up."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The walls were alive. That was what the meat shields reported to Corvin as he sent them in first. In the atrium near the elevator, the AIA lieutenant noted that it was much more than the walls that were alive. He was not sure what the hell EG was up to, here, and frankly, it was not his job to care. This place was going to get sanitized in due time, but first, Corvin needed to be certain that Ramsus was dead and gone.<p>

Corvin was not sure what sort of madness was possessing him to go into a dark, barely lit building with Ramsus inside of it, but he had not taken complete leave of his senses: His men, and the Copleys, would hang back until Ramsus inevitably started killing and eating mercs.

Twenty minutes, and nothing. No gunfire, no screaming, not even a report of something amiss on the ultra-sound channel. Damned Snowblind! A single sensor ping and they could have swarmed him. No matter: no one posted at the exits and breaches reported him coming out. He was trapped.

Losing patience, Corvin ordered the mercenary teams to report. All of them reported the all clear, with the exception of team 7, who did not respond at all. That was it. That was the slip up that would end Ramsus' life.

"Team 6, 8, and 9, report to Team 7's last known location and investigate."

Five minutes later, the three teams' report came in the form of gunfire and screaming. Corvin knew he had him, but just in case, he figured it was best to bring in the big guns. He turned to his Specialist. "Go outside and set up a comm channel to the Normandy."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The door to the rooftop burst open, and once he was certain everyone was out, Adam locked the door behind him and sealed it with some Omni-Gel. There was some banging on the door, and Adam suspected it would not be long before the mercenaries would use a breaching charge.<p>

"So much for stealth," commented Brea.

"Looks like we're going to have to fight after all," said Adam as he switched on his Codec. Without Snowblind interfering with communications, he had a clear channel to the Durendal. He called for an extraction, and Neil's reply was less than welcome. "Half an hour."

Garrus nodded, and looked around. The place had plenty of concealment but little cover: criss-crossing support beams, some chest high walls, air conditioning machinery and air ducts. There was some high ground, accessible via ladders. And, with around 10000 square meters of terrain to work with, there would be plenty of room to manoeuvre.

"This is a decent place to make a stand. No choke points, though, and wherever we hunker down, we're going to get flanked. I don't know if we can last 30 minutes though... I don't suppose you've got any more gas bombs?"

Adam shook his head. Garrus cursed under his breath. Without that element of surprise, confusion and concealment, Blacklight would be able to focus their firepower. If only the snowstorm hadn't calmed down...

"And on top of that, my remaining power-cell's at 21 percent," added Garrus.

Ramsus sighed meaningfully. "Oh, I'm afraid it's much, much worse than you think... Blacklight's calling in frigate support."

"Aw, hells..." muttered Garrus. "Adam, I'm good, but..."

"Oh, don't worry..." reassured Ramsus. "I can take care of this problem." And then, he took a deep breath.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Normandy<strong>_

Joker winced as Rosie Draven pushed the chair forward so that he could reach the helm's optics. He looked down at the braced cast on his leg. Apparently the good captain had to break it, as the pilot it was attached to had gone a little nuts while the optical cloak had saturated the ship with craziness-inducing radiation. Or something.

Rosie made sure Joker was good to go, and took her seat besides him at the sensor station. An awkward silence fell between them, echoed throughout the entire bridge. Finally, Rosie asked: "So, what was it for you?"

Joker glared at her, then smirked. "Oh, you know, pink elephants." It was a lie of course. While the cloak was active, Joker had relived a nightmare version of his flight academy days, only with an added dose of Silent Hill thrown into the mix for good measure. He suppressed a shudder as he thought about that pilot's chair made out of barb wires and scalpels tended by a couple of creepy dentists. Joker hated dentists.

"Liar," said Rosie, chuckling.

"What about you?" Joker asked, hesitantly. "What did you see?"

"Sorry, this is one of those 'I show you mine you show me yours' kind of deals."

Joker sighed, and decided that maybe talking about it would distract him from the dull pain in his leg. "Alright, it was the academy."

"Hazing ritual?"

"Nah, it was... it was the put-downs, the smirks, the disdain. People didn't like me back then. And then nicknames started coming. Wheels, Crutches, Mister Glass... you know, real clever stuff. It wasn't that bad, really... but during the cloak it was like re-living those days with psychotropic drugs in your system. Everything's more fucked up, you know? All these assholes became warped monsters, taunting and laughing at you in the shadows."

Left unsaid was that he had brought a lot of that scorn down on himself. He had never smiled. Never tried to socialize. He had been obsessed with being the best of the best. He had endured while others burned out and quit. Someone had called him out on nearly pushing some girl to suicide. Joker had not cared then.

Then, not a few hours ago, some schmuck had outflown him with a piece of junk Copperhead. Something about that... it had caused a dam to burst inside Joker's head. It was as if all of his work was about to come for naught. If he was not the best pilot anymore, what was he?

"Yeah..." agreed Rosie.

"...Your turn?" asked Joker, expectantly.

"I imagined my brother Hayden walking away from us while we were children."

"Damn. That's... that sucks."

"Oh, it didn't actually happen that way. He joined up with the Alliance military so that me and my two little brothers could get a roof over our heads and a steady stream of groceries. He was real proud when he made N7."

"...Did he die on a mission or something?" asked Joker, insensitively.

"I don't know," replied Rosie. "A few years back he got involved in a bar brawl with a Krogan on the Citadel. He shived him to death, and he got dishonourably discharged. We had all graduated high school back then and I had signed on to become a sailor, so he decided to pursue his dream."

"Which was?"

Rosie smiled. "He wanted to become an actor. He came to Noveria hoping to get his start as a martial arts action star, get involved in some vids with budgets too low to have the stunts done digitally. He was a real kung-fu nut. Wanted to be the next Bruce Lee."

"Didn't work out, did it?"

"It was going to, according to his last email. Said he had might have a role lined up and then... nothing. He stopped calling, stopped writing. He simply vanished, and nobody could tell me where he had gone. In my worst nightmares..." Rosie sniffed as she wiped a tear. "I dream that he always hated us for being such a burden on him after our parents died. It's tough being sixteen and being the man of the family, you know?"

A silence fell between them again. Joker could not quite relate: He had never been responsible for another person, after all.

"I wonder if he ever landed that role," Rosie muttered to herself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The cloaking system was, as it turned out, little more than a ring of black steel with power ports on each cardinal direction. Even with the power off, it still hummed, and the sound seemed to scratch Captain Anderson's brain. He had ordered Addams to shut the device down completely, but all the chief engineer could do was unplug the piece of Blacklight technology out of the Normandy's system. It was, as far as he could tell, still on.<p>

Nearby, the smouldering, liquefied remains of the Blacklight trooper that had killed one of Anderson's crewmen was being put in a small container.

Gyges Replica mk IX. The letters had been carved into the steel with a laser. Anderson wondered if that was a reference to something. He wondered what the original was like.

"I tried scanning it, but the sensors come up negative for... everything," said Addams. "This thing might as well not even exist as far as our machines are concerned. I'm guessing Blacklight's got sensor blockers set up inside this thing. I could crack it open, if you'd like."

Anderson shook his head. "The AIA would have all our heads. Just put it in a lead-lined box for now. I'm headed to sickbay. Let me know if anything comes up."

"I'll work on getting us airborne again. Just need to pump some seawater and we'll be good to go."

"How long?"

"About fifteen minutes."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>All three beds were occupied by the worst cases of self-mutilation. One of them, the Gunnery officer, had taken a pen to his eyes, muttering something unintelligible through the fog of his double dose of anaesthetic. The other had bitten through his hand. The last of them had taken an Omni-Blade to his lower jaw.<p>

"Doctor?" called Anderson. Dr. Chakwas was sitting at her desk, drinking her brandy straight from the bottle. Whatever the Gyges' EM field had made her see, it took half a litre of expensive alcohol to drown. "You wanted to see me?"

"Just wanted to report that we're all going to be fine..." she slurred. "I finished scanning the brains of the entire crew, and... and our brains aren't fried. I'm remedying that situation, though," she raised her bottle meaningfully. "Also, I quit."

Anderson's shock left him speechless for a moment. "Karin..."

She cut him off. "Can I tell you why I joined? It was right out of med school. I thought the colonies were teeming with exotic adventure. I wanted to travel the stars, tend the wounds of tough soldiers with piercing eyes and sensitive souls." She laughed bitterly. "Instead I have to relive the worst moment of my career, watch as the entire crew goes insane, all because BLACKLIGHT wants to avoid any sort of consequence for shooting down a passing ship!" She spat the word 'blacklight' with as much vitriol as possible, conveying exactly how she felt about the Alliance's Black Ops organization.

"Karin," started Anderson, diplomatically. "I know Blacklight is into ugly business, but it needs to be done. Do you really think the other major powers in the galaxy haven't got any skeletons in their closet?"

"We're supposed to be the good guys!" Chakwas shouted as she rose from her chair. "We were supposed to take the fight to Saren! Instead we try to shoot down Terran ships and do **nothing** as Geth pound the living daylights out of a single carrier full of Frenchmen! The bleedin' _French_ are stepping up in defense of an independent colony outside the borders of the Alliance! Why aren't we?!"

"It's not that simple! We have our orders!" Anderson shouted back. God, did he want to do just that, but the consequences of disobeying the AIA would be dire. The entire crew would pay the price.

"It is! To hell with Blacklight, to hell with the AIA, and to hell with Corvin! Walk away from this garbage! Get us into orbit and—"

_"Sir?" _Navigator Pressly's voice came through the intercom. _"I've got Lieutenant Corvin on the line. He says it's urgent."_

The Doctor's eyes were pleading, now. "Anderson, don't answer him. Walk away."

"...It's not that simple," said Anderson as he turned away from her.

"Then you'll never be free of Blacklight. This ship, its crew... they were meant for greater things than help the AIA make people disappear and bury inconvenient truths." Chakwas sat back down, and buried her face in her hands. "Where did things go so _wrong_, David? How did we lose our way?"

Anderson said nothing as the doors slid shut behind him. Karin picked up her datapad, and started writing her letter of resignation.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At Navigation, Pressly, looking haggard, gave Anderson a headset.<p>

"Anderson here," said the captain, dreading what Corvin would force him to do next.

_"Ramsus deployed some kind of bio-weapon around Peak 15__,__" _said Corvin, his voice laced with static. _"I need the place sanitized, and now."_

"We need some time to get back into the air. Engine trouble."

_"I don't care about your excuses."_

"I can't work miracles with the engines, Corvin, we—"

"...Listen to me _very_ carefully. If you don't obey me right this fucking instant, Blacklight will be paying a visit to Ms. Sanders. We'll do the same to the families and loved ones of every. Single. Member... of your crew. Now be a good dog, load up some thermobaric missiles in the tubes, and GET OVER HERE! I want Peak 15 sanitized NOW!"

The channel cut off, and Anderson found himself rubbing his eyes. _Where did things go wrong? How did we lose our way? _Karin's words haunted David. He took a deep breath, and told himself that the crew came first, and that bombing a facility full of god-knew-what was not the worst thing one could do in the name of the Alliance.

"Joker, set a course for—"

_**You have been deceived. **_The voice, deep and smooth like leather, rang clearly through Anderson's headset.

"Who is this? How did you get this frequency?"

_**You know who I am.**_

"Ramsus... You're Ramsus."

_**Corvin lied to you. He is pursuing a personal vendetta.**_

"What?... no. Corvin told me you had gone rogue!"

_**And you simply believed him? I am the only genuine AIA agent on this planet, and since code black is in effect I am ordering you to come to my aid.**_

"And why should I believe you? For all I know I got my ship and my crew mixed up in some AIA in-fighting!"

_**Hahaha... That is entirely possible. But I wonder which side you will pick? The one that threatened to murder all that you love, or the one who intends to lead the Geth away from here? For I know what they are truly looking for, and Corvin is in the way of that.**_

"And how do I know I can trust you?"

_**You don't. But I am giving you something Corvin would never dare to.**_

"And that is?"

_**I am giving you a choice.**_

After a moment of silence, Anderson knew Ramsus was done talking. What he had just heard... it was almost too much to bear. He had trusted that doing nothing while the Geth attacked yet another colony, that attacking a US spacecraft, that nearly going completely mad from Cloaking Psychosis had all been for the good of the Alliance.

But it was not. It was all so that Corvin and Lawson could have revenge. And perhaps, Ramsus had deserved it, too. Or perhaps things were not that simple. Perhaps Ramsus was really trying to help Dosadi, and Corvin was a traitor.

Karin was right. He should walk away from this, and mutter a curse on both their houses.

_I am giving you a choice._

"Joker?"

"...Sir?"

"Set a course for Peak 15."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>PEAK 15<strong>_  
>[Mass Effect 2 Arrival OST — Object Rho]<p>

_**It had just been 5 minutes, and already Adam was beginning to feel the pressure. He and Hannibal were busy assaulting the enemy at close range while Brea and Garrus were sniping from the high ground. Ramsus was with them, his hands still bound.**_

At first, Adam had focused on crippling the alien mercenaries with brutal, but non-lethal takedowns, due to his suspicions about them being little else than slaves. That had nearly gone out the window when they started throwing more of those inferno grenades at him. At that point adrenaline surged through Adam's veins, putting him in a mode of thought bent on survival at all costs.

Just like on Elysium.

_Keep calm and break their arms and legs, _he told himself, over and over. He had managed to take down 12 mercs like this, working at a pace that was much too slow. He was faster than this, Adam knew, but he needed to be careful. If Adam moved out of cover and exposed himself, the rest of the small army arrayed against him would focus their fire on him and he would be as good as dead, Tech Armor or no.

Hannibal had fared no better, slightly handicapped by his damaged leg. He had managed to tear into six mercenaries, each time narrowly avoiding being filled with bullets.

And that was when the Copleys started showing up. Mercifully, their defenses were not optimized for particle beams, and Garrus had no trouble taking down three of them. The rest quickly adapted. Half of the remainingCopleys ducked out of sight as the other half fired bursts from their SMGs to keep Garrus suppressed while mercs approached the ladder that lead to his perch. Brea fended the attackers off, but it was clear that the Phaeston rifle Adam had given her was constantly on the brink of overheating.

Jensen attempted to hack into one of the Copleys, but it was for naught: they were not networked, operating independently from one another. That surprised him, as they were very well coordinated nonetheless.

Unless something changed the flow of battle, they would not last the next five minutes, let alone another twenty-five.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Zaeed could smell the paycheque coming. He had managed to sneak onto the roof the enemy snipers had taken roost in. He set one of his inferno grenades to cluster mode: one toss, and the target, the bogey, and the bitch would roast to d—<p>

_**YOUR FRIENDS ARE GOING TO KILL YOU**_

"The hell?" muttered the Turian. "Who—"

_**THEY WORK FOR VIDO**_

Vido. The name made Zaeed see red. It made sense. The money was too good, and one less part to share meant a bigger paycheque for everyone. Plus, Vido always lined palms with good silver.

_**FUCK THEM BEFORE THEY FUCK YOU**_

"Yeah... Yeah..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>And just like that, the tide turned, if only a little. Some of the mercs, to Garrus' astonishment, started using those grenades on their friends, and while Garrus hoped it would turn into a free for all amongst them, it did not turn out that way: The traitors were swiftly dealt with with machine gun fire. Still, more than half of the mercs had fallen by then, and for a moment, Garrus thought they were going to make it.<p>

Once again, he was wrong. The Blacklight Elites joined the fray, and true to Ramsus' word, they were packing better firepower.

"Adam!" called Garrus over the Team COM. "You doing okay down there?"

_"Fire..."_ came the reply. Adam's breath came through a bit ragged. _"Too much... fire."_

The battlefield had indeed turned into an inferno. Many of the traitorous mercs had decided to go out in a blaze of glory, and wound up detonating the incendiary grenades of their former comrades. Adam was surrounded by intense flames. Copleys jumped though them, intent on killing him at close range. Adam countered by slashing them apart with his vibro-blade, wielding it with both hands instead of keeping it moored on his arm.

He was not paying attention to his shields, and they were fading fast.

Garrus checked his weapon. The power-cell read 4.75 percent. Not enough to keep sniping, but enough power to carve up a few enemies with the blade mode. Maybe even salvage a weapon with a full ammo block.

"Brea, I'm going in!"

"What?!"

"You hold the fort, I'm going after Adam!" Garrus activated his jets and jumped from cover to cover to rescue his partner.

"God damn you Vakarian!" screamed Brea, as she fired her heavy pistol into the skull of an incoming mercenary. She quickly took his grenades, and tossed a live one down a ladder. The screams told her she had taken out at least three others.

"Give me my weapons!" shouted Ramsus over the din of gunfire.

"No!"

"If I die here what's the point?! Your mission will fail!"

"Don't care!"

Ramsus looked at her, digging through her emotions as she aimed her rifle at the foe closest to Adam and opened fire.

"He's going to die!"

"Shut up!" Brea shouted right back. He shot the legs out of a merc approaching Vakarian and Jensen with a live grenade, causing him to fall and explode in flames.

"Both Jensen and Vakarian will be overwhelmed! The Blacklight Exo-suits are coming! Arm me! Cut me loose!"

"So you can kill us afterwards?! No!" Brea punctuated her reply by going full auto on a Copley's head. The mech went down, but her Phaeston rifle had gone into emergency cool-down, leaving Vakarian and Jensen to fend off the other two mechs attacking them on their own for an unbearable 5 seconds. Besides her was the case with Ramsus' equipment, almost begging her to be used.

The Blacklight Exo-suits burst through the roof, and two of them had locked on to Jensen and Vakarian, forcing them into cover that rapidly deteriorated under the hail of Gatling gun fire.

"You came all this way yourself," Ramsus continued, "armed with too little, your blood screaming at you of the danger of this place! Are you going to let something as banal as men with guns take him away from you?!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Garrus fired Cryo Blasts from his suit's built in Omni-Tool, hoping to put out some of the flames that surrounded them. It worked: the cryogenic chemicals put a stop to the incendiary gel's chemical reaction. Adam's fear began to subside, and with renewed focus he easily sliced an incoming Copley in two, exposing its OVO cell. Adam grabbed it from the open metallic torso and squeezed it, the power surging back into the suit. He pulled the same trick again, only this time he used the excess energy to recharge Garrus' suit and weapon. It was not by much, but it would keep him in the fight a bit longer.<p>

"Thanks, pal!"

The Exo-suits burst through the floor, and kept their distance using jump jets and zero-friction skates. They covered each other even as they kept Jensen and Vakarian suppressed: Jensen found that out the hard way when he Zero-shifted atop the nearest one, only to receive machine gun fire almost immediately before he could stab the pilot. His shields had gone out just before he Zero-shifted away back into cover.

Before Adam could formulate a plan, the nearest Exo-suit was suddenly wrapped in a red aura and floated up helplessly, firing its heavy gatling gun wildly. In an instant, the 1-ton mech suit was compressed into a ball the size of a melon. When the dark energy field faded, the metal ball fell on the cement floor with a loud _klang, _and blood flowed out of it.

"Aw, crap..." said Garrus. "Brea..."

"Brea let Ramsus loose," Adam finished. "Goddamnit..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A red sword streaked across the battlefield and pierced the chest of the second nearest Exo-suit. It was wrapped in a Warp field that bypassed the shields completely, ate away at the armour, and the flesh beneath it. Using it as a dark energy beacon, Ramsus reached out for it and Displaced himself towards it and grabbed the handle. He slashed the armour open and reached in, tearing out the pilot's heart.<p>

A seam cracked over the Nyx helmet, lined up with Ramsus' mouth, revealing a set of metal teeth. The teeth, in turn, opened to reveal a small crescent of white teeth. Ramsus squeezed the heart, making it explode, and some of the splatter made its way onto his waiting tongue. He eyed the mercenaries — lovely bags of flesh and blood ready to be torn apart and _devoured._

"_Gentlemen!" _Ramsus tossed the useless piece of tissue away and took a bow. "_Shall we begin?_"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Oh shit! It's <strong>JACK!<strong>" screamed the remaining Exo-suit wearer as he fired all of his weapons at him. Guns, missiles, _everything. _When Ramsus vanished and reappeared all over the place in short bursts of red light, the pilot shifted his attention towards the two bogeys, who were now turning out to be just as hard to hit now that they were no longer suppressed, even with all the weapons at his disposal.

The blue one would not stop flying around, while the black one was even better at teleporting than Jack. The two of them had sliced and shot apart half the Copley mechs, while Jack took his time to kill — no, _desecrate —_ the mercs. And then there was that _dog _and its damned sword tail. The Blacklight Elites kept their distance, letting the mercs and mechs take the casualties, but even they could not get a bead on the group.

"Sir!" reported the pilot into his mic. Despite all of his training, he just could not contain the terror in his voice. "Jack and the Bogeys won't go down!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Jack and the Bogeys won't go down!"<em>

"Understood!" replied Corvin. "Team 2, move in!"

_"Hurry! The mercs are almost dead, and we've only got eight— make that seven. Copleys left!"_

"Move it!" shouted Corvin as he hurried his last dozen men through the breach in the roof. "This is it, everyone! We're the last wave! We're going to bring the greatest monster since JC Denton himself down to hell with us! What do you say to that, men?!"

"AHOO! AHOO! AHOO!" Corvin's dozen shouted their warcry. Corvin was the last to go into the meat-grinder, and indeed, that butcher Ramsus had been very busy. The flames had kept the blood on the ground warm and wet, causing the soles of his armoured boots to be slick with the stuff.

Hannibal had been the first to engage Corvin's squad. The bestial machine dashed forward and bit into the neck of their point man, and dragged him screaming into a corner, tossing the poor bastard's severed head back at Corvin's feet.

Corvin barked orders. "Stay in formation! Fire teams 2 and 3, keep on the move! Copleys! Form up on me!" Corvin took cover and engaged the Blue Bogey — a turian, of all things! — in a rapid fire sniper duel, using a quick reloading trick with Thermal Clips instead of a heatsink. It was obvious the turian was conserving his shots, while the Blacklight officer had no such handicap. Corvin smiled when he managed to clip one of theBogey's wings, a smile that died when the turian's reprisal cost him a shock trooper. Still, the turian was hunkering down, now, and Corvin refocused his attention on the Black Bogey.

Who had appeared right in front of him in a burst of blue biotic energy.

"Oh, shi—"

The Black Bogey's sword strike was stopped by the HF armblade of a Copley, who was quickly joined by the two other mechs that remained. The three of them engaged the Black Bogey in melee combat. In one second, it had thrown its own HF sword into the chest of one of the mechs. It sprang two arm-blades of its own, and simultaneously stabbed the two remaining Copleys with them as they tried to attack him from both sides.

Corvin took a snap shot into its chest. He had expected it to die right then and there, but its Tech Armor surged to life as soon as the Lieutenant pressed the trigger, blocking enough of the shot to merely knock the Black Bogey on its ass. He lined up a follow-through, but then his shields suddenly dropped. A sniper perched above the main transformer was firing a Phaeston at his head, and Corvin's reply came in the form of a drill shot in the heart. There. That was one less problem to deal with.

The Black Bogey, to Corvin's surprise, did not follow up with an attack, and teleported away, where the sniper fell. No doubt to try and resuscitate him. Oh well, bait was bait, and Corvin lined up another shot, this time aimed at the Black Bogey's head.

**"CORVIN!"**

The Lieutenant felt his forearm being crushed by Hannibal's maw, the T-5 battlesuit's reinforced gauntlets struggling to keep his flesh and bone intact. He dropped the Widow and took out his Eagle pistol, firing three shots point blank into the dog's chest as he sent the suit's actuators into over-drive and bashed the mech against a nearby wall. Hannibal let go and retreated behind cover, and Corvin cursed himself for not managing to hit the blasted thing in the power-cell, or the processor.

He saw Ramsus, a sword in his hand and a fancy gun in the other, leaping like a leaf on the wind from Blacklight Elite to Blacklight Elite, stabbing all three of them in the head, in a way that ensured maximum blood splattering.

"This is for my brother, you bastard!" screamed an Elite, brandishing an HF machete as he ran towards Jack. With grace and speed only possible to a biotic, Ramsus simply danced around the vengeful man, slashing at the back of his knees. When the soldier fell, he shot him in the throat.

Ramsus was just standing there, out of cover, daring everyone to shoot him.

"Focus fire on Jack!" Corvin barked. At that point, nothing else mattered. "**Focus your fire on Jack!"**

When the first bullet hit his shields, Ramsus floated up in a fetal position, surrounded by a bubble of red light. The dark energy barrier absorbed the thousands upon thousands of bullets that impacted against it, turning them into tiny dots of light. "KEEP FIRING!" Corvin screamed. "HE CAN'T KEEP IT UP FOREVER!" One of his Elites threw a bandolier of incendiary grenades, hoping to cook Ramsus in his own bubble. It did not quite work: the flames just flowed around the transparent surface.

As more bullets impacted against the shield, Corvin heard a sound coming in from the distance. He smirked: It was the fast approaching roar of the Normandy's engines. Its firepower would crack that shield, easily. He tossed a smoke flare under Ramsus' feet and called for an artillery strike.

As he did so, something started to bother him. The Bogeys. Hannibal. _They were __not__attacking._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"<em>_**Take cover!**__"_ Hannibal warned everyone over the Tactical COM. Adam did as he was told, dragging an unconscious Brea behind a piece of chest high cover. The shot through her heart had caused some nasty blood loss, but she would live.

Adam was not sure what happened next: Ramsus screamed, or roared, or screeched... Adam was not certain, as his voice began to flange halfway through the act. That was when a blast, heralded by a hail of bullets of various calibres and a wave of intense heat, surged out. It lasted for 5 seconds, and for each, Adam feared that he and Brea would cook.

When it was over, Noveria's cold winds washed the heat away and Brea woke, coughing, the sound joining the groans and cries down below.

_**"**_Urgh... what happened?" Brea asked.

"You let Ramsus loose." He helped her up, and they descended on the killing field. Garrus and Hannibal joined them, stepping on the wrecked pieces of building, perforated and roasted corpses, and the burned wounded.

"Oh god... the smell—" muttered Brea.

"Switch to your filters," commanded Adam. "You don't want to remember the smell, trust me."

A Blacklight Elite crawled in front of the group. His armor had melted off here and there. He had opened his helmet's faceplate, hoping for some air. Instead, all he got was a lungful of ash. The soldier hacked, and wheezed, and groaned from the burns, choking back screams.

"Please... Please god have mercy on m—"

Garrus pulled out his Mongoose and shot the wounded soldier twice in the head, granting him a merciful death. "It was too late for him," he explained.

"I know," said Adam, not arguing the point at all. Sooner or later the acid implants would have kicked in. "This... this is why I hate fire."

They kept walking forward, mercy-killing anyone begging for death along the way. For Adam, it was not so much for their sake but for his. The more they moaned in pain, the more he could feel the memory of Fahl and Sunny screaming as the house was devoured by Wildfire.

The worst case had been the last Exo-Suit wearer. Its armor had been mostly intact, sealing the pilot inside as its heat sinks had been overwhelmed. He was still baking inside, the thick armor muffling his screams.

Adam found the Fandango lying nearby, hot, but still functional. He slowly buried it in the Exo-suit's chest, and the screaming stopped with a whimper of relief. Adam thought he heard someone say 'Thank you' from the inside.

Looming above the Blacklight officer was Ramsus, his entire body emanating glowing wisps of blood red smoke. Adam had wanted to blame him for all of this, but he stayed quiet. Quite a few of the corpses here had been his doing, after all.

He should have known this was not going to end well. He should have known that this would not end with his hands clean.

It never did.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Normandy?" Corvin coughed. "Normandy, I need an artillery strike, and now..."<p>

No answer. Corvin looked up in the sky. The SK drones were fleeing. _What had that Mey Leng bitch been doing this whole time?!_ he thought bitterly

The piece of airduct that had shielded Corvin from enough of the damage to leave him mostly alive had been torn from the ground by a burst of Biotic energy from Ramsus' palm, and the wayward AIA assassin approached, standing over the loyal Blacklight Lieutenant.

Ramsus' helmet collapsed, revealing that damnable, effeminate face that hid his true self from the world. He took a deep breath, savouring the scent of death. He wiped blood from his nose, and sniffled.

"The Normandy isn't here for you." Ramsus smiled a little smile, like a young boy who had just figured out a joke nobody else got. "Perhaps it was not wise to threaten the captain of a frigate with the death of his and his crew's loved ones, yes?"

His leg was missing, and his skin had fused with the Battlesuit's underlay, but Corvin fought through the agony and levelled his Eagle Pistol, taking aim for Ramsus' head.

Ramsus did not stop smirking, staring back with his pale amber eyes. He pointed his index finger at a spot on his forehead, daring Corvin to take his shot.

Corvin pulled the trigger. The gun went into cool-down mode, and the sudden drop in temperature made the gun's circuits explode in a burst of sparks. Its lights died. Ramsus would live.

"You... you fucking _murderer_..." Corvin spat as he dropped his arm.

"Oh please, you tried to kill me first."

"L-39..."

"Where you tried to kill me first there too!" Ramsus chuckled. "And as for Lawson... well, he expected me to simply march to my death. To kill to save one-self is not murder, Corvin."

"You... murdered 12 women..."

"For the sake of my nation — _our_ nation. Is that not heroism?"

"You... cut up Lawson... Kelly West... for..."

"For..." Ramsus suddenly laughed out loud. "Well, alright, that was for _fun._ But at least I will always own up to it._What about you, Corvin? _Do you still think the innocents you've murdered had to die for the sake of the greater good?"

Ramsus kicked Corvin in the head, and the darkness took the old soldier.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus faced his 'rescue party', such as it was. He was actually quite impressed with the lot of them, and he knew they would be very useful. As a gesture of good faith, Ramsus threw Corvin's Widow at Vakarian. He then proceeded to clap his hands, in genuine appreciation for their skills at killing. "Well done! Well... done! I honestly didn't think you were going to make it. But... you did a man's work, all of you. I hardly had to do a thing, in the end." He smirked meaningfully at Brea.<p>

Jensen squeezed his fist. "Don't. I don't care about your approval."

"As you wish..." said Ramsus, disappointed. Then again, not everyone shared his appetite for carnage. "Now, where were we?"

The Normandy was approaching slowly, coming over the horizon. The sight of her put Vakarian and Jensen on edge. If they intended to reclaim Ramsus' weapon, that was out of the question now. "Ah yes... Fear not, they are simply here to pick me up."

"How did you—" Garrus was about to ask, but a quick glare from Ramsus and the question died in his throat, the answer now obvious. "Yeah, never mind."

"I am going to board that frigate, and I am headed straight to Dosadi. I would like you to accompany me aboard."

"And then what?" asked Adam. "The crew takes me prisoner?"

Ramsus quirked his eyebrow. "Ah, the bounty!" Ramsus laughed. "Oh please, if I were to ingratiate myself to the Templars, Hannibal would be right cross with me!"

**"That, is an understatement," **growled Hannibal.

"Thanks, but no thanks," reaffirmed Adam.

"Adam, we came all this way..." reminded Brea. "We can't just let him go. He's a wealth of information on the Illuminati. We need him."

"If you want to stay, by all means!" Ramsus held his arms out. "But I do believe the school of Dayaks will be coming back soon. Think you can take them in your current state? Think your pilot will get here in time before they eat you all?"

The question was disingenuous. Of course they could not. They were almost out of ammo. Garrus' energy levels had dropped to 5 percent, and Brea had been shot through the heart. They could not take another fight, not against Dayaks.

"I hate to admit it, but he's got a point..." said Garrus. His tone became suspicious. "Of course, that doesn't explain why he just doesn't _make_ us come along."

Ramsus was silently looking at the reason: Jensen. He could _see_ him, but apparently he had fended off something far older and more terrible, something almost as powerful as Annah. He could push into Brea and Vakarian's minds, but Jensen? Jensen would know, and he would not take it well.

Ramsus had to admit, he was not sure if he could take him. His thoughts were a mystery to him.

"I could, yes, but I prefer to simply convince people. It's less stressful. So. What will it be? The Normandy is fast approaching..."

"...Fine," agreed Adam, after weighing his options. "But I'm going in quietly." He cloaked. "If you betray us, Ramsus, I _guarantee_ you won't see me coming."

Ramsus smiled. This was going to be so much fun, he could tell.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Holy shit," said Jacob Taylor as the ramp opened and slid down on the ruined roof. Fires were still burning atop concrete and flesh. There were bullet holes everywhere. "I can't even begin to imagine what went down, here."<p>

"I can," said Anderson, wearing little else against the cold than his Alliance Naval uniform, a cap, and body armour. "The pirates of the Blitz left a lot of destruction in their wake."

"This is nothing compared to Eden Prime," commented Ashley, "But it's close... Wait, are those Copleys?"

"Yep," confirmed Jacob. "I guess Blacklight rented them? Not cheap, though. Weird... most of those have been sliced open."

Standing in the middle of the carnage were three people, accompanied by a dog-shaped mech. The turian, standing almost two meters tall, was the most noticeable of the bunch with his power armor with the nacelles on his back. He carried a giant Omni-Blade in his left hand and a Widow Anti-Materiel rifle by the strap in the other. He was the heavy hitter of the group, no doubt. The tall woman looked like her parka had seen better days, and was the least armed and armoured of all. How she had survived this battle, Anderson had no idea.

They were both masked, and stood on each side of a lanky man wearing a sculpted hardsuit that Anderson had never seen before. He carried a sword on his hip, of all things, and a cut down carbine on his thigh. That one was unmasked, his collapsed helmet little more than a strip around his jaw and the back of his head.

The trio approached, the dog obediently following behind them. Ramsus took a fancy, gallant bow. Jacob and Ashley saluted in response. Anderson stood there, Lancer in hand.

"Permission to come aboard, O Captain my Captain?" said Ramsus, almost lyrically.

"Who are they?" said Anderson, having no time for this bullshit.

"Hirelings," replied Ramsus after a moment's consideration. "Very good at their jobs, and very docile, I assure you. I'm sure you have lots of questions, but for now they must wait. The Geth are here for a VIP, and—"

"He's in Dosadi, is that it?"

"...What?" Ramsus was taken by surprise, so much so that he failed to dig into Anderson's mind to figure out what he meant. "Explain yourself!"

"The Geth attacked Dosadi in full force hours ago! If your VIP is in there, then he's not long for this world."

"No... she _lives_. Rescuing her will make the Geth abandon their attack."

"Sounds like a suicide mission to me! The Geth have close to fifty warships and hundreds of fighters all over the Arcology."

"Suicide missions are what I do best, Captain. The sooner we leave, the more likely we'll succeed!"

And with that, Ramsus and his hirelings boarded the Normandy. As Jacob pressed the button to close the ramp and was about to activate the decontamination field, he felt a tingle in his teeth and a shiver down his spine. "What the..."

"What is it?" asked Williams.

"...It's probably nothing," said Jacob. "Probably the cold wind."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Mey Leng stood atop a snowy peak, hiding her presence from the other psychic as she watched as the frigate flyoff with Adam in her belly. She commanded a missile strike on the Bio-Labs, and felt someone scream Ramsus' name in fury. Ah, Corvin. A passionate man. It was a shame that he would burn along with everything else.<p>

A Dayak slowly approached her from behind, teeth bared...

And nestled its head under her arm, allowing itself to be caressed. After scratching its eyestalk, she dismissed it, and commanded the Stormcrow drone plugged into her back lift her up, and a red aura surrounded her body. Soon other Dayaks flew around her in orbit, who were in turn joined by a school of fifty Crow drones, all making that ear-splitting, warbled cawing sound.

Layer upon layer of the creatures moved around Mey, in opposing orbits, flowing like whirlpools of black metal and red flesh. Their element zero nodes flared in unison, creating a powerful mass-lightening and kinetic field, and sent her charging forward towards the Alliance frigate.

_Now it's my turn to play._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Tune in within the next month for the thrilling conclusion!... I've been told I said this all the way back in Chapter 36 but I swear, I mean it this time! The next chapter won't get posted until the Battle of Noveria is concluded... So we might be looking at a 20k one, folks.<br>**_


	46. Chapter 41: Noveria — Finale

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

**Chapter 41**: The Battle of Noveria part 5

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>EU Colonel Nicholas Gadolt is voiced by Nicholas Boulton<em>

_Urdnot Wreav is voiced by Jason Momoa_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Early Author's Notes:<strong>_

_**Kept you waiting, huh?**_

_**Well, I promised this arc would end with this chapter, and I have kept my word. Only, it took a long time to write this one, and it's as big as two chapters. I hope you like text, because this one's packed with 64,000 words, enough to fill up a novella.  
><strong>_

_**Translated French is, as always, at the end of the chapter. A suggestion? Open this fic in a separate window and scroll to the bottom. Trust me, going back and forth would take too long.**_

_**The German is coming at you courtesy of Google Translate. So blame that mega-corporation if it sounds a little stiff.**_

_**Spell check by WarpObscura, who has my special thanks for constantly fixing my typos. Some format and punctuation fixes by Yikari.  
><strong>_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>CODEX ENTRY: TECHNOLOGY: ILLEGAL: NANOMACHINERY: <strong>_

_**UNIVERSAL CONSTRUCTOR**_

_A Universal Constructor, or Molecular Assembler, or a Nano-Factory, is an immense machine that uses nanites to rearrange substances to on the molecular and atomic level, essentially being able to create any possible physical entity from any other entity, as long as the machine has enough power to operate. M__illions of atoms could be arranged by an UC on arrays and constructed at once, so entities multiple meters tall can be constructed in a matter of seconds: Mechs, tanks, starships, and even animals could be made in a matter of seconds._

_During the drafting of the first version of the Citadel Conventions, the concept of the Universal Constructor was to be included in the Tier 2 definition of Weapons of Mass Destruction by the Asari, due to their strong concerns for the destructive potential of nanomachines, Earth, for example, had suffered a major catastrophe that nearly destroyed their ecosystem caused by the rampant Nanomachines of several malfunctioning UCs that spread around their planet._

_The many states of the Terminus Systems have no such conventions, although they have learned a bitter lesson several times over: the inevitable destruction of several of their worlds due to Grey Goo incidents have left even the most ambitious Terminus dictator hesitant to try to fund the creation of an UC. The Turanic Kingdoms, however, are rumored to be experimenting with the technology._

_An addendum was added that constructing a UC in any environment would have legal consequences comparable to withholding Prothean artifacts._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Normandy<strong>_

_"Ladies and gentlemen,"_ said Joker over the Normandy's intercom, with disingenuous enthusiasm, _"we're about to go on a low-orbit cruise in 5 minutes, and because of our brush with the One Ring the inertial dampers may fail and not soak in all the turbulence and acceleration, so please secure your shit. ETA to Dosadi is 20 minutes. That's all."_

After a quick briefing and an even quicker (and rather unsatisfying) meal composed of a protein block and a calorie-rich vitamin shake for biotics, Ramsus had excused himself to the cargo bay, and stood over the stasis pod that preserved the corpse of one of the three women that had defined him. His mother had created him. Annah had saved him. Junko had freed him.

And now Junko was dead.

Two out of three. The third was in peril at this very moment.

And yet, despite seeing the evidence for himself, he still felt as though Shepard was close, watching over him. But there was no Junko, he knew. Only Jensen, shadowing him, watching his every move for a hint of betrayal. Ramsus smiled. It would be simple to betray him, and profoundly stupid. The ship could not take the inevitable confrontation.

And Adam would be useful, far more useful than a bunch of grunts.

Speaking of grunts, Ramsus felt one of them approach from behind. The woman in the Phoenix hardsuit was about to salute, but Ramsus was in no mood for protocols.

"What do you want?" he asked, without looking at her.

"Er... Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, sir!" replied the soldier. Ramsus could hear the shifting of boots, and disturbed air caressing the back of his head. A quick salute.

"Well, I'm sure this Williams is a very lucky man," quipped Ramsus. Of course he knew who the soldier was, but sometimes Ramsus just could not help himself. "Go after him, and leave me to my memories of Shepard," he said. Perhaps he was not commanding enough, because she was still there, much to his annoyance.

"You knew her?" asked Williams.

"In every sense of the word," replied Ramsus, as he put a hand on the black, casket-shaped pod. He closed his eyes, and for a moment he was no longer in the Normandy's hold, but in that hot, damp, dark space within the metal depths of the SSV Kilimanjaro. "I remember everything about her," he said as he replayed that wild moment with her. "The smell of her black hair, the curve of her back, the softness of her pale skin... the feeling of her teeth on my neck..."

_Jun, don't leave me..._

_I'm sorry... you're not what I need in my life..._

Ramsus withdrew his hand, remembering that in the end she had chosen him. Kaidan. The _bore. _He tried to take some sort of delight in the fact that Alenko had died ignobly, but the fact of the matter was that he had joined Junko in death. Rage built up inside of Ramsus, and he let it out in the form of a brief red aura of dark energy. Alenko would have Junko in death for all eternity. Ramsus withdrew the flower from his leg pack and stared at it, sorely tempted to use it, to take her away from him forever...

_No._

It was much too late. He knew better than to try. He chuckled to himself: He wasn't even sure how the blasted thing worked, really.

Williams shifted uncomfortably, as she was under the mistaken impression he was saying those things for her benefit. "To answer your question, sir, I want—"

Her hesitation was beginning to get on his nerves. "Out with it, _woman_."

"I've heard you're planning a rescue mission, and I would like to be part of your squad."

Ramsus turned around, and fixed her with his gaze. "You want to join Blacklight."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ashley Williams had some specific and somewhat lofty standards when it came to men. Men should be tall. Men should be buff. Men should look tough, with a chiseled face. Men should maintain simple, clean haircuts. Men, in other words, should be manly.<p>

Lieutenant Johann Ramsus was not manly. He was tall, but lanky. The pale blonde hair that flowed out of his collapsed helmet was too long and too wavy, nearly past regulation length. His face was a soft, smooth oval with a small chin, covered in perfect, pale skin. His mouth was a bit small, the top lip a cupid's bow.

Ramsus looked too much like a girl for Ashley's tastes.

But as he turned around and fixed his gaze on her, as he narrowed his two pale amber eyes (a colour that suddenly reminded Ash of the sight and scent of wood shavings in her father's garage), Ashley had to suppress a gasp.

"You want to join Blacklight," he said, with a shockingly deep voice, with a pitch and frequency that made something inside her resonate. It took a moment for her to muster a response.

"No, I—" she was interrupted by the low growl of the dog mech, as it uncloaked at her feet. It curled itself around her legs, not quite touching them. Its tail seemed to float around her as the dog circled. She wondered if Ramsus was testing her, and she decided to rise to the challenge. She would not be intimidated.

"I have no intention of joining Blacklight, sir," she said, firmly. "I think I my talents can serve humanity best elsewhere. Working for the first human Spectre is right up my alley."

"I am not a Spectre yet."

"Do you doubt you will be?"

Ramsus smiled, and dismissed the mechanical hound with a gesture. He crossed his arms, appraising Williams, then spoke again: "I have questions for you."

"Of course, and I'll answer them, sir."

"...Is there anything you would not do for those you love?"

"Nothing, sir. Humanity and my family deserve my 100 percent."

"...Would you surrender, for their sake?"

"You mean... am I susceptible to blackmail, sir? The answer is no."

"Would. You. Surrender?" Ramsus insisted.

Williams jaw was set. This was about Shanxi. "No, I would never surrender. You _never_ surrender."

"Then you are useless to me." Ramsus turned his back on Williams, returning to his mediation upon the pod.

"... what?" That was not the answer Williams expected.

"I have no use for you. I have a team. They are more than enough for the task that is to come."

"You... you'd take a _Turian _and some _bimbo_ with you on a sensitive mission for the _Alliance_?" Williams was on the verge of screaming at the lieutenant. "They're _mercenaries_! You said so yourself!"

Ramsus sighed. "I trust the judgement and motivations of these mercenaries far more than I trust the ones of a self-obsessed, racist opportunist who deludes herself of what she is with notions of family honour and patriotism."

"How..." Ashley became outraged. "How dare you?! You don't know anything about me!"

"I know all I need to know from you, and what I know _bores_ me."

At that point Williams wanted nothing more than to bury her fist into Ramsus' face. Reason reined in her fury: punching out a superior officer would send her career down the toilet. Through gritted teeth, she forced these words out: "Am I dismissed, sir?"

Ramsus said nothing, not looking at her at all. Taking his silence as his answer, Ashley turned around to leave. She had taken three steps away when Ramsus spoke again. "Williams," he said. She found herself stopping, and braced herself for more abuse.

"Nobody cares about your name. _Nobody ever did_. It's your attitude that keeps you from greatness."

His tone was soft, and gentle, almost as if he cared. Ashley walked away, no longer sure what to think of Johann Ramsus.

Or what to feel.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus smiled inwardly. He liked to play hot and cold with women. It made them more delicious. He knew he probably would not have time to bed Williams, but one never knew...<p>

_"What the hell was that for?" _Adam transmitted sub-vocally.

Ramsus closed his helmet and opened a Codec channel to Jensen. _"Giggles, mostly," _was his reply. _"Also she hates dogs and loves poetry. I love dogs!... and I _hate _poetry."_

_"And the whole 'You are useless to me' bit?"_

_"She claims to be willing to do anything for those who she loves, and she backpedals at surrendering. I don't like hypocrites, either. I'd fuck one, but that's it."_

_"As if _you _would surrender?"_ accused Adam. _"You don't seem like the type."_

_"Ah, you flatter me..." _replied Ramsus, jokingly. Then, his tone became serious. _"You would be wrong. I surrendered, once, for the sake of the one I love."_

_"...There's a story behind that, isn't there?"_

_"There is... but we haven't go__t__ the time to go into that right now. Your batteries must be getting low: you've been cloaked a long time."_

_"...Maybe they are."_

_"Don't be coy. Stop shadowing me and recharge your cells. I want you ready for battle when we reach Dosadi. __Neither Saren's__ forces nor Scholar's will willingly let us approach their prize."_

_"...Fine, but don't go anywhere."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Twelve percent. That was how much juice he had left, and it was dwindling a little too fast at 1 percent per minute. Adam hated to admit it but Ramsus had a point. He needed a power source, and fast.<p>

_"Garrus, does the Normandy have any spare power-cells around?"_ he asked sub-vocally via Codec. _"I need to top up my energy."_

It took a moment for Garrus to reply. _"They had a couple of replacement OVO cells for their Mako. They lost it a while back, so I'm using one to replace the busted one in my nacelle and swapping the other one's gel in my C-mag. Sorry."_

_"Damn."_

_"I think the mess hall's got a few candy bars, though."_

_"Yeah, that's not going to cut it."_

_"...You could go to engineering, and pull that energy draining trick on a spare battery or a power conduit?"_

_"Hm... I think I'll try that, thanks."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the helm, Joker had gone through the checklist. They were ready to break atmo. While the Normandy was a fast ship thanks to its oversized element zero core, the fact remained that under atmospheric conditions, the ship could barely reach Mach 3. Crossing the six thousand kilometres from Peak 15 to Dosadi would take an hour, forty minutes and change. Going in and out of the stratosphere, however, would make the trip a lot shorter.<p>

"Going full burn," he announced. At first the Normandy rose up without any problem, but its hull gradually shook more and more. "Damned Turian aerodynamics!" he swore under his breath. One would think that aliens descended from birds would be able to design a better plane. Apparently, one would be wrong. Joker pressed the intercom button and set it to engineering. "Hey, Addams! Those inertial dampers aren't working right! Can you correct?"

_"Addams here. The inertial dampers read fine!"_

Joker swore as he levelled the ship's pitch and lowered the throttle. "Then why the hell is the turbulence getting worse?!"

_"Well slow down, then!"_

"I AM slowing down! It's still getting worse! What the—"

"Holy shit!" swore Draven at her Sensor Station, and she hit the intercom and set it for the bridge. "We've got a swarm of Bogeys on our six o' clock! It came out of nowhere! Dark Energy readings are... the output's bigger than the Normandy's!"

"What?! There's no way that's possible!"

"It is!" The Normandy shook even harder. "It's disrupting our Mass Effect field!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a dark, unseen corner of the Normandy's drive core room, Adam was about to grab hold of a live power conduit —something that, really, no sane man should ever do— when he started hearing a voice in his head.<p>

[Drakengard 3 DLC OST - Seere's Prayer]

_**Adaaaaam...**_

Adam recognized the voice immediately. Mey Leng, he thought.  
><em><strong><br>Did you forget about me? I'm hurt, Adam... I think about you all the time...**_

The ship shook, and the alarm came on."Aw, crap."

Don't worry, soon all you'll be able to think about is ME!

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"We've got more than sixty contacts, packed together<em>_, __all drone-sized!" _Draven reported. "A_nd... what the hell are those?!"_

"Give me a visual!" commanded Anderson, who was standing on the dais overlooking the CIC's holographic pit. The galaxy map fizzled out into a vid window that showed a swarm of drones in the shape of a swirling sphere. Inside, Anderson could make out things that looked suspiciously like... like...

_"Are those sharks?!" _said Joker, disbelieving. As soon as he said that, the creatures burst from the sphere and surrounded the Normandy. Anderson knew an attack when he saw one, and did not hesitate to respond.

"Activate the GARDIAN system! Shoot those things out of my sky!"

"Aye Aye, sir!" Joker whooped when the lasers came online and two of the creatures blinked out of the radar._"That's right! Eat lasers, you.. you... oh shit."_

"What's happening?!" asked Anderson, barking. From the grinding noises that resonated through the hull, it was not hard to figure out the answer.

_"The sharks are eating the laser guns,"_ came Joker's sullen reply. _"Aw, this... is not good."_

The hologram shifted to a status window of the Normandy. Someone had forced an airlock near the cargo bay.

_"Sir! This is Williams! The Turian mercenary just forced open an airlock and jumped ship!"_

"What?!"

"New contact! High thermal signature, no IFF! It's... I think it's attacking the creatures!"

"Give me a visual!"

A vid window came on: The IMREC cams were tracking, of all things, a flying Turian. The plasma thrusters under his nacelles were going at full burn, keeping up with the Normandy with no problem. He was carrying two weapons in each hand: a Widow and what looked like a light machine gun. The creatures stopped chewing on the Normandy's hull to attack him.

"Give him support! Launch the drones!" ordered Anderson.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Dayak flew right at Garrus, its maw wide open, ready to devour him. A single shot from the Widow broke its Barrier down, while a follow up with the modified Longinus took care of the body. The bright purple beam cut the creature in two. One down. Six to go.<p>

_Wait a minute. Did I just kill a flying shark by dual-wielding two anti-materiel rifles? Whilst flying at Mach 2 at high altitude?_

_Yes._

_Yes I did._

_SO going to rub that in Grey's f— OH CRAP!_

Garrus had little time to savor that one little victory. His grin faded when the rest of the Dayaks attacked him and the defense drones the Normandy had launched to help him. The four of them did not last long, though one managed to explode inside a Dayak's belly, taking it down with it. Garrus executed the Widow-and-Longinus combo on another Dayak, leaving a total of four of the creatures. As he tried to line up another combo, a dozen of the flying mechs broke off from that swirling black sphere and proceeded to fire missiles at him.

The Longinus, in machine gun mode, took care of those, but the drones fired another full salvo of 84 missiles at Garrus in reprisal. Garrus took evasive action, a task made a bit more difficult with both hands wielding anti-materiel rifles.

At that point Garrus regretted not letting Hein fit chaff launchers in the suit. _I didn't think I'd even need them!_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"LAUNCH CHAFF!" <strong>_barked Anderson at a crewman.

"Launching chaff!" replied the crewman as soon as he punched the haptic button.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Mercifully, the Normandy's own countermeasures were launched, completely throwing off the missiles. Some of them hit the hull, but the light frigate's shields took the blast. Garrus sighed in relief. He would not have to completely empty his gun's energy cell so soon after replenishing it. That was good.<p>

What was not so good was that the other Dayaks had taken advantage of the distraction to burrow through the Normandy's hull.

"Oh no..." muttered Garrus in horror as he brought his guns to bear on the nearest Dayak. It died before it could Warp through the armor, but the other three Dayaks managed to enter the ship. Garrus brought the Normandy up on his Codec, with the vocal scrambler on. _**"Normandy! Ready your marines! You've got boarders coming through near the CIC, the cargo bay, and engineering!"**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Shoot it! Shoot it! Fucking shoot it!" screamed Ashley as she tried to get a bead on the creature, who seemed to swim through the air at alarming speed, bullets bouncing off its barrier.<p>

She was the only marine in the cargo hold in full gear: the rest, like Fredricks, only had fatigues to protect them from the — and Williams still could not believe her eyes — biotic flying shark's obsidian teeth. Fredricks had been the first to fall when the creature had practically melted its way through the hull. Poor bastard had his arm Warped off when it grazed him.

The requisition officer had been next and was now lying in a pool of his own blood, his head bitten off. His fancy guns had not helped him. Where was the great Johann Ramsus, Williams wondered? No doubt cowering in the elevator, she concluded.

Williams knew it was now her turn, as it seemed that the ravenous demon was now staring at her. **"MEAT,"** it said, its mouth unmoving.

"You want me?! You want me?!" Ash screamed in defiance, as the Marksman Omni-Tool app surrounded her Lancer and nearly doubled its rate of fire even as it kept it steady. "Come and get me!" Williams' Lancer vomited hundreds of bullets at the creature as it opened its gaping mouth and dashed forward at her. The weapon overheated, having done nothing to stop what was to come. Williams fell backwards, her heart gripped with the sudden terror of knowing that she was going to die — childless, and with no one to carry on the tradition! Her life flashed before her eyes as the jaws snapped shut, over, and over again.

She could not feel anything. Was she dead?

It took her a moment to realize that she was not being eaten, even as the floating creature desperately snapped its jaws at her. Behind it Ramsus' mech dog had bitten the red shark's tail, its metal claws digging deep into the floor, serving as an anchor. Ramsus' other mercenary, the woman, casually stepped up to the shark and punched it repeatedly into submission, the muscles in her arm suddenly bulging with each strike, until its barriers finally broke and its head had been thoroughly flattened between the cargo bay floor and her open palm. Its eyes popped out, and brains poured out of the sockets. At least, Williams thought it was brains: some of the stuff was on her armour.

_**"Bimbo, am I?"**_ said the woman scornfully, her voice warped by a vocalizer in her helmet, her face obscured by a golden polarized visor. Whatever thoughts of gratitude Ashley had, they had been chased away, making way for the realization that she had been saved by a machine, and whatever that woman was...

"You're not human," Williams said as she picked herself up. "You can't be."

_**"You say that like it's a bad thing." **_The woman shrugged.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The CIC was caught up in a screaming panic. Only Joker and Anderson were keeping it together. The helmsman, focused on keeping the ship flying even as dark energies tried to crush it, and the captain by taking a piece of guardrail and smacking it across the flying hammerhead shark's head.<p>

"GET! OFF! MY! SHIP!" Anderson screamed, punctuating every word with a rail strike. The creature, annoyed, grabbed the rail with its teeth and tossed Anderson aside. Just as it was about to move in for the kill, the creature began to contort as its body became wrapped up in red pulses of dark energy. It exploded in a shower of gore, splashing over both Anderson and Ramsus. The AIA assassin offered his hand to the captain.

"What the hell kept you?!" growled Anderson even as Ramsus helped him get back up.

"Your _elevator,_" Ramsus shot back.

_"Sir, there's a new contact, coming on our six o'clock high!" _reported Draven. "_It's... It's the Copperhead! It's coming in hot!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>On Garrus' word, Neil opened fire on that sphere of biotic energy attacking the Normandy. He was not exactly keen on rescuing the ship that had tried to kill him, but attacking those bogeys certainly beat shadowing the Normandy. Much to Neil's surprise, Garrus had already downed a few of the drones attacking him, and whistled in admiration: Stormcrows were no joke, especially in groups. Neil himself had fought Syndicate drones that were almost as vicious in a Havoc gunship.<p>

_"Focus on the big one!"_ Garrus had commanded over the Codec, after the twelve drones harassing them were dealt with.

"Roger that!" The Copperhead's nose-mounted machine gun spat a stream of hyper-velocity slugs at the drone swarm. It was not exactly hard to hit, but from the little bursts of dark energy that appeared with every hit, it was obvious to the pilot that the gun was doing no damage at all. Garrus fared no better with his two guns. "The hell?!"

_"I know!"_ shouted Garrus in his mic. _"I think the swarm is synchronizing their Eezo cores to create a super powerful biotic field! Nothing gets through it!"_

"I don't suppose A— I mean SHADOW can work his tech wizardry on them?"

_"Good question! Hey! Partner! Do you read?!"_

_"Hold on!"_ Adam replied, and the loud report of his revolver came through the channel. Shotgun blasts erupted in the background. _"Okay, that's one problem dealt with! What now?!"_

_"We got a swarm of drones out here! Can you Breach them?"_

_"Let me check... I don't detect any drone signals!"_

"Then how in the fuck are they coordinating?!" shouted Neil in disbelief.

_"Psionically, of course," _said a smooth, deep voice over the Codec.

"Who the fuck is this?!" replied Neil, more than a bit confused.

_"Ramsus, how about working some of that brain magic against that swarm, then?!" _barked Garrus.

_Magic? Ramsus? What the fuck is going on?_ Neil wondered, as the Copperhead suddenly became unstable. His HUD reported anomalies in the craft's mass-lightening field, and he promptly shut it down as he increased the engines' output. Ah, the wonders of aerodynamics.

_"I can't," _replied Ramsus. _"Whoever is controlling that swarm is shielding himself too well," said Ramsus. "That bubble of dark energy he's wrapped in is too strong. I can't focus on __him__."_

Completely ignoring Neil and Garrus' gunfire, the swarm, which now looked a lot like a giant black eye, slowly moved from the aft of the Normandy to its bow. Lightning crackled between it and the Normandy's hull as it moved, and intensified when it floated right in front of it. The swarm widened just a bit, just enough to reveal the core.

Neil zoomed in with his helmet and blinked. It was a woman.

"What the hell?" said Joker as the swarm parted to reveal a woman attached to one of the Stormcrows, just floating there like she was some sort of dark angel of death. Nowhere on her did he see anything remotely large enough to generate a Mass Effect field powerful enough to keep up with the Normandy. "Cap'n! It's... she's right in front of us!"

Anderson's response was immediate. _"Main gun, load Tungsten! Joker! Keep us steady!"_

"Aye aye!" replied Joker as his fingers furiously tapped the helm's haptics. "I mean, it's not like I've been doing this for the past five minutes or anything!"

_"Tungsten loaded!"_ reported the Gunnery officer. _"Ready to fire!"_

_"Fire on Joker's mark!"_

Joker grinned wickedly. If anyone was going to be so stupid as to attack a frigate with a spinal mount railgun and then float right in front of it, then they deserved what was about to hap—

**BEHOLD THE POWER OF THOSE TOUCHED BY THE REAPERS, MY SWEET ADAM, AND KNOW THAT YOU CANNOT FIGHT THEM**

A woman's voice — THAT woman's voice — echoed inside Joker's head. It was almost worse than the cloaking psychosis in its intensity alone; it felt like a spider scratching the walls of bone inside of his skull as it devoured the soft, moist flesh inside of it. The woman then opened her mouth, and from the opening came a unearthly sound — or a song? — Joker could not tell. Glowing purple circles, with odd letters and symbols, appeared in front of her. Whatever the hell she was doing, it could not be good.

Joker lined up a shot and shouted: "FIRE!"

The tungsten core steel slug flew out of the Normandy's mouth, the friction igniting the air as it streaked towards its target. Joker had expected the winged woman to explode. Instead, the slug stopped dead in the middle of the circle of symbols. The woman sang louder, and the slug disintegrated in blobs of dark energy.

"That's... that's just not fair," muttered Draven, despairing.

Anderson's voice came through the intercom. _"Joker! Draven! Report!"_

Joker could barely process what had just happened. "Direct hit. No damage..." he said, knowing that whatever this woman was, it could not be human.

It just couldn't be.

The winged woman sang louder, and an orb of black energy gathered in front of her. Unless someone pulled a miracle out of their ass, Joker knew they were all fucked.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Where did that noise come from?!" said Engineer Addams, having never heard the report of a high-powered revolver shot before. His ears had been ringing.<p>

"Does it matter?" said Lieutenant Taylor, as he checked his Eviscerator Shotgun. He had managed to put a dent in the creature's Barrier with a Warp before it fizzled out completely. Then, all of a sudden, it froze all over, allowing Taylor to finish it off with his gun. "I'm just glad it's dead. Thanks for the Cryo Blast, by the way."

"That wasn't me!"

As Lieutenant Taylor and Engineer Addams pondered the question of what exactly had made the creature freeze, Jensen, hidden from view, took the empty bullet casings out of Sasha, pocketed them, and slotted some live ammo in its chambers. Among the empty casings was one of the few remaining bullets Sandal had made for Jensen. It was a Cryo round, as it turned out, and a very potent one at that.

_"Shoot it! Shoot it!" _shouted Garrus over their Codec channel.

_"I am! Nothing's getting through!" _replied Neil.

_"What's going on now?!"_ asked Adam, sub-vocally.

_"We've got a singularity aimed point blank at our bow," _said Ramsus. _"I don't need to explain what will happen once it hits the ship, do I?"_

Adam was annoyed at Ramsus' apparent calm. _"Can't we dodge?"_

_"...No," _replied Ramsus. "_We're surrounded by a biotic field that's countering the ship's own Mass Effect field. We can't manoeuvre."_

_"There's got to be something we can do!" _said Garrus, desperately.

_"Any ideas?" _replied Ramsus, calmly.

_"I don't know! Can't we throw something at her?!"_

_"We shot her with the_ main gun_. It didn't work... Gentlemen, while you figure something out, I'll try to delay our inevitable doom. Please don't bother me. Ramsus out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Stand aside," growled Ramsus at the pilot.<p>

"Can't!" protested the pilot, turning around to face him. "I—" Ramsus figured out the problem the second he saw the man's bluish sclera and his leg brace. Annoyed, Ramsus wrapped him in a biotic field, along with his seat, and shoved him into the co-pilot's chair.

"Gah!" the pilot shouted. "What are you doing?!"

"Buying us time!" Ramsus shouted right back as his entire body flared with a red light.

"Singularity's headed straight for us!" screamed the other sailor in the cockpit, a woman.

Ramsus snarled as he held his palms out, glowing bright red. The Singularity came to a relative stop four meters away from the cockpit window, its energies tugging at everyone inside. Ramsus tried to push it back with all his might and his will, but his foe, the woman... something else was behind her will, and it was even greater than his.

Ramsus felt something wet on his lips, and a sting in his nose. He was already starting to bleed.

_No!_ he thought ruefully to himself. _"I can't be killed here! I __**refuse**__!_

He redoubled his efforts. "I REFUSE!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Cloaked and unseen, Adam stood in the middle of Engineering as the handful of technicians frantically tried to keep the ship flying even as its mass effect field became more and more unstable between the swarm's interference and the singularity at the bow.<p>

The situation had become clear to him the moment he had Breached the entirety of the Normandy's wireless network by touching an unattended console: data from myriad systems had been distilled and streamed into his consciousness, taking form in his awareness. It was odd: Adam had not had to disable any WLAN ICE, though he was keenly aware of their presence.

_No._

_This isn't Breaching._

Time froze, and Aleph's voice rang clearly.

_"You are beginning to understand,"_ he said.

_"Yeah... it's like I'm part of the Normandy now. Its cables and circuits don't feel like computers any more... more like nerves, connected to organs."_

_"Energy is essential to any system. Feeling that energy, manipulating its flow... that is what gives you power over machines. This is but a portion of what you gained from the Grimoire on Caleston. This is __**Zio.**__"_

As Aleph uttered the word, Adam realized there was more to it than three letters forming a syllable. The sound itself was laced with an unimaginable number of possibilities and thoughts, a subtle understanding of one of the underlying mechanisms of the universe.

Energy. All things living, all things that move require energy. Start from this element, and anything was possible.

_"I... sort of thought Zio was some kind of attack program. You know, like lightning bolts?"_

_"__**Zio**__ can be used offensively that way, yes, but it is at its best when used subtly. And at the heart of a ship, well... the possibilities are numerous."_

_"Right now? I'd settle for a way to stop Red Raven from killing us all."_

_"Arms?"_

_"Useless. She's too close for a missile lock, the laser guns are out, and the main gun didn't dent her barrier."_

_"Defenses?"_

_"Shields have been shut down to prevent the singularity's eddies from triggering them randomly. Turning them on won't work."_

_"What's stopping the singularity right now?"_

_"Ramsus. He's a biotic, and he's pushing back against it. Won't last long. No weapons, no defenses, and we can't manoeuvre."_

_"You have something better than a gun. This drive core was designed to create mass shadows for the ship to fall into. But these engineers have not even begun to realize the full potential of such a machine."_

_"I can. Ships with Biotics."_

_"Precisely."_

_"Still, Mey Leng is putting out insane amounts of power somehow. I don't think I can match that."_

_"You won't have to. Alif, in the martial arts, what is more effective than stopping a blow, more efficient than stopping a strike with something of equal power?"_

_"...deflection."_

_"I can't stay active much longer, but I think you can handle the rest."_

_"You know, you and I are going to have to talk about appropriate times to show up to provide assistance. There were a couple of times where I could have used your help, and my name's Adam, damnit."_

Silence answered him, and time slowly began to catch up.

_"Oh, this is going to be very annoying," _Adam to himself_. "I can tell."_

Adam removed his hands from the console, and arcs of lightning kept him connected to it and the rest of the ship. He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath.

_"Okay. Let's do this."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The engineers and the lone Marine were shocked by the sudden appearance of a glowing, transparent figure in the middle of the drive core room. Lightning surged out of it, caressing every piece of machinery, including the drive core. The rhythmic pulses of energy became more and more frequent, while the spinning arms that kept the drive core afloat spun faster and faster.<p>

Addams attempted to make sense of what was happening to the machinery, but every single haptic display showed nothing but gibberish, the familiar orange lights making way for alien shapes and glyphs flickering all over too quickly for his eyes and mind to follow.

He found himself wanting to follow, feeling as if every single bit of data that got away from him was an opportunity to grasp something wonderful lost forever.

"Intruder in Engineering!" shouted Jacob in his helmet's microphone as he leveled his Eviscerator at the figure. It was beginning to float towards the core, no doubt to destroy it. With a casual motion of its hand, Jacob was pushed away by an invisible force and flew screaming through the open doorway. The automatic doors locked themselves after him.

Williams, answering Jacob's call, uselessly smashed the butt of her rifle against the doors, while Jacob himself felt like he had just been swatted away like an insignificant insect.

Addams stared at the figure as it reached out for something invisible, and slapped it aside.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside, the Normandy's hull glowed with bright green circuitry. Dots of golden light ran across the paths, flowing together towards the bow. With a flash of light and lightning, the large dark sphere that Ramsus and Red Raven had been fighting over was swatted away.<p>

"Whoa!" shouted Neil as he dove to avoid the incoming ball of dark energy. It exploded harmlessly behind him, half a kilometer away, though the Copperhead still shook a little from the blast wave.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam reached out with both hands, grasping tightly.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The drones broke and dispersed, barely forming a sphere anymore, as if giant fingers had been put into a river, disrupting the flow. Red Raven could no longer maintain the many element zero cores in sync, no matter how loud she sang, no matter how much will she poured of herself into the drones' Krypto chips. In desperation she reached out to the mind of the one doing this, hoping to burn images of fire into his mind to make him stop.<p>

All she found was cold machinery.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam pulled, as if tearing something in two.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The swarm erupted in a burst of lightning and was torn in two. The Storm Crows fell from the sky to the icy surface of Noveria, their wings slack like dead birds, leaving Red Raven unprotected from Neil and Garrus' gunfire. They did not have the chance to put many bullets in her.<p>

The Normandy, no longer bound, began to accelerate, and the bow of the ship rammed her tiny form.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Ooh!" Joker winced at the woman-shaped tangle of limbs that was flattened against the cockpit window. Her helmet was cracked, revealing the face of a beautiful asian woman.<p>

"Mr. Moreau, to your seat," said Ramsus.

"Wha—" Joker and his seat were once again shoved, only this time back into their proper place. "Hey! Stop that! I can move just fine on my own, damn it!"

"No you can't," snorted Ramsus as he wiped blood off his nose. "Now, would you kindly wipe this mess off our windshields?" He pointed at the corpse.

"What do you want me to do?" Joker shot back. "Turn on the wipers?"

"That would be _lovely_, yes."

"Smart-ass," mumbled Joker as he conjured up the haptics from the helm. Instead of the familiar orange glow, the controls were made of green light. "The hell? What happened to the controls?!"

"I have no idea," said Draven. "It's all in English but the config—"

The woman opened her eyes and snarled, blood dripping from her bared teeth.

"OH FUCK OH FUCK OH FUCK!" screamed Joker, surprised and terrified. _Who the hell could survive getting rammed by a FUCKING FRIGATE?!_ he thought to himself, even as he kept swearing.

Ramsus groaned exasperatedly. "The shutters, Mr. Moreau?"

"I'm trying!" Joker tried to get a handle on the new controls, which seemed to shift with his every movement. "Okay, okay... pitch, yaw, roll... throttle?"

One of the woman's arms, which was bent the wrong way, righted itself, and she proceeded to bash her fist against the glass, which began cracking.

"Shit, shit, shit!" swore Joker, still frantically looking for the shutter controls.

"Now, Mr. Moreau!" insisted Ramsus.

"I can't find it, okay?!" snapped Joker.

Ramsus sighed. "Must I do everything myself?" His body flared with an intense red light that gathered around his fist. He drew it back, a little insane smile suddenly appearing on his face.

"Oh shit! No! DON'T DO—"

The powerful biotic Throw smashed right through the thick transparent barrier and into the cyborg woman, knocking both her and the drone attached on her back away. The wind rushed into the cockpit, sending shards and chunks of broken glass into the CIC before the failsafe kicked in, and the metal shutters closed over the broken window.

"You insane psycho!" screamed Joker, who had the presence of mind to duck when Ramsus threw his bolt of kinetic energy. Draven had been just as quick, but pained groaning could be heard further back into the CIC. "Why don't you just take a shotgun to the crew while you're at it?!"

"Oh, do shut up," said Ramsus dismissively, as he turned around to walk away. "This was faster."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Red Raven was furious, and that allowed her to ignore the pain she was feeling. She had been so close, so very close.<p>

Soon, her implants would kick in and she would be better. She would recover, and she would have another chance to make Adam hers, all hers.

She reached out to the Krypto inside her Drone, and switched on her jets. Yes, she would survive this.

Something came closer, she could feel it, something loud, something intense, something... like an Archangel, come from heaven above to bring judgement down on Red Raven, riding on wings of light and wielding a flaming sword.

Or something with plasma jets and a big Omni-Blade.

The Turian flew straight at her and stabbed her in the heart.

Red Raven refused to die, and snarled, as she clawed at the Turian's helmet. She swung wildly with her razor claws, scarring the right side of his helmet. He fought her off with his free hand.

"NO!" she screamed and cried. "NOT YOU! YOU'RE NOT THE ONE THAT KILLS ME! SHE **DIED**! IT CAN'T BE YOU! IT CAN'T!"

The Turian grunted in frustration. "Argh! Just **DIE** already!" He pulled the Omni-Sword out, and stabbed her two more times, but she still refused to die. Deciding that this had gone on long enough, the Turian readied his sword for a swing...

"NOOO!"

"When you reach the lowest level of the seven hells," shouted the Turian, "tell them Garrus Vakarian sent you there!" That was the last thing Red Raven heard as she felt the hot blade slice through her neck. Her severed head fell off, and her body followed after it.

The two parts unceremoniously hit the ice, far below. The snow would eventually cover up the corpse, creating an unmarked grave... And thus ended the life of Red Raven.

Unmourned.

Unloved.

And utterly forgotten.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Joker let out a sigh of relief as the Turian reported that their attacker was certainly, most definitely dead. The helmsman found himself quickly getting used to the new, strangely adaptive controls, and kept the ship level and steady.<p>

INCOMING SIGNAL the console bleeped on the screen. Joker pushed the blinking hologram, and a nasal, male voice came through the speakers.

_"Normandy, this is Copperhead Flight DARPA 01, do you copy? Over."_

After a moment's hesitation Joker replied, realizing that he no longer cared about the Code Black at this point. "Copperhead, this is the Normandy... glad to have you on our wing." He wondered then why a gunship he had tried so hard to kill earlier was giving him help. "You uh... you passing through? Over?"

_"Normandy, Copperhead. I'm... here courtesy of Director Hein. He figured you'd need help, since... since you're putting out such a huge Dark Energy wake. You're lit up like a Christmas tree, you know? Over."_

Joker got the feeling that the Copperhead's pilot was lying, for some reason. Still, he did not want to seem ungrateful. "Roger that, Copperhead. Tell your Director we appreciate the help. Over."

_"How about you show your gratitude by letting my ship go, Normandy?! Over!"_

Joker could feel the Normandy's drive core from his seat, and the sensation kept getting stronger and stronger... "Copperhead, Normandy: what the hell are you talking about?"

_"You got my nav computer slaved to yours! How did— and why the hell is your ship on fire?!"_

"What?!"

_"Your ship is a goddamned green fireball!"_

_"Joker!" _barked the captain over the intercom. _"All hands! Report!"_

_"This is Addams! We__'ve__ got an intruder in the Core Room! It's... it's doing something— it's absorbing energy from the core!"_

"Addams, are you sure?!" shouted Draven, typing frantically at the sensor station. "Because readings on our sensors suggest our cores's working at triple the output!"

"The hell?!" Joker checked his HUD: The core's readouts did not make sense. No, that was not true. He had seen these readings before. "Aw, shit, we're almost at Zero mass!" It became harder and harder to keep the ship from being swept by the strong winds, as the ship's mass approached that of a sheet of paper.

"At this rate we'll reach negative mass in 15 seconds!" reported Draven.

"Joker! Keep the ship steady! Addams! Stop whatever that... that _thing_ is doing!"

**"I'm trying!"** the pilot and the helmsman said in unison.

"10 seconds!"

_"Initiating __e__mergency shutdown of the core!"_

It did not work. The lever would not budge.

"Setting an invalid course!" Joker hoped that the Navcomp's failsafes would kick in and depower the core.

It did not work. The course trajectory was locked.

"Negative Mass in 5!"

Draven kept counting down, and as she did Joker felt like his entire being was being stretched forward into infinity. His own scream seemed to fade behind him, as if he had left his mouth behind.

Then, suddenly, a mountain appeared on the virtual windows.

"OH SHIT!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Garrus did not understand what had just happened. One second he was getting ready to get back into the Normandy through one of the tears in its hull. Then the green light blinded him, and he felt like he was gently carried by a giant hand.<p>

And then there was a mountain.

_**"PULL UP! PULL UP!" **_screamed Neil over the Codec. Both the Copperhead and the Seraph rose sharply into the air. The Normandy, now back to normal mass, had been a little too slow, and knocked off a chunk of ice off the tip of the mountain. The helmsman lost control of the craft, but regained it just in time for a relatively gentle crash landing.

"This is, er... Mr. Blue to the Normandy. Are you in one piece?"

_"Normandy to Mr. Blue,"_ replied the Helmsman. _"Yeah... we're okay. Mostly. How about you?"_

_"Normandy, this is the Copperhead, what the hell just happened?!"_

_"Copperhead, Normandy. We haven't got a fucking clue."_

Garrus caught sight of a burst of light, and another, and then another. He turned his head to the left, and over the horizon he saw a pyramid, surrounded by frigates and dropships. _Geth frigates and dropships._

"Guys... is that Dosadi over there in the west?"

_"...holy shit, you're right__,__" _Neil muttered. _"How is that...?"_

_"Copperhead, Normandy. Repeat? I didn't quite catch that."_

_"Normandy, Copperhead... We're about 100 kilometers away from Dosadi."_

"We just made a six thousand kilometer short jump with no relay," said Garrus. Then, he added: "Son of a bitch."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Anderson asked for reports from the Senior Staff, and received them within five minutes.<p>

According to Chakwas, there had been only been one fatality: Requisitions officer Corso. As for casualties, one of the marines— Fredricks— had lost an arm, and several of the bridge crew would need time to recover from aggravated glass cuts.

With Alenko gone, Lieutenant Taylor had effectively taken over the marine detail. According to him, Fredricks had been the only casualty. The rest were shaken by the attack, but were still able to fight.

"We've taken the two remaining corpses of the um..." Jacob hesitated when he was about to say 'Biotic Flying Shark'. The term was ridiculous, despite the danger the actual creatures posed. "...the creatures that attacked us into the cargo bay. Figured Chakwas might want to have a look at them."

"Good call. Any more sightings of the other intruder?"

Jacob shook his head. "None, sir. It vanished without a trace. We're still on the lookout."

According to Navigator Pressly, they had indeed, as the Turian claimed, crossed six thousand kilometres in a fraction of a second. Anderson decided to speak to Addams, as he was certain he would be able to explain how this had happened.

"I haven't got the faintest clue," said the Engineer.

"Didn't we simply go into FTL?"

Addams shook his head. "No, the field harmonics required to raise the lightspeed limit can't be done in a gravity well. Judging from the data Draven and Pressly sent me, the Normandy created a small negative mass conduit and pushed itself through it. Not only that, but we wound up phasing right through a fair chunk of Noveria's rock, too."

"I thought only Relays could do that."

"On a galactic scale? Sure. On an interstellar one... It's theoretically possible to create one with just a ship drive, but the calculations and power requirements, not to mention charge buildup management were thought to be well beyond anyone's means."

"Until the Intruder proved that wrong."

"Yeah... no kidding. Anyways, on a planetary scale? Asari Vanguards — and _Shepard —_ have repeatedly demonstrated the ability to create nearly mass-less conduits. It's not quite the same thing, but they proved it could be done, too."

Anderson's face fell a little. Shepard was the only human in existence to have executed a skill the Asari claimed took a century to master. Another grand accomplishment, and she had been unable to share it with other humans. Another reason to mourn her loss.

"Cap'n..." continued Addams, hesitantly. "Speaking of Shepard..."

"We can talk about a burial later, Addams," chided Anderson.

"What? No! It's just... I think I saw her."

"...Explain."

"It was when the Intruder sent the Core into overdrive. It was floating in front of it, shining with a bright, blinding light... But I could make out his form! It looked like a man in a full-body hardsuit, but at the same it looked like an android in tan robes, and... and the most beautiful Asari woman I ever saw. Her eyes were as blue as Shepard's, and the moment I thought that..." He rubbed the back of his head, a confused look on his face. "...there she was, in her red N7 custom armor. The Intruder was all four of these people at once and yet none at all." Addams pinched the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes, feeling weary. "I don't know, maybe it was wishful thinking, or cloak psychosis... or both."

"...Are you entirely certain you sealed the Gyges unit?"

"Absolutely! It's still in the radioactive materials crate, and I scanned it again and again. It's not putting out any radiation."

"Good to know. And the ship? Are we still good for battle?"

"We're not quite at a hundred percent. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the changes in the ship's OS, and we've still got holes in the hull and the GARDIAN lasers are out of commission. We still have shields, missiles, propulsion, and the emissions sink, so we're good for hit-and-fade tactics."

Ramsus' unmistakable voice came through on the intercom._ "Anderson. Meet me at the communication room, immediately."_

Anderson was not exactly pleased at being ordered around on what was still his command. "Goddamned Code Black."

"I know," empathized Addams. "Still if it makes you feel any better, that one's got us where we should be. Right into the fight."

If only Chakwas had felt the same way, thought Anderson. "Technically, the Intruder got us here."

"Yeah, and it took care of that weird drone swarm for us, too." Addams smiled. "Some unknown figure comes out of nowhere and magically solves a huge problem for us, then gets us where we need to be. Isn't there a term for that?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Deus Ex Machina," said Jacob as he put on his light hardsuit. Anderson had told him to keep the marine detail ready for any danger, and the remaining few of them, himself included, were now preparing themselves for battle at their lockers in the Cargo Bay. "That's pretty much what happened to us."<p>

"Not a fan of the term. God does _not_ come from a machine," said Williams as she tested her Marksman app on her Lancer. She found the term utterly repulsive, but reminded herself that she was talking to a superior officer. "I prefer the term 'divine intervention'."

Jacob shrugged. "Same difference, if you think about it. It all depends on your point view. Anyways, a Deus Ex Machina wasn't really a god, just a poor schmuck some Greek mummers hoisted up with ropes, pulleys, and a scaffold, way back in the day." Jacob chuckled. "Don't read too much into it, Gunny."

An awkward silence fell between them, and Williams broke it first. "Sir? Are you sure as to what you saw?"

"Like I said. Almost invisible, man-shape being made of light. Casually tossed me aside the moment I aimed my gun at it."

"Sir? Can I ask you a personal question?" Williams didn't actually wait for him to answer. "Do you believe in God?"

"...I spent my childhood as a _Restavec_," he answered, bitterly and indirectly. "It's coloured my view on a caring, loving God just a little bit."

"...I don't know what that means," said Williams, insensitively.

_Of course you don't. Earth is Perfect. Aliens are evil and want to ruin it. _Jacob gave her a quick glance. "Yes, I believe in god." He said, not wanting to get into an argument. "You going somewhere with this, Gunny?"

"It's just... a being of light comes out of nowhere and saves us all, and gets us where we can do the most good? I can't help but feel... vindicated somehow..." The Turian walked by, on his way to the briefing room. "As if God's sent one of his own angels to help us. After all the days spent in..." she looked at Shepard's coffin. "In doubt? In inaction? It's good to have a sign." She allowed herself the luxury of a genuine smile, for the first time since in Eden Prime. "And we just got the best one. God is with us."

"...Sorry to dash your hopes, but I'm pretty sure the figure didn't have four animal faces, four wings made of hands, and covered in eyes."

"...What the hell are you talking about?"

"_Angels_, Williams. I actually paid attention when my mother read her Bible to me. Both Testaments, and Angels aren't exactly pretty in the Old one, just saying..."

"Hey, Angels aren't monsters!"

"Whatever you say, Williams. All I know is, if God's own angels come down from heaven, you're more likely to shoot it rather than listen to what it has to say."

_"Anderson to Taylor," _said the captain over the intercom. _"I need you, Williams, and four marines to join me in the Communications room, and now. We're going into Dosadi."_

"Roger that, sir. Williams, you heard the man," He barked orders to the Normandy's marines in the cargo bay: "Olsen! Leslie! Kaplan! Mallory! Double check your loadouts! Captain wants us to meet him upstairs.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the circular comms room, Ramsus, accompanied by his entourage of mercs and a dog mech, briefed the Marines while a blue hologram of Dosadi floated in the center. The Geth were hellbent on pounding away at the top, but that section seemed to be protected by a shimmering globe. The parts under it, however, had more than few holes in the walls.<p>

"The Copperhead pilot has agreed to provide me and my companions transportation into Dosadi on the condition that I provide his own comrades with reinforcements. That's were you come in. The Copperhead will fly us in, and deposit you near the Deep Eyes' position. After that, I'll continue on to my objective. In the meantime, the Normandy will execute hit-and-run attacks against the Geth fleet as a distraction. Any questions?"

"Wait, that's it?!"

Ramsus turned to the marine. _Williams. Of course she would complain_. "Yes, that's all."

"We are NOT bargaining chips!" she protested.

"Yes. You are. But fear not, my dear. You'll get a chance to kill Geth and Krogan aplenty. Now, is there anything else?"

"I got a question too," said Jacob, his gaze never quite leaving the Turian. "What does Hein want with Dosadi?"

"I am not privy to this Hein's thoughts," dismissed Ramsus. "You'll have to ask him."

"Something on your mind, Taylor?" asked Anderson, curious.

"Well..." Jacob was about to say something, but instead he stumbled a bit, and sniffed. A drop of blood, came out of his nose.

"Yes?" said Ramsus, smiling.

"No, sir. Nothing at all." Jacob recovered his composure quickly, and then, for no reason at all, he saluted.

"Alright then, gentlemen, the Copperhead is outside. We move out immediately..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"What was that about, earlier?"<em> asked Garrus by encrypted Codec as they boarded the Copperhead. Thankfully, Neil had parked the ship close to the Normandy. Garrus wasn't a fan of the cold. _"Taylor was about to say something about me, I think, and then he just... saluted."_

_"Taylor is an AIA agent,"_ replied Ramsus. _"And he suspects that you were the same Turian they encountered with the other Deep Eyes on Caleston. Don't worry, I killed the braincells that held this particular train of thought."_

_"What?... Spirits, you can do that?"_

_"Not with the same precision as Scholar's technology... but I manage. I didn't erase his memory, I just short circuited his thoughts on the matter. He'll get better, and as long as you don't go about **waving modified Templar technology about **he won't be having them again."_

_Does he know what you can do?" asked Brea._

"No. If he did he would have shot me the moment his nose bled. The AIA likes to compartmentalize. If an alien power knew that humanity had agents like me around, they would not tolerate it. By the way... interesting adventure you all had on Caleston. I only caught glimpses, but that was fascinating... especially at the end."

"I'd rather we didn't talk about Caleston, please," said Adam, sub-vocally.

"Ah, Jensen! There you are. How are things on the outside of the Copperhead?"

"A bit windy."

"I'll bet."

"We should assassinate Taylor at the first opportunity we have," said Brea, all business.

**"I agree," **said Hannibal, his voice a tinny growl. **"I volunteer for the task."**

"What's his objective?" asked Jensen.

"Observation of the Normandy and its crew," said Ramsus, "he has instructions to take over the ship should Anderson try anything."

"Leave him alone, for now."

"Jensen—" Brea tried to protest.

Adam cut her off in a tone that would tolerate no argument. "I don't want to hear it."

"I can kill him right now," said Ramsus. "I just pop a vein in his brain and no one would be the wiser, no one would know."

"I would know, and I would make you **pay**. Save your energy for the Geth."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Well, here they go," said Draven, who then shook her head at the sensor display. "Along with our captain. This is why we shouldn't promote marines to command starships. They always want to settle things on the ground."<p>

Joker shrugged and started the take-off sequence. "I hear Anderson didn't even have to insist to come along, though I don't get why Ramsus would go along with that. Hell, he's got a combination of Iron Man and Hawkeye on his side, plus a combination of Samus Aran and Power Girl. Why bother with a squad of Marines?"

Draven gave him a confused look. "Who and what now?"

"...Once this is over, remind me to show you my collection of classics."

Draven considered it for a moment, and shrugged. "Sure, it's a date."

"Wait, wha—"

Pressly, who had the deck as the Normandy's XO, spoke up through the intercom. "Helm, are we ready to go?"

"We are. Ready to take off on your mark."

"Mark. Take us to Nav One and sync up with Gunnery. Let's show those robots what we can do."

Joker could have sworn Pressly was getting fired up for a second there. "Aye aye!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Copperhead's cabin was eerily quiet. Next to Williams sat Anderson, wearing only a flak jacket for protection and wielding his light machine gun. She was impressed that he could carry that around without assistance from a hardsuit. Next to Anderson sat Privates Olsen and Leslie.<p>

Opposite her sat Ramsus, with the woman at his side. Kaplan and Mallory were sitting next to her, nervous. As for 'Mr. Blue', the Turian had opted to stand and stay close to the stairwell that led to the Copperhead's main entry doors, on account of his sizable jetpack. Williams shook her head when she saw that the doors were essentially on the back of the Dropship's 'neck', behind the cockpit. It did not seem like a practical design decision.

The 'dog' was laying on the deck, as if sleeping quietly. Williams did not like dogs. And since her ordeal on Eden Prime, she did not like mechs either. Thus, Ramsus' pet offended her on two levels.

The engines roared, and the ship lurched as it took off.

_"Ladies and gentlemen, mercs and soldiers, 'Alleys' and Aliens, welcome to Highwind Airlines. You are now seated inside a Diable Avionics TTAC Mark Seven Copperhead. This means that we've got inertial __**compensators**__, not dampeners, and in a few minutes we shall be doing some thrilling acrobatics, such as Loops, Slips, and Spins. Hell, we might even do a Barrel Roll! So yeah, barf bags are available below your seat."_

Williams felt around under her seat, and while there was no barf bag, there was a two-shot high-density gas canister launcher. Apparently, US marines had never heard of parachutes or landing systems. Still, to pass the time, she read the instructions. It was simple enough: remove safety pin, aim to where you are about to land, pull trigger.

She sighed. "I wonder if being a smart-ass is a prerequisite to being a pilot?"

"Probably," replied Taylor, shrugging. When he saw she was handling an HDG gun, he pointed up at a spool of wire. "I don't think we're going to need that. There's rappelling gear, and it looks like the seats can be dropped by pulling that yellow lever."

"Huh... so that's how we're supposed to get out in a pinch? Thanks."

"No problem."

Anderson had picked up the gun under his seat. "Can't hurt to familiarize yourself with the thing just in case."

"Aye aye," the Alliance Marines said as they followed suit.

"Are you alright, Mr. Olsen?"

"Hm? How do you know my name?" When Ramsus tapped his fully deployed helmet, Olsen thought that his name was displayed on the AR interface. "I'm fine, sir. What makes you ask?"

"Your leg is shaking."

"Ah err... well, it is at that. I'm just so excited, sir! Ready to kick some synthetic arse!"

"Hm... maybe you should sit this one out?"

"What?!" Olsen was getting riled up. "Sir, I've got plenty of combat experience and—"

"Relax, mister Olsen... I was merely joking."

Olsen fumed, but Williams noticed his leg stopped shaking. She wondered if Ramsus enjoyed pushing people's buttons for their benefit, or solely for his amusement.

_"Everyone, brace yourselves,"_ said the dropship pilot. _"Your frigate's about to start with the aggro!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"5 degrees up..." <em>said the gunnery officer. Joker manipulated the new controls, and was impressed by the improved response time, not to mention the precision. Combined with the Normandy's stealth systems, this meant that Joker and Gunnery could play sniper for a bit.

_"Firing main cannon!" _The tungsten core steel slug flew 20 kilometres and found its mark, a Geth Transport with probably countless geth troopers on board. It caved in on itself as the slug blew through its center, and crashed a kilometre away from where it floated.

"Kill confirmed!" reported Draven.

Gunnery fed another set of instructions to Joker, and Joker lined up the Normandy's spinal mounted gun. Another transport was knocked out of the sky. The helmsman wondered at first why they did not take out a couple of Geth assault frigates, but Pressly was adamant about the troop transports, for some reason. He figured it would be smarter to take out the danger to the Normandy, first.

The Geth's reaction had been immediate: 50 fighters had been deployed to investigate the unseen threat. Gunnery fired a couple of Flak rounds through the secondary guns, and then Joker moved the ship, keeping the mountains between it and the Geth squadrons.

_"Copperhead, this is the Normandy, we got their attention__,__" _transmitted Pressly. _"Good luck."_

_"Normandy, Copperhead: Roger that."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Urrrgh, I think I'm going to be sick...!" muttered Olsen. The other three Privates were less vocal, but were obviously just as uncomfortable with the sudden acceleration. Alliance ships were designed around an element zero core, not enhanced by one, and as such their Marines were used to very comfortable rides in their shuttles.<p>

Anderson, for his part, had sortied six times on older BearCat troop transports, which did not even have _artificial gravity. _He was more than used to a rough ride. Williams and Taylor, while uncomfortable, were more disciplined.

"Deep breaths, Olsen," said Williams.

"Listen to her, she's—"

The passenger cabin shook, and Olsen panicked. "Oh god, we're under attack, aren't we?"

"Yes," said Ramsus, not bothered at all by the danger. At that point Olsen thought that this was the worst possible position to be in. Stuck inside an old piece of junk being shot at by Geth fighters.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam held on for dear life, his hands gripping the hull of the Copperhead as it pulled some very, very fast evasive manoeuvres as it was being shot at by Geth heavy pulse guns and missiles.<p>

_"You okay out there?"_ asked Neil over Codec.

"Yeah! Good times!"

He was, of course, being sarcastic. His AR display reported that his power-cells were at 475 percent capacity. While this meant he would not have to worry about running out of juice for a while, it also meant that the suit was starting to feel a bit hot, which was saying something considering the windchill and sub-zero temperatures of Noveria. Adam was not looking forward to being inside Dosadi again. At room temperature, he would _cook. _He needed to spend the excess energy, and soon.

_"I ask again, think you can work you__r__ techno-wizardry on these guys?"_

Adam was about to say no, but realized that it was worth a shot. After all, simply telling the Geth to self destruct or even just go away could save the millions on Dosadi (and spare him a rough ride).

He scanned for frequencies and locked on the most active one, used by the 12 Geth fighters that were pursuing them.

As it turned out, even a cyborg with a Promethean ghost stuck in his head was no match for the millions of processes of the Geth invasion force. They reacted at the speed of light, quadrupling their signal encryption even as they self-destructed the hacked fighter platforms and the others on their wings just in case. They had even managed to nearly break through the 108's firewall before Adam cut the connection. A millisecond too late, and they would have taken over the suit.

The pursuing Geth squadron exploded and crashed into the snow. At least that problem was done with.

_"Hey! What did you do?!"_

"I assumed I was saving our asses!"

_"Well, however you did it, It was bad enough that they just sent two squadrons against us!"_

"Aw, crap..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Normandy, Copperhead here! We're just 10 kilometres away from Dosadi but we just got some major aggro!"<em>

"Copperhead, this is Normandy!" replied Pressly. "It's worse than you think — the two squadrons they sent to find us just broke off and are headed your way!"

"...Tell me that you're chasing them!"

"That we are!" Pressly barked orders at Joker to pursue and for Gunnery to keep those flak rounds going. In ten seconds they had destroyed the Geth reinforcements, but the Copperhead was still being shot at by multiple fighters.

"Gunnery, I want missile locks on these bastards! Don't let them kill the captain!"

_"Aye aye, sir! Just... err, Sensors? Is something wrong?"_

_"What is it?"_

_"You're giving us multiple aspect locks— I got __fifty__!"_

_"Roger that, double-checking... readings are accurate... I think."_

Pressly wondered for a moment if the Normandy project had been granted access to European multi-lock technology — or better yet, the OCU's — but he knew that could not be. Earth militaries tended to keep their best toys to themselves. Still, Pressly was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

The Normandy, in order to save space on a spacious munitions reloading system, was equipped with fifty Aerospace missile tubes, all ready to launch at a moment's notice. Reloading had to be done by hand, but since Alliance lock-on technology could only handle six simultaneous locks, the reloading crew was not particularly pressured to keep up.

_"Copperhead here__; m__y shields are almost out! If you're gonna do something do it now!"_

"Helm!" barked Pressly again. "Get us in optimal range!"

"Aye-aye!"

"Gunnery, ready tubes 1 through 50! I want both Aspect and Image locks!"

_"Sir?!"_

"That's an order, Chief!"

_"Helm here! We are in range, but they can see us!"_

"FIRE EVERYTHING!" Pressly bellowed.

_"Aye-aye!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>From the port and starboard sides of the Normandy's hull fifty white streams of smoke snaked out, each tipped with a burning dot of yellow light. Each individual missile had its own target, and each of them pursued it relentless. As the Geth fighters moved the evade, the missile swarm expanded into a tangle of white streams. Most of the missiles found their mark, and the Copperhead was at the center of a fireworks show.<p>

"Holy shit!" screamed Neil, shielding his eyes from the bright blasts.

_"Copperhead, this is the Normandy, we just punched a huge hole in their fighter cover, I suggest you use it!"_

"Roger that," said Neil as he took the Copperhead straight to the nearest hole in Dosadi's walls. "You Alliance space dogs are officially sort-of okay in my book, now!"

_"We'll keep doing hit-and-fades for as long as we can. You get those men where you need to, Copperhead."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Video windows appeared in front of every seat in the Copperhead's passenger cabin, streaming the moving images that came from a hi-definition gun cam. Neil had the vulcan gun scan the horizon, so that everyone got a good look.<p>

Middle Dosadi was on fire. Bullets were flying everywhere, from above and below. SSC gunships put up a pitched, desperate fight against the relentless horde of Geth drones, which were easily and quickly replaced by the Geth transports. Geth dropships delivered troops from hotspot to hotspot. Corpses both organic and synthetic were littered across the streets. Wrecked Tendus Wanzers, never meant for full blown warfare, were among them.

As the pilot took the Copperhead near street level near cover, Anderson hoped he and his marines could make a difference in this battle, no matter how small.

"...Those are a lot of dead bodies, down there," said Jacob. He gave the mercenaries a dirty look. "Not that you _mercs_ give two shits."

"Saren's going to pay for this," said Williams. "Even if we lose here, Earth—"

"Earth will do **nothing**," said Ramsus, cynically. "Noveria is a backwater far, far away. If it is razed to the ground it might be a headline on the news and _little more."_

"Humanity won't stand by and do nothing!" she countered, angrily. "They can't, not in the face of this atrocity!"

"Humanity stood by while atrocities took place on its very soil, Williams."

Williams was about to shoot back when the pilot spoke through the intercom. _"Ahem! Got something on the comms... here,"_ said Neil. Another, smaller window popped up, showing nothing but cyan static.

_"...less inter... ce? ...hank god! ...his...is... eyes."_

_"Cleaning it up, aaand... there we go."_

The static made way for an animated portrait of a man wearing a strange, golden helmet, which the vid window's bias towards blue made it appear greenish. _"This is US Marine Captain Edward Grey to any friendly forces in the area, please respond!"_

Anderson tapped the holographic communication controls and responded. "This is Alliance Navy Captain Anderson, we're riding your Copperhead and are on our way to assist you now!"

_"Anderson?! Wh—What the hell are you doing in OUR—, oh, never mind! We're not the ones that need help. We're holed up in a Burger Town on top of Paulownia Mall along with some __SSCs__. It's Lieutenant Devereaux that needs help! She took her Zenith to respond to a—"_

Another window appeared, this time of a woman with her eyes obscured by a Wanzer's piloting helmet_. "This is Lt. Devereaux to any friendlies in the area! I'm escorting thirty civilians! I've got negligible infantry support and two Geth dropships on my scopes! I need assistance!"_

_"Devereaux, you're in luck! I've got ten Alliance Marines coming your way!"_

_"Hmph, I suppose they'll have to do! Sending coordinates now!"_

On Grey's channel, a distant voice that sounded suspiciously like Sergeant Vega's bellowed something. "_**Geth incoming!**_"

_"GEP that Dropship! GEP THAT DROPSHIP!"_

All was static, and Neil's voice became panicked. _"Grey?! GREY!"_

Grey's face reappeared, but the unmistakable sounds of Pulse Rifle shots could be heard. "We're okay! Go and rescue Devereaux NOW!"

_"Like hell!"_ Neil shot back, _"I'm coming your way right now, just hold on!"_

_"We ARE holding on! I gave you __an__ order, Pilot!"_

The tall, curvaceous woman shook her head. _**"This is a waste of time. We should proceed to our objective," **_she said to Ramsus, coldly.

Ramsus tapped the pointed chin of his helmet, as if pondering it. "I'm _new_ to military strategy, but... I would think that both this Devereaux and Grey would be useful allies against the Geth forces."

"He's right, but we can only help one at a time," said Jacob to Anderson.

Anderson hated these decisions. He could force the issue with the pilot, put a gun to his head if the need arose to divert him to Devereaux, or encourage him to head straight to the Deep Eyes.

Devereaux, a potential Spectre, and a Wanzer pilot to boot. He was partial to rescuing her. She had more firepower, too. And the Deep Eyes... they were Hein's lapdogs, and they had proven untrustworthy on Caleston.

But, they were Marines, and good soldiers, and you didn't leave Marines behind.

But he had to make the call; every second of hesitation meant that neither Devereaux or the Deep Eyes would survive.

Just as he was about to make his way towards the cockpit, gun in hand, a robotic, warped voice came on the channel. It was deep, and spoke haltingly, like a robot.

_**"This is DARPA Combat Mech Shadow 108 responding to distress call. Moving to assist Lieutenant Devereaux."**_

_"Combat Mech?" _responded Devereaux. _"Whatever, I'll take all the help I can get!"_

"What the fuck is this?" said Williams.

"That's DARPA's machine," said Jacob. "Wonder why it's not assisting the Deep Eyes, but since we saw what it can do, I'd say the Wanzer pilot's covered." At Williams' look of confusion, Jacob clarified: "You weren't awake to see it. Trust me, that thing's more than enough reinforcements on its own."

"Agreed," said Anderson. "Grey! We're on our way to the Burger Town!"

_"I SAID—" _Grey's window shut down.

_"Oops, lost the connection!"_ said Neil, coyly.

The mech dog gave Ramsus a look, and as if sensing its thoughts, Ramsus said, "You want go and help her? Hmph, you always were a sucker for blondes."

The dog mech growled, as if angry.

"Fine. Pilot," said Ramsus, "open hatch 5." At the Marines' incredulous looks, Ramsus merely shrugged. "I'd hate not to do my part." He turned to his vid window. "Devereaux? We're sending another mech of our own."

As the wind rushed beneath the empty seat, Williams protested. "Sir! You can't rely on mechs to help! What if the Geth hack into them?! I lost my squad to Eden Prime's own LOKIs!"

"Shit," cursed Jacob out loud over the rush of the wind. "She's right, I didn't think about—"

"It's too late," said Anderson as the mech fell through the opening. "The call's been made! Familiarize yourselves with the HD Gas launchers. We might have to drop in hot and we don't have chutes."

Williams stared daggers at the closing seat. "Aye-aye..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam's fist glowed gold with the Icarus Landing System's electromagnetic energies, and he punched the head of a Geth Prime as he fell on top of it. Neither its shields nor its polymer frame withstood the blow, and its squadmates were blasted away by the force of the electromagnetic burst.<p>

The ones that were still functional were easy pickings for Hannibal's claws.

**"Let's not waste time,"** Hannibal growled.**"Devereaux's position is 5 kilometres away. Try and keep up."**

Hannibal's entire Anubis frame had been primarily designed for one thing: speed. The curvature of its spine and the configuration of its polymer musculature had been based on the cheetah, allowing Hannibal to run at speeds rivaling those of a racing hoverbike. He was a bit displeased when Jensen caught up with him and slowed down just a bit to run besides him.

Garrus' faceless helm appeared on the corner of Adam's HUD. _"This. Is. Shadow. 108. Beep boop!" _Garrus laughed over the encrypted Codec Channel_."Need my help?"_

_"No__,__" _replied Jensen. _"I need to do this alone."_

_"Ah, yes, of course," _said Brea derisively as her own image appeared next to Garrus'. _"The knight in shining armour routine. Devereaux is hardly what I would call a damsel in distress, you know.__"_

She was partially right, of course, but Adam would be damned if he would let her win this one. _"I HAVE to do this alone, because my BATTERIES are overloaded and I need to unload the excess energy before they EXPLODE."_

_"...Oh."_

_"Yeah. Might as well take it out on the Geth."_

_**"... I could always LEAVE," **_said Hannibal, a bit offended at not being wanted.

_"Oh _please_," _Ramsus laughed. _"You want to rescue her as much as he does. Do have fun, both of you. I certainly will." _His picture vanished as soon as it appeared.

_"'Shadow'?" _added Brea_, "I'm transmitting the locations of every emergency weapons cache in Middle Dosadi to your automap, and the ones close by should show up on your HUD. You'll find everything in them from assault rifles to GEP guns."_

_"Aw, Brea, I didn't know you cared."_

_"...Don't get any ideas. You're wearing a multi-billion credit piece of hardware. I'm only concerned for my employer's finances."_

_"Er, your boss didn't pay for the 108. Hein did."_

Brea became annoyed. _"...Just follow your bloody NAV point!"_ And on that, her picture vanished.

_"Gotta go," _said Garrus. _"The Alliance Marines are looking at us funny. And 'Shadow'? Give them hell!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the Wanzer held the hatch open, Damien Raffaeli hurried the group of civilians through. Eventually, two people came to see him: his mother Melanie and his little brother David. Soon, it would be their turn to go through. If he had his way he would have had them go first, but Damien did not want to play favourites. The crowd would turn against him and things could get really bad when that happened.<p>

They would be going to safety, or so he hoped. He had heard reports of Geth in lower Dosadi, but it looked like the gangs were keeping them at bay. Still, the floof was a lot safer than Middle Dosadi was right now.

"Tu viens pas avec nous?" asked David, his big brown eyes pleading as he gripped his mother's hand a bit more tightly. He was smart, but he was still too young to understand what was happening all around him.

"Je peux pas," said Damien.

"S'il-te-plait, Damien," pleaded Mélanie, her breathing ragged and urging. She had just taken her medicine, but she was out of doses. Her skin was already getting clammy and pale. "Viens avec nous! Les Geth sont partout! Et ils vont..."

"Ils vont quoi?" asked David, growing scared.

Damien knelt beside his little brother, and put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him."Ils ne passeront pas. Je vais rester ici pour te laisser du temps pour échapper aux Geth, mais—"

"C'est quoi, un Geth?"

Damien sighed. "Ce sont des méchants, et tu sais ce que je fais aux méchants?"

David smiled, feeling a little reassured. "Tu les arrêtes."

"C'est ça, et quand j'aurais fini de les arrêter, je vais te rejoindre, comme d'habitude. Je te promets, les méchants ne passeront pas."

He hurried Mélanie through the hole, and lowered David with his hip-mounted wires to his mother's waiting arms.

"Damien..." pleaded Mélanie once more.

**"Officier..." **reminded the Wanzer pilot, the woman's voice booming through her riot speakers. Damien stared down at the hole, into his family's pleading eyes. **"Vous pouvez les rejoindre. Je ne vous arrêterais pas," **she said, her tone full of understanding.

Damien looked at his family for what he believed to be the last time. "On se reverra," he lied. He then nodded towards the Zenith, and its pilot closed the thick, reinforced hatch, then shoved a nearby cargo container on top of it. Raffaeli turned to the other SSC contractors, those that didn't flee into the floof with the civilians. There were just ten of them.

"...We're all going to die here, aren't we?" said the Italian. He was no older than 20, and his dirty, white plastic armor did not fit him. He had to take it from a dead superior. Damien didn't quite catch his name.

"Yeah," replied Damien in English. It was the only common language between them all. "But we might as well make it worth something, yes?"

They all shifted uncomfortably. None of them were really soldiers. They had had a few drills to prepare for a major pirate attack, like the one that had nearly wiped out Elysium, but had not been instilled with the necessary discipline to make a fight of it.

**"Get inside that building and bunker down,"** said the Wanzer pilot, pointing her huge machine's gun at a three story office building, **"Stay off the streets, and try to keep any of those Geth hoppers off my back. We should be getting some reinforcements, soon."**

"How soon?" asked the Brit. His name was Carver; he was the one with the Cousar Crowe GEP gun. The rest had Mattocks.

**"...Soon," **she said, half-heartedly.

"Well, you heard the lady," said Sergeant Lees. He had been their sole piece of Wanzer support, until the Zenith showed up. He was piloting a Tendus painted in SSC colors. Miraculously, he had survived this long despite having next to zero cockpit protection. Damien supposed it was because the man practically pissed metal with his two Leosocial wanzer machine pistols. "Get inside that building!" he barked, "There's a secure SSC locker in there. Arm yourselves and get ready!"

Damien obeyed, his SSC training holding true.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>From her cockpit, Elsa looked down at the militia as they entered the building. It was for their own safety: Wanzer combat could get messy, and infantry regularly got crushed underfoot. Still, she would have to stay close to them. The Geth had tried multiple times to hack her machine with those damned Hoppers, and they deployed plenty of rocket troopers against her. The best way to counter heavy infantry was with infantry of your own... although the SSC could hardly be called infantry. More like glorified mall cops. It was a brave bunch that had stuck with her, but their shots went wide more often than they hit.<p>

_"This is... you know, I never quite caught your name." _said the Sergeant over Codec. Judging by his appearance and accent, Elsa assumed he was from the OCU. New Zealand, to be exact. Elsa didn't think much of the SSC, but this one was easily Silver Drake material. Too bad all he had to work with was a dinky Tendus Urban.

"Elsa," she replied.

_"Nice name."_

"What's yours?" she asked. She had heard it already, but she wanted to be polite.

_"Oh, sorry. Lees. Nathaniel Lees. Be honest with me. What are our chances?"_

"I honestly don't know. I got word of reinforcements. Two mechs."

_"Wanzers?"_

_"No."_

Damien sighed_. "Shit. That's all?"_

"Yeah..."

"I don't suppose your fleet is going to come to our rescue anytime soon?"

"I wish I—" Elsa was interrupted by a sudden noise, a distant boom, followed by the tingling of a million shards of glass. Middle Dosadi's artificial daylight flickered for a frightening moment, as if reality was having technical difficulties.

"The hell was that?!" shouted Lees. "Raffaeli! Use that gear and scout ahead, I think that came from the west!"

_"Roger that!..." _Said the SSC officer in street clothes. Elsa and Lees waited patiently for him to report. "_Oh, bordel..."_

_"In English, you little shit!" _Lees spat.

_"Sorry!... I see a big hole in the glass wall, at least two kilometers away! A Geth Frigate is coming though it. It's... It's very big. I can see ships coming out of it... They're coming our way!"_

Elsa wondered if she had pissed off someone in a past life to get this kind of shabby treatment.

_"Lass? Lass?! Hermes, you lying git! You said the interference was—"_

She recognized the Scottish burr instantly. "Zead? ZEAD! I can hear you loud and clear!"

_"Oh, thank bloody Jesus Christ, are ye alright?!"_

"I've got a frigate coming my way! Please tell me you're coming, too!"

"We've just taken out the Krogan Barge! Our fighters are breaking into atmo as we speak. I'm plugging my Liathach onto a Carryall and I'm headed to Dosadi straight away!"

"What's your ETA?"

"...Ten minutes, Lass."

"...Okay. I can do ten minutes."

"Ye hold on, ye hear? I'm not losing another Drake, not to these flashlights... Zead out."

_"This is DARPA Mech Shadow 108. Meeting resistance. ETA five minutes."_

Elsa didn't bother to reply. As far as she was concerned, a dinky mech was of no use to her. Ten minutes. That's how long she would have to last.

"Lees," she said, eyeing the radar bubble on her HUD. "Here they come. In ten minutes the fleet in orbit will be here, but until then..."

_"I heard."_ Lees laughed. _"Elsa, we're going to DIE here, I have no illusions about it. Just promise me one thing?"_

"Alright?"

_"You make sure to give the Geth a taste of hell before we do."_

"Ha! I can practically guarantee they will."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>[Vanquish OST - First Battle]<p>

_**ONLY THE CHIPLESS ARE FREE!**_

Adam had only caught sight of the graffiti as he slowed down a bit to make a couple of sharp turns in a backstreet. There was smoke, and fire, and wrecks and bodies everywhere. This was war, and he was in the middle of it. Thankfully, the fires were spread out, and the artificial daylight killed the orange glow of the flames. There would be no panicking and no fear on his part. Adam would move with far more speed and freedom than in Peak 15.

In the distance he could make out the sounds of gunfire, maybe just fifty meters away. The closer Adam got, the more obvious it was that the SSC was losing the fight, badly, and any assistance he could offer on his way, he knew, could turn the tide.

He ran across a street where three Tendus Wanzers were trying to fend off six giant Geth and their infantry support. The Geth analogue to the Wanzers towered over the squat machines by a meter and a half, but appeared downright skeletal and heavily reliant on their shields. They fought carefully, moving to cover whenever they were shot at, while their squadmates flanked their enemies. SSC troopers wielding missile launchers, holed up in a 4 storey building, were forcing the Geth Wanzers to keep their heads down, but the Geth Troopers had been able to breach the building, the defending riflemen unable to down their shields fast enough to kill them.

_**"I will take care of the Geth in the lower floors,"**_ said Hannibal, while the background noise in his signal spoke of tearing and gnashing of teeth. _**"Clear out the upper floors!"**_

Adam leapt through a window on the third floor of the building and immediately came across a Geth Trooper platform about to shoot an SSC officer in the back. The rent-a-cop was desperately trying to gun down an Anti-Tank platform, and didn't pay attention to his surroundings. Three quick shots from Sasha, and the Trooper was down.

"Holy shit! Who are you?!" shouted the officer. The Rocket Trooper he was attacking ignored him in favor of Jensen. It fired a single rocket from its bulbous, chromed launcher, aimed right at Adam's center.

Adam was already rushing at the Geth Rocket Trooper when the missile launched. Just as the projectile was about to hit him, Adam ducked and slid on his knees, his back almost touching the ground. When he got up, he was in the Rocket Trooper's face and the missile had gone past the window he came through. The Geth processes inside the trooper had no time to copy themselves away into another platform, as Adam quickly tore into its chest and tore out the primary processing core. The programs would be trapped inside forever.

Adam quickly took the Geth bazooka and deleted the processes inside to use it. Thus lobotomized, the weapon couldn't target lock, but it could still launch a dumbfire. Adam approached an open window and took aim and fired it at a Geth Wanzer about to grab a Tendus pilot right out of his seat. The glowing blue projectile, a sort of mini disruptor torpedo, was powerful enough to seriously damage the Geth shields and tear into its armor. The blast knocked the Geth sideways a little, giving the Tendus a good opportunity to finish it off.

Which it did not take, instead focusing its fire on a Geth in cover. The fallen Geth quickly got up and killed the pilot.

_Shit... _Adam thought to himself as he discarded the spent weapon. _It looks like it's all up to me._

His HUD helpfully reported a weapons locker on the fourth floor. He went up a staircase and found three SSC officers desperately trying to open it up, cursing at each other as they repeatedly had the lock scan their Chips to no avail. He shoved them aside, dug his plasma claws into the locker and ripped it open. He helped himself to a Cousar Crowe 40 mm GEP gun and a spare 6-round box magazine, leaving behind a couple of assault rifles and an anti-materiel rifle.

"H-hey! That's SSC property!" said a nervous rent-a-cop as he shoved a CQC-11 shotgun in Adam's face. "P-put that b-back!"

One look at him and Adam knew he had paid for his Sergeant's stripes instead of earning them. The kid was maybe twenty years old and a nervous wreck, while his two comrades were quite a bit older and had their frayed nerves under better control.

Adam grabbed the gun by the muzzle, shoved its stock into the young man's hands and tore it out of his hands.**"This unit is confiscating this weapon for your own safety, citizen." **Adam stuck the weapon on a Van der Waals strip on the small of his back as he sped off out the window... feeling a bit silly after his Robocop impression.

The officer tried to protest, but his shouts quickly turned into tearful whining.

"Save it, sarge, you kinda brought that on yerself," said one of the other SSC officers. "Let's get back into the fight, aye?"

Adam leapt to a neighbouring building's roof, wallrunning across the advertising panel of a street post along the way. As he did, an ugly Krogan's face came on the panel, and his voice could be heard across the entire city's intercom system.

_**"Humans! It is pointless to resist! Surrender, and we shall prove kind masters! Resist, and be destroyed!"**_

The Geth Wanzer he had damaged fired a burst at him and missed, its targeting systems too damaged to get a bead on him. From his vantage point, he quickly acquired a lock with the Cousar Crowe and fired a guided rocket into its chest. It must have hit something important, because the Geth promptly fell on its knees. Its head popped off its shoulders, and something ejected from the hole.

It was a Geth trooper with some kind of small, triple-barrelled, hand-held cannon. It cloaked, and from the angle of its trajectory, it was about to fall close to him, no doubt to hunt him down.

_Two can play that game. _Adam cloaked and took cover and waited for the Geth to land. It made a loud thump as its feet hit the ground, and Adam activated his Smart-Vision. The game of cat and mouse did not last long: Adam came out of a corner and fired his shotgun straight into the Geth's CPU. The tungsten flechettes punctured the Geth's chest with such force that the robot was sent spinning off the roof.

Adam whistled as he decloaked and checked the gun's chamber: six shells in the tube, all green and marked 'AP Flechettes' in blue ink. They were gunpowder rounds: effective, but cheap. Perfect for the SSC's tight budget.

Adam quickly got to work on the other Geth Wanzers; he acquired a lock on another of the huge machines, which quickly reacted by shooting at him. Adam promptly dropped off the edge of the building and let himself slide on a sloped skylight as he cloaked. With no target lock, the Geth was forced to guess where he was, and destroyed a great deal of glass of with its hand-held Pulse Autocannon.

As glass exploded all around him, Adam emptied the Cousar Crowe's magazine into the Geth Wanzer, hitting the chest and groin. As the machine dropped to its knees, Adam activated his Quicksilver and jumped off the roof. In slow motion, the ejecting Geth trooper was intercepted by two clusters of flechettes: One for the shields, another for the body.

Adam landed on the opposite roof, and attempted to reload the Cousar Crowe. Adam wasn't used to using a this type of rocket launcher, and fumbled the reload. The Siege Pulse's explosion didn't help matters, and Adam was knocked off the roof. He fell a distance too short for this Icarus Landing system to trigger, and he landed on his back. His ears were ringing as the world spun around him, but the revving sound the Geth Pulse autocannon galvanized him to recover quickly enough to take cover by Zero Shifting towards a concrete pillar. Even as the savage flurry of pulses from the autocannon chipped away his cover, Adam took a deep breath and dared to take a peek out to get a handle on his situation.

The GEP's magazine — _of all rotten the luck!_ — had fallen in the Geth Wanzer's way as it approached slowly to get a better angle on Jensen. Adam thought about shooting it to make it explode, but that only worked in the movies—

—There was a tingle in the back of his head, and an idea quickly took form. Adam discarded the useless GEP gun, having no further use for it for now.

_First, activate Quicksilver. Then, take aim at magazine with flechette gun. Follow up with something really, REALLY crazy that will probably not work and get me killed._

Adam waited until the Wanzer was right on top of the mag and executed the plan. The crazy part? Follow the shot up by holding his hand out at the slowly moving cluster of tungsten. His chest tingled, and the feeling crawled up his arm. Lightning emerged from his fingertips and arced between the flechettes. Thus charged, one of the flechettes struck the GEP magazine. The lightning charge caused one of the rockets to explode, and at point blank range, the Geth Wanzer's shields did not trigger to protect it. Its leg was pulverized, and it stumbled.

Not longer being shot at, Adam Zero Shifted right up to its chest and emptied the shotgun pointblank, then discarded the empty weapon and tore into the hole with his plasma claws. The Geth 'pilot' tried to shoot him with its triple cannon and narrowly missed.

"Thanks!" said Adam as he reached inside and took the weapon. A few shots and the Wanzer fell on its back. The Geth, of course, tried to have the last laugh, and sent the Plasma Shotgun's capacitor into a feedback loop that overloaded it. Adam wrapped it in electrified Biotic energy and threw it — hard — at yet another approaching Geth Wanzer. The exploding weapon was better than a rocket. So much better, in fact, that the chest was melted into slag.

It fell on its knees.

"Nope."

Adam casually fired Sasha three times at the ejecting Geth pilot — without even looking — and proceeded to take out a couple of moon clips to reload the custom revolver. The Wanzer exploded behind him.

By his count, there should have been two more Geth Wanzers to deal with, but Hannibal had taken care of those in his own way. He had leapt onto the main optic of one, tricking another into shooting it. When that Wanzer fell. Hannibal leapt off, spun with its swordtail out, and neatly bisected the huge machine in two. All in all, Hannibal had taken out the two Wanzers much more quickly and fluidly than Adam would have.

Of course, there was still the matter of the ejecting pilot, which Adam shot in mid-air.

"We've wasted enough time here; let's go."

_**"Agreed."**_

As they both sped away, they heard cheers fading behind them.

Adam opened a frequency to Devereaux, his voice masked. _**"This is DARPA Mech Shadow 108. Hostiles neutralized. Proceeding to your location."**_

_Adam checked his power-cells: 404 percent. He felt a little cooler, but his sweaty skin tingled._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>TRANSMISSION INTERCEPTED<p>

RESOLVING ENCRYPTION KEY

_"Did you see that? Did you see that? They took out all hostiles in a minute and change!"_

_"Stow it! I'm calling for help! This is Sergeant Barker to Hanshan Command. Repeat, this is—"_

_"This is Hanshan Command, Acting Lieutenant Matsuo speaking. Barker, report!"_

_"Roger that. Sector 41 is clear of hostiles, repeat, Sector 41 is clear of hostiles. We've lost three men and one pilot but otherwise we're going to be alright. Can we get an extraction? Over."_

_"Excellent work. Your new orders are to redeploy to Sector 42 immediately and reinforce Sigma Company. They're pinned down and could use a flanking force. Save them and I can arrange for extraction."_

_"Roger that, Hanshan... uh, be advised for two unknowns with no IFF. They're... kind of the reason we're not dead. Over."_

_"Wanzers?"_

_"No ma'am. Just some kind of... black knight and his white wolf. Over."_

_"I have NO time for jokes, Sergeant Barker. Redeploy to 42 Now. Over."_

_"Ma'am, I'm serious! These two just—"_

_"You have your orders, Sergeant!"_

_"...*sigh*. Roger that, we are on the move to 42, over."_

_"What a cunt! She's safe and sound in Hanshan and she's telling us to hoof it all the way to 42? Fuck that bullshit!"_

_"You planning on deserting during an attack, Stoker?"_

_"Err..."_

_"I didn't think so. Take a quick lunch. We move out in 5."_

_TRANSMISSION ENDS_

_CONSENSUS REACHED_

_IGNORE COMMAND CLUSTER DESIGNATED 'BARKER' — probability of survival 9 percent._

_UNIT CLUSTER BETA 12 REDEPLOYED_

_UPLOADING OBJECTIVES — accept our knowledge_

_IDENTIFY AND CAPTURE UNIT DESIGNATED 'BLACK KNIGHT' —visual data packet attached_  
><em>who are you?<em>  
><em>IDENTIFY AND CAPTURE UNIT DESIGNATED 'WHITE WOLF' — visual data packet attached<em>  
><em>why are you here?<em>  
><em>REVERSE ENGINEER TECHNOLOGY<em>

_IMPROVE US  
>will you show us the way...?<em>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Shit!" <em>cursed Neil over the dropship's intercom. The ship shook, having narrowly avoid an anti-air missile. _"Everyone, keep calm, but this area's too hot for a rappelling! Everyone get your gas launchers out and prepare to drop!"_

As the seats shifted and the hatches beneath the marines opened up, Garrus made his way to the main doors.

_"I'm going to drop you on the street right next to the Mall!" _said Neil. _"Pull the big yellow lever—"_

"WOOHOO!" shouted Olsen as he pulled his emergency drop lever. "Here I come your robot bastaaarrrrrds..." His voice was quickly muted by both wind and distance.

_"—on my mark!"_

"Oh God, Olsen just dropped!"screamed Ashley in disbelief as Anderson and Jacob cursed the foolish marine.

"I'm sure he'll be fine," said Ramsus quickly.

_"Mark!"_

To Williams, the idea of simply free falling straight onto asphalt seemed downright suicidal, but she kept her cool, correctly predicted where she would fall, and launched a canister at the spot. A thick cloud of green mist blew up below her, so dense it flowed like liquid.

Bullets whizzed past her, some even hitting her shields, but the flying Turian merc had her and the other marines covered. He shot the attacking Geth dead before they could injure or kill anyone. She had to admit, he was good. Real good.

She hit the cushion of high-density gas at high speed, and yet she felt like she was floating — no, swimming — in the stuff as it gently broke her fall. She held her breath, not wanting to breathe it in and drown.

_"Get inside the Mall ASAP and make your way up!" _said the Copperhead pilot over codec as the ship flew away. "_I'll keep the drones distracted and provide air support when I can!"_

The HD gas dissolved quickly around Williams, and she stood on her two feet, ready to destroy some machines.

_"Man, that was close! Hey, where is everyone else?! I— urgh!" _Olsen's death rattle rang out in the TEAMCOM as his vitals flatlined in the squad's tactical HUD.

"Shit!" cursed Williams. "They got Olsen!"

"NO TIME FOR THAT! GETH APC INCOMING!" shouted Jacob. True enough, a hovering Geth armoured vehicle turned a corner down the street and sped at them, a Krogan trooper manning a heavy high-caliber machine gun on top of it. It fired at the squad, forcing everyone into cover.

Almost everyone.

Ramsus had been the last to make the drop, and he was about to land right on top of the APC when the Krogan noticed him and shot at him. Ramsus laughed, batting the bullets away with his sword alight with biotic energy. He brought his sword overhead and increased his mass signature tenfold as he landed right in front of the Krogan trooper. The APC tipped downward violently and its nose screeched into the asphalt. The trooper was catapulted right into Ramsus' waiting blade.

And because bisecting a Krogan wasn't enough, Ramsus slashed the flying body in four, then eight parts, taking delight in the rain of blood. The APC's other riders, Geth Troopers and Hunters, tried to exit the vehicle, but Ramsus tossed a Singularity through the open gun turret and casually leapt off the vehicle as it collapsed in on itself.

"...Holy shit," muttered Jacob. "I thought he was an Adept, not a goddamned crazed Vanguard!"

Anderson had no time to voice his own bewilderment when he heard the familiar sound of Geth Juggernauts stomping around a nearby corner. Only, as Anderson soon realized as they came into view, these Juggernauts had four legs, not two, and were not armed with small Gatling guns.

These ones wielded _Dragon's Teeth like lances._ One of the Centaurs — the leader — had its vile weapon slung over its shoulder with three people skewered like pieces of meat on a kebab, and on the tip of it was none other than Olsen.

The Geth Centaur Leader swung its Dragon's Lance, and the three corpses flew off at the squad, waking up in mid-air, snarling. They were quickly dispatched, though Olsen had managed to tear out Kaplan's throat. The Alliance Marine's hesitation at shooting a former comrade had cost him his life.

Anderson did the merciful thing: "Frag out!" and tossed a grenade at Olsen and Kaplan, destroying both men utterly so that they would not rise again.

The Centaurs quickly found themselves under fire from the Turian's energy weapon. One fell, while the other two began to charge at the squad, intending to skewer and convert them to Saren's cause. Behind them was a horde of Husks, civilians, SSC officers, even Krogan that had been wounded in combat and coldly brought back to fighting shape by the machines' horrible technology.

There were hundreds of Husks, coming from all sides.

"Get into the Mall!" shouted Anderson. "Move! Move! MOVE!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal tore into the last of the Geth Hoppers keeping watch over the prisoners, and he quickly freed the most able bodied of the bunch and left them to free the others. He didn't wait for them to react to his presence, or his form.<p>

Adam, meanwhile, was putting a new spin on an old tactic.

_"Shadow! Do you read?" _Garrus' voice boomed on the encrypted Codec channel. Adam could _feel_ the Geth trying to resolve the encryption, but he countered them quickly just as he dropped a mass-enhanced cargo container on an incoming Geth Wanzer, crushing it flat.

_"Shadow here; I read you!"_

_"We've encountered four legged Geth armed with Dragon's Teeth!"_

_"Oh no... I was wondering why they were keeping prisoners..."_

_"I know. If you encounter them, do not engage in hand to hand!"_

_"I'll try not to. I'm just a kilometre and a half away from Devereaux's position; how are you doing?"_

_"Could be better! Right now we're —WHOA!— right now the marines are making their way up the Mall while keeping hundreds of Husks funnelled into kill zones— escalators, and the like. It's working so far, but the marineshave lost two men already. Me and Mrs. Blonde are focusing on clearing the upper floors of Geth troopers."_

_"Hang in there."_

_"You too! Blue out!"_

Adam cut off the connection to his partner and opened one with Hannibal.

_"How did it go?"_

_**"The civilians are safe for now,"**_ growled Hannibal subvocally. "_**I detect no further hostiles."**_

"Good, let's hurry!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Geth Wanzers looked a lot like the Stork IIc, Elsa observed, with their big thighs and biceps tapering into long, thin mechanical limbs. Their artificial muscles were exposed, while the chest area was covered in some kind of segmented plastic. According to Tali, the young Quarian engineer, this was typical of the Geth. While they understood the need to create specialized units, their strategy had always been to rely on a multitude of cheaply-made units rather than focus on making groups of elites. That was their strength.<p>

Their weakness? Individually, they were really shitty fighters. And whatever it was that made Wanzers such terrors on the battlefield, the Geth had missed it entirely when they started imitating them. Whatever it was that made Wanzers so dangerous, Elsa and Nathaniel had it in spades.

Especially Nathaniel.

"RAAAAAAARGH!" was all Elsa could hear on the TEAMCOM she had set up with Lees and his men. She had initially ordered him to focus on infantry, and he did so just fine. The problem was that with two Leosocial machine pistols, he quickly ran out of infantry to kill. That only left the the Geth Wanzers, and he often used the Tendus' squat form to his advantage. Tackle 'em and shoot 'em when they're down; that was Lees' tactic, and it was pretty effective.

Elsa's favored tactic at this point was to keep her Zenith on the move by skating and activating her jumpjets to be brought into close quarters with the enemy. With Geth being so poor at CQC, she had no trouble burying the sharp corner of her 120mm thick shield inside their chests to kill the 'pilots'. The shield wasn't a pile bunker, but the Geth Wanzers were so poorly armoured that it wasn't a problem. It was part of the reason she had decided to make her stand here: the maze of streets and buildings kept the Geth from pressing their advantage of numbers and ranged combat.

Their air support, however, was starting to get problematic, and Carver had missed a rocket drone. Again. Elsa took another Armor Piercing rocket in the kinetic barriers, and she was not happy.

Neither was Lees.

_"CARVER! You worthless maggot — did you MISS AGAIN?! DO YOU HAVE ELVES MAKING YOU AS MANY ROCKETS AS YOU LIKE IN THERE?!"_

_"I'm sorry! I was sure I had a lock this time!"_

_"You know what?! I'm not gonna die here! I'm going to live just long enough to shove my boot up your ass! Get your shit together, Carver!"_

_"Sir! Yes, sir!"_ Carver's next shot something

"Save it for the Geth, Lees," said Elsa as she shot the remaining drones out of the sky. Wielding a long gun with one hand was tricky, even with a Wanzer, but Elsa had plenty of practice. "I have no more enemies on my scope. We should be fine for a while."

_"Can we leave, now?"_ asked one of the soldiers. He was the one that had nearly gotten killed by one of the Geth pilots when it had escaped from its larger frame. Raffaeli's quick thinking had saved his life.

"It's only been two minutes," said Elsa. "A few more, and the civilians should be safe, and then we can make a run for it."

_**"There's nowhere left to run, woman," **_said the Krogan. His face appeared in a box on the upper right corner of her HUD. _**"Such determination just to save a handful of peons." **_He chuckled. _**"My men are going to tear open that hole, find them, rape them, and kill them. You fight in VAIN."**_

"Wreav." Elsa spat. "How did you get this frequency?!"

_**"The Geth gave to me. So... you still live? Pah, Geth... how can something without a soul be called a proper warrior? They can't even kill a WOMAN."**_

"This woman has got a 35 ton death machine!"

_**"And what are you without it? NOTHING. In a few moments, a handful of real warriors is going to show you your proper place."**_

Another wave of Geth Wanzers appeared on Elsa's radar, this one three times bigger than the last. She couldn't find any signs of infantry, however, and warned Lees to watch out for more of these cloaked robots.

None came, and by the time Elsa had gone through nearly a third of the Wanzer Squad, twelve small but very bright heat signatures appeared on her sensors.

"We've got 12 bogeys coming at us as the crow flies!" warned Elsa over the TEAMCOM.

_"Drones?!"_ asked Lees, his transmission laced with gunfire.

"No..."

The hot bogeys landed on rooftops, and Elsa easily caught sight of them. These were Krogan, their heavy armour painted with red streaks, and festooned with bloody trophies both old and very recent. Strapped to their backs were large tanks, with multiple tubes feeding fuel to oversized, blackened nozzles. Comically, they wore goggles instead of helmets. Less comical were their insane grins and vicious looking weapons. Grenade launchers, shotguns, machines guns, hatchets... all adorned with spikes and freshly skinned skulls.

"Ah, merde! Lees, we've got Krogan infantry with Jet packs!"

"Shit! Don't let them get in the building, my men can't handle them!"

As the two Wanzer pilots tried to fend off both Geth Wanzers and Krogan Jetpack troopers, one of the latter had managed to propel himself right through a window.

"NO!" Lees screamed. "Men! You're got incoming!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Carver Havik was not having the best of days. His brother had died in the initial attack, his mother and sister were nowhere to be found, and he had just lost a friend to a Krogan with a serrated hatchet. He was gurgling out his last breath as the insane-looking giant lizard savoured the kill.<p>

When the ammo counter in his Cousar Crowe beeped zero and the Krogan looked at him like he was dinner, Carver knew the day would not end on a happy note.

_Have to reload have to reload have to reload_

As he fumbled with the spare clip, the familiar hiss of Raffaeli's cables zipped from the broken sunroof and clamped themselves on the Krogan's shoulder and chest. Raffaeli jumped and allowed the cables to rappel back, adding a great deal of force to the cement block he slammed into the Krogan's exposed face. Stunned, the Krogan was powerless to stop Raffaeli's onslaught of SMG fire to his face. It took a full second before he finally died.

Carver had just finished reloading. "Oh thank god, I thought I was going to—"

"—Behind you!"

"Wh— Oh fuck!" Carver reacted to the sudden appearance of another Rocket Krogan as much as anyone would: He fired his GEP at it, and without a proper lock, the missile failed to explode on impact. The Krogan looked at the rocket buried in his chest, bewildered.

Raffaeli fired his tow cable at Carver and pulled him away behind cover before the missile automatically exploded once it ran out of fuel. Krogan flesh and blood splattered the entire room.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>One of Lees' Leosocials ran out of ammo, and without a spare ammo block he threw the useless weapon away in favor of a Wanzer-sized combat knife he had kept from his days in the OCU military. His superior in the SSC had not approved, but that superior's 'standard' electrified stick had not kept him from serving as lunch for an oversized frog.<p>

_**"This is DARPA Mech Shadow 108. ETA: One minute."**_

Elsa ignored the machine. For all she knew, this was the Geth or Wreav taunting her. She bashed a Krogan away with her metal shield, and launched a couple of her PAX-9 Missiles at an approaching transport, shooting it out of the sky. She hoped that the platforms inside of it would perish in the crash. She suspected that they wouldn't be so lucky.

Lees slashed at one of the Krogan that had made a rocket jump to grab him out of his cockpit. The others came at him, one at a time, bellowing challenges. They wanted Lee's head, and the honor of taking it would not be tainted by the interference of others. For now, that was his saving grace.

Elsa was still busy with the large group of imitation Wanzers, and they had gotten wise to her game. They stayed on top of the buildings, now, taking shots at her from everywhere. Her shields, both kinetic and solid, held fast as she gunned two more of them down with her Cemetery IX. That's when they started bombarding her with Siege Pulses from cover, forcing her to keep her distance.

_**"ETA: 30 seconds."**_

Lees' other gun ran out as well, and all he had to fight the Krogan on his Wanzer were its fist and the knife. Seeing that the Krogan were taking their sweet time, a Geth Wanzer tossed a Siege Pulse right in the Tendus' chest. This coincided with a Graal Spike Thrower shot in the back of the squat machine's knee, causing it to fall over, disabled.

"Lees!" Elsa called out. She tried to get to him, but she was pinned. She redoubled her efforts in killing the Geth Wanzers pinning her down, but her hopes were quickly dashed when the platforms from the crashed dropship joined the fray, just as a Geth Corvette loomed overhead and provided air support.

Meanwhile, Lees had managed to crawl out of his Tendus and kill a Krogan with his shotgun, and was savagely hacking away at a Krogan's face with a leaf-shaped hatchet. "Elsa!" he roared into his headset. "We're as good as dead! We bought the civilians enough time! Run!"

So soon after Hayha's death, that was the worst thing Elsa could hear. "No! I won't abandon you! I refuse!"

_"How incredibly like a WOMAN," _taunted Wreav. _"Getting a MALE, a REAL warrior, to fight and die for you while you COWER inside your machine! You have no right to fight and die next to him! I will have you IMPALED and spend the rest of your pathetic existence as a dried-up thrall!"_

"Ta gueule!"

_**"ETA: 10 seconds."**_

"I said shut up!" roared Elsa in frustration. A couple of mechs would make no difference. Damn that dropship pilot! She needed soldiers! Real soldiers! Alone, she could only deal with the Geth and Krogan that tried to storm her position. Every time she tried to take a shot and give Lees a chance to make it to the building, every single Geth in the area suppressed her immediately. Her kinetic shields barely lasted half a second under their combined fire.

A Geth Wanzer, emboldened by the reinforcements, grabbed Lees with its free hand, not caring about the Krogan that wanted him dead for their own honor. It tilted its large head, and stared at the human with its optic, probably wondering how such a creature had defied probability and killed so many of their numbers. Lees spat in its flashlight of an eye, defiant to the end.

"Elsa!" screamed Lees. "We'll see each in —ARGH!— in hell! And when we do first drinks will be on me!"

The Geth started to squeeze.

"NO!"

_**"We have arrived."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Geth Stalker GS-514, stuck like a spider on a nearby wall, watched as the unknown quadruped mech —UPDATE identification 'White Wolf' — spun towards Geth Type W Platform 38 11 83, specifically its left forearm. 38 11 38 attempted to hurry with the termination of Anomalous Human pilot. It failed: its hand was sliced off and vanished in a blur of biotic energy too quick for the Geth Stalker to capture. White Wolf then bisected 38 11 38 despite its attempt at evasion. There was no time for the 38 11 38's five hundred processes to transfer away.<p>

White Wolf then proceeded to attack the Geth Trooper platform fireteams. With instructions to capture the mech, they did not fight at full potential, waiting for GS-514 to disable it with Tech attacks.

_Acquiring Target — distance 50 meters — Sabotage tech mine loaded — probability of success unacceptable — relocating...done — target acquired, acceptable risk of failure — platform consensus reached: launch attack_

The mech designated White Wolf kicked itself off of a wall, avoiding the tech mine.

_Reacquire Target — Target found 41 meters — Sabotage tech mine loaded — platform consensus reached: launch attack_

The mech kicked itself off a wall again, and despite GS-514's attempts at predicting its moves, the Stalker missed again.

_Reacquire Target — Target found 20 meters — launch — missed_

_Reacquire Target — Target found 12 meters — launch — missed_

_Reacquire Target — Target found 6 meters — launch — missed_

_Reacquire Target — Target found 2 meters — ALERT INCOMING MELEE ATTACK — REDEPLOY — Error! — Severe Damage reported on lower left leg actuators 1 through 4 — Target reacquired — DISTANCE 0.05 METERS_

The last images GS-514's processes received through their main optic was the White Wolf's scalpel teeth. The 245 processes were quickly transmitted to the nearest ship, then another and another, until they found their way back to 01 along with hundreds of other programs that survived the White Wolf. The effectiveness of the design proven, the programs shared their experience and sensor data.

The White Wolf's design would be hybridized with Geth technology.

The Geth would be one step closer to perfection.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>When the dark figure burst through the window (Carver would hate the sound of glass breaking for as long as he would live) with someone wrapped in a plastic hand big enough to wrap itself around his thighs and abdomen, Carver did not know how to react. He could shoot the robot, but then Lees would...<p>

_Lees._

Carver and Raffaeli came over to the fallen soldier without a thought as the robot pried the giant Geth fingers open. **"This citizen requires medical attention,"** it said, its voice a cold, deep droning.

"Oh mon dieu!" muttered Raffaeli as he knelt besides the groaning Sergeant. "Please tell me you have a first aid suite in your Omni-Tool!"

"Of course I do!" Carver shot back, offended that Raffaeli assumed he was that much of a screw-up. SSC officers were required to have a First Aid package installed to stabilize the wounded should EMTs be unavailable.

**"This unit shall leave you to it and engage hostiles." **The mech leapt out through another window.

Carver dialed up his First Aid App. "Okay, first, scan the wounded — oh god, that's a lot of broken bits..."

Lees' eyes opened suddenly, and looked at nothing for a bit. Finally, he focused on Raffaeli. "You... why... why aren't you fighting? Why... why can't I feel my legs?"

"You're badly wounded, sir. We're fixing you."

"And..." he gulped and winced. "And the others? I don't hear guns firing..."

"...It's just me and Carver, sir. Everyone else is dead."

"...Oh."

"Sir!" shouted Carver, "This might hurt a bit!" The Omni-Tool formed a long syringe filled with Medi-gel, and Carver stabbed it deeply in Lees' abdomen.

"AAAAAAAAAARG YOU FUCKER! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU!"

"I have to stop the internal bleeding!"

"GIVE ME A PAIN KILLER FIRST YOU **STUPID** LIMEY FUCK-UP!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>For some reason, the Geth had lost all interest in Elsa and focused on the newcomers. She was a bit offended that a 35-ton multi-million Euro war machine didn't rate quite as high as a US combat mech — a very fast combat mech, as it seemed to <em>teleport<em> from Trooper to Trooper as it stabbed them in a sweet spot — but she wasn't one to ignore an opportunity when it presented itself. She Dashed into position, and flanked the fire-team of Geth Wanzers that had been such a pain in her ass. They were dealt with in seconds, their shields unable to deal with a full-auto barrage from a Cemetery IX. As she flew into another favourable position by using her jump-pack, she noticed that even the corvette was focusing on the black mech, firing every single one of its heavy machine guns at it and completely ignoring her.

The UNAS mech used some kind of electromagnetic shield to make the bullets spin around him.

Elsa made the corvette regret its focus by firing her last four missiles at it, one at a time in quick succession. It reacted quickly to the incoming ordnance, but only manage to shoot out one of the missiles. The other three found their mark, and the small ship retreated, its belly a twisted, smoking ruin. The mech, for its part, gathered the bullets that orbited him into his palm and fired the swirling cluster of hundreds blue pulses like a shotgun blast, taking down an entire Geth Wanzer. Elsa had admit, that was really impressive.

After that, it was just a mop-up.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Chief Kull of Clan Blood Comet, slayer of a hundred Asari Witches at the first battle of Agessia, had engaged the Dark Warrior with a honourable bellow of challenge and swung his thick cleaver at its back.<p>

The Dark Warrior's reply to the challenge had been a sidekick to the left pair of kidneys, which sent the elder Chief flying 6 meters into a nearby wall of cement. He made a loud thud as his body cracked the cement, and his jetpack's right nozzle had been crushed, rendering it useless.

Kull shook his head, and watched in impotent fury as the Dark Warrior made quick work of his remaining three warriors. Thinking on his feet, Kull undid the straps of his jetpack, stuck a sticky grenade on the side of the fuel tank, and with yet another roar of fury, he tossed it at the Dark Warrior just as it skewered his last man through the heart. It had no time to dodge. Kill smiled as it became wrapped in flaming jet fuel.

When it stumbled out of the flames, he wasn't all that surprised. In fact, he was quite happy to have the chance to make it a very personal kill. Like a bull he ran forward and slashed at the Dark Warrior's kidney. Its armor absorbed the blow, and it was sent flying. Kull pressed his advantage, and this time he went for the skull, intent on splitting it in two.

The Dark Warrior had recovered more quickly than Kull had anticipated, and knocked the blow aside with its gauntlet, causing Kull to lean in too close, unbalanced. The Warrior then delivered an uppercut to Kull's solar plexus, sending the old Krogan Warrior up eight meters, a height the Warrior easily matched with a single jump. It brought two flaming fists down on Kull's back, and Kull's body cracked the asphalt. Much to his own surprise, he did not die.

The Warrior kicked Kull in the side, rolling him on his broken back, as it was not quite done with him. It straddled him, then proceeded to unleash a flurry of of one-two punches of increasing cadence.

_No! Not like this! An honourable death! A death worthy of song! No one will know how I died!_

As Kull's brains turned to paste, his last, comforting thought was that he had been the last one to fall, and that no one would tell tales of the Dark Warrior.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the Geth worked on breaching the Hotel's defences, Wreav stared at a monitor set up by a tiny floating Geth drone, replaying the holo vid of Kull's death, as recorded by a damaged, cloaked Stalker.<p>

"Who is this... What is this... creature of shadow and flame? Who is this Dark Warrior?"

His questions were only met with silence from both his men and the Geth. Wreav patted his spike maul. Honor demanded that he kill that Warrior. Greed demanded that he turn him into a Thrall. Either way, it was going to be one hell of a fight.

He turned to the Geth drone. "Send this footage to my commanders — tell them to be wary of the Dark Warrior."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal caught the ejecting Geth with his teeth mere inches away from the Wanzer Platform's neck. He chewed and whipped it around like a toy, and once it was completely broken, he spat out the remains.<p>

_**"Combination attack complete. The last Geth Wanzer is dead, pilot included. Shadow? Status?"**_

The mad mixtures of whimpers, grunts, and snarling were not very comforting sounds. Hannibal went looking for Jensen, and found him savaging a Krogan's corpse. 'Corpse' was perhaps too generous a word, as there was little left of the alien but blood splatters and wet chips of bone.

**"Adam..." **Hannibal spoke out loud. **"...he's dead."**

Adam did not reply, nor did he stop.

_"Hannibal!" _Brea's helmeted face came up on a corner of Hannibal's vision. _"Ad— I mean, SHADOW's not responding and his vitals... his heartbeat's at 214 bpm! What's going on?!"_

_**"We are not under attack. However, Adam seems to have... gone insane. Also: He is currently on fire."**_

_"Wh-? Get a goddamned fire extinguisher!"_

_**"That won't do. Judging from the scene I would say he has been doused with rocket fuel. It needs to be washed off."**_

_"There should be a hydrant right next to you! Use it!"_

_**"I am not equipped with a hose."**_

_"JUST DO AS I SAY!"_

Hannibal sliced off the top of a nearby fire hydrant. The thick jet of pressurized water soared in the air, and cold wind and gravity provided Adam with a shower. He still burned, however.

**"I apologize for this, but if you burn any longer, you might be damaged." **Hannibal wrapped the flat of his swordtail around Adam's midsection and held him on top of the water jet.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa tossed the cargo container aside and opened the emergency hatch.<p>

"Alright," her voice blared through the speakers. "You've held the line long enough. It's time for you to go."

"Oh, thank god!" sighed Carver as he and Raffaeli carried Sergeant Lees towards the manhole. The old soldier's torso was wrapped in an Omni-Gel cast to keep his spine from breaking any further.

"Carver," said Raffaeli, "you're going first."

"What? But..."

"I need you at the bottom to receive Lees. He's in no shape to climb down the rungs."

"I...oh, alright. It's the least I can do." Carver went down the hole without further complaint, and Raffaeli stuck his Urban Maneuvering Gear's cords on Lees.

"Raaargh..." slurred Lees, his brain addled by something "I can still fight! Put me in a Wanzer! I'll kick all their asses!..."

"Of course you would, monsieur..."

"Don't monsieur me you French son of a..." Lees' voice became distant and echoing as he was lowered into thefloof.

"Take care of him," said Elsa. "He's a good soldier, and so are you, incidentally."

"Don't worry, I will... and thank you. Where is the black mech? And the dog? We'd all be dead if it weren't for them..."

"That's a good question, but don't worry about it for now. Just go."

Raffaeli joined Lees and Carver at the bottom, and Elsa closed the hatch. She was replacing the cargo container when she received a call from Zead.

_"Lass? Lass! Are ye alright?! We thought we'd lost you for a while, there."_

"Yeah, Geth jamming. But I'm okay: Hein's machine came in the nick of time."

"That's good to hear... Listen, I'm patching you through to the SSV Normandy. She's been providing the Acheron with targeting data for orbital shots."

Elsa came around a corner, looking for the machines. "Alright... patch them through, already."

The face of an unshaven young man appeared on her HUD: _"This is Flight Lieutenant Moreau—"_

"Save the introductions. What's going on?"

_"Well, we thought we were clever taking pot shots at their transports, thinking they had no place to take cover, but..."_

Once again, the sky flickered, and the sound of thick glass breaking echoed through Middle Dosadi.

"Bordel!" cursed Elsa. "They're using the arcology as cover."

_"Bloody hell," _said Zead. _"We can't shoot the bloody city. We'd get hanged high and low."_

_"Yeah..." _agreed the Flight Lieutenant. _"Half of their frigates and corvettes are making their way in. The rest are cranking up their shields and moving in to engage the Acheron and its fighters. They're using evasive tactics. Sniping them from orbit won't work anymore."_

_"Don't worry lass, I've ordered my Carryall to get me there, no matter what."_

_"Do you need us to provide cover?"_

_"Nah, stay there and keep an eye on the Geth, and keep us appraised of their movements."_

_"As you wish... Joker out."_

_"Good luck, lass. Zead out."_

Elsa sighed. "Now, where is this dark knight in bloody armour?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam felt like he was floating in the dark, and in that void the voices of the many people that died on Elysium surrounded him. Rage was boiling in his heart and fear froze his mind. He felt like an animal.<p>

He felt like the Shadow of Elysium again.

_It's hot._

Fire. He remembered there had been fire. There was always fire.

_"Adam...?"_

The voice belonged to every woman that he had ever loved, and ever hated, and ever forgotten.

_"Adam!"_

He felt cold, now, and felt the fear and rage wash away.

_"Answer me..."_

LOAD BIOS  
>LOAD APS-OS version 1.4b<br>MEMORY SET  
>SYSTEM STATUS OK<p>

ERROR - SUIT POWER LEVELS AT 298.62 PERCENT PLEASE CONTACT BATTERY MANUFACTURER.  
>WARNING - SUIT TEMPERATURE ABOVE NORMAL -APPLY COOLANT<br>COOLANT APPLIED

SHINKAWA APS 108 OS Developer Edition  
>WELCOME, WEARER<p>

ERROR - HELMET OPTICS COMPROMISED  
>OPENING FACEPLATE.<p>

Bright artificial sunlight pierced Adam's eyes, causing a moment of discomfort. Rivulets of water flowed and scattered into beads in front of his face, the glass keeping it from becoming wet.

The owner of the voice calling out to him became clearer.

"Brea?" he muttered.

_"Ah... you're awake. Good."_

"What happened?"

**"As far as I can tell, a Krogan threw a canister of ignited fuel at you, and you went berserk," **said Hannibal. He had an anti-materiel rifle clutched with his teeth. "**Are you alright?"**

"I feel like I ran a marathon. Or three. Whew... Were you the one that hosed me down?"

"_It was my idea, actually_," said Brea. Adam checked his suit temperature. It was dropping steadily. The water was almost ice cold.

"Great, now whenever you talk all I'll be able to think about is a cold shower."

"_...What the hell is that supposed to mean._"

"Shit, that came out wrong. I—"

"—_Just get over here!_" snapped Brea. "_We just finished rescuing the Deep Eyes. We need to think of a way to get inside Upper Dosadi. If Wreav is so interested in getting in there, then so should we._"

"Great, because the last time was so much fun. I'm on my way. Shadow out."

Adam heard a clatter besides him. Hannibal had just dropped the weapon at his feet.

"What's that for?" asked Adam as he picked up the rifle. Another cheap gunpowder weapon. "Well, besides the obvious..."

**"You should avoid melee combat for a while."**

Adam was about to protest that he was fine, but the heavy footfalls of a Zenith approached.

"HEY! ROBOT!"

"**Polarize your visor**," said Hannibal.

Adam did so, and approached the six meter tall war machine. It had taken quite a few hits, but it was still functional.

"YOU LOOK LIKE SHIT," Elsa's voice boomed throught the Zenith's speakers. "ARE YOU STILL FUNCTIONAL?"

Adam was about to make a cutting remark, but remembered that he was supposed to play the part of a robot. That had been Hein's idea, and Adam, lacking any other ideas to maintain his identity a secret, had gone along with it.

He still felt like a tit, though.

**"This unit is 90 percent functional." **That was a bit of bullshit on his part. He had no idea what that percentage actually meant. His helmet's optics had been warped by the heat, but besides that his HUD didn't report anything else.

The Zenith knelt down. "CAN YOU FOLLOW MY ORDERS?"

Adam thought about what a DARPA robot would say, then said it. **"This unit has been ordered to follow your instructions as long as they do not conflict with UNAS and DARPA's interests."**

"GOOD ENOUGH." The Zenith held out her hand. "GET ON. I'M GOING TO REJOIN SOME AMERICAN FORCES IN DOSADI. I'M PROBABLY GOING TO NEED SOMEONE TO KEEP INFANTRY OFF MY BACK."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa lifted the DARPA Mech and dropped it between the Zenith's head and its shoulder, giving herself an anti-personnel turret.<p>

"What about the dog?" she asked. "Can it talk, too?"

_**"WOOF. WOOF."**_

"...Oh, fantastic," she said sarcastically.

_**"Unit K9 reports that it will scout ahead for hostiles,"**_said the 108.

"Good." Elsa set her Zenith for a Dash and pushed the throttle to 120 kilometres per hour. She watched the dog mech speed off. It was going nearly twice as fast. "Got that from two Woofs, eh?"

_**"...Yes."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"K9?"<strong>_ asked Hannibal, his tone a little peeved.

_"It was all I could think off the top of my head. Sorry." _Adam clutched the Zenith's handle bar with one hand, and kept the anti-materiel rifle steady with the other. _"You really should have gotten me an assault rifle: Sniping isn't my specialty."_

The tiny silhouette of a Geth appeared on Adam's HUD, with 140m written just underneath it. _**"Geth Sniper."**_

_"Got it." _Adam aimed for center mass and fired. Garrus, he noted, would have pulled off the necessary neck shot that would have completely disabled the Geth. Adam's shot still proved critical, and the silhouette went down._"Good eyes, Hannibal."_

_**"Thank you. Engaging Heavy Weapon Platform Squad... Combination attack complete. Squad terminated."**_

Adam, in his robot voice, reported to Elsa that the way was clear, and she drove the Zenith on a highway to Paulownia Mall.

_"You know, I'm faster than you are. I can scout ahead."_

_**"Like I said, you should avoid close-quarter combat for a while. Geth Missile Drone ahead. Marking."**_

Adam's first shot missed, but the next found its mark. _"Got it. What do you mean?"_

_**"In order to be victorious in hand-to-hand combat, one must tap into something deeply primal. This is why the Geth are such poor combatants at close range: They lack brutality."**_

_"Nonsense." _Adam shot a pursuing Geth APC in the stabilizer, giving Elsa ample opportunity to shoot it up with her auto-cannon. _"I've won plenty of fights by keeping calm and using my head."_

_**"Then those you defeated that way were not your intellectual equal. When ALL factors are equal -Strength, Intelligence, Resilience... the victor is almost always the one with the strongest will, and the power of the will is tapped from the fury of the soul... And yours is a fury that cannot be controlled. I should know: I am the same... Target Marked."**_

Another Geth Prime went down, and its squad's effectiveness was diminished considerably, allowing Hannibal to make quick work of it. Adam had to shoot a geth rocket in mid-air with Sasha. _"Could we save the philosophy forwhen we're not being attacked by an army of killer robots?"_

_**"As you w— Uh oh."**_

_"Uh oh?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Avengers 2012 Soundtrack - Assemble]<strong>_

More enemy contacts had just appeared on Elsa's HUD when the unkempt face of the Alliance helmsman reappeared: _"Normandy here! Er, LT? Are you by any chance in the eastern part of Middle Dosadi?"_

"This is Devereaux. As a matter of fact I am, why?"

"Oh, nothing... except you've got three Geth corvettes and a frigate incoming. Nothing too major."

"Nothing too major, hm?" asked Elsa, not appreciating the sarcasm.

"Okay, well, we're getting mixed readings, so there might be a few drones."

"Wreav must really want me dead. Thanks for the warning, Normandy. Devereaux out." She cut the connection to the Alliance frigate. "Hey! Robot! We've got more of your kind incoming! Think you can keep them off my back?"

**"This unit—"**

"At 225 kilometers per hour?" asked Elsa as she set her backpack's jets to boost her top speed.

**"...This unit will request K9 to bring it a Cousar Crowe GEP Gun."**

"Smart robot."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Another large Geth downed, and Adam was out of ammo. <em>"I'm out! Need something else, Hannibal!"<em>

After easily tearing his way into an SSC emergency weapons locker, Hannibal ran full speed besides the Zenith with a weapon clutched between its teeth and spare mags stuck on its back. _**"HERE!" **_he shouted as he tossed the weapon at Adam, who caught it easily.

The Geth, as Elsa said, had sent a large number of units against them. First, came the drones. Adam had no trouble taking them out of the sky before they could be a problem. When it became clear that attacking from above with light units was suicide, they focused on creating as many obstructions in front of the Zenith by firing their rockets at nearby buildings. That had worked well enough for the Geth transports to catch up and drop more imitation Wanzers around them. Elsa shield bashed the one in her way, but had to turn on her heels and skate backwards to shoot them, even as she had to dodge wrecked cars and other debris.

_**"The Geth are not fighting at their full potential." **_noted Hannibal. "_**Odd."**_

_"I don't suppose it's because they're scared?"_ asked Adam.

_**"I mean they're not playing to their strength: ranged combat... I think they're trying to disable us."**_

_"You're probably right. It would be simpler to bomb the hell out of us. I think I see a frigate close enough to do just that."_

_**"Then we should stay close to the Zenith, lest the Geth destroy it out of hand."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa, Adam and Hannibal took on all comers at 80 km per hour. Nothing the Geth threw at them could hold them for long. Finally, deciding that a change of method was in order, the Geth delivered one of Wreav's Elites — Khel 'Tomkah' Renk — Personally ordered by the Warlord himself to utterly crush Elsa, whatever the cost. Khel Renk had earned his nickname by being a formidable commander and gunner of the Tomkah, a Krogan battle tank.<p>

But Khel Renk had not brought a Tomkah. He had brought a prize he had won from a group of Terran upstart mercenaries with more money than skill. It was a hundred ton, quad-legged machine built decades ago by the Coalition, equipped with an underslung Vulcan gun, two missile launchers, and a 300mm Krogan bazooka on its turret. It had been painted with the Khel colors: Rusty brown splattered with bright orange, with a checker board pattern at the feet and white teeth on the front armour, the Khel clan sigil (An exploding skull) just above plates of high-density steel had been bolted on, along with Geth shield emitters, for extra protection. It was a fusion of Terran engineering, Geth technology, and Krogan Artillery .

"Oh bordel!" c

ursed Elsa as the huge machine — easily the size of four wanzers — landed in front of her, its own skates throwing up sparks as it kept itself and the Zenith at the bazooka's effective range. _"It's a ZHUK!"_

**"THAT'S ROIGHT, LOVE!"** shouted Renk through the Zhuk's loudspeakers, his voice thick with a Khel accent. He tracked the Zenith with the bazooka**. "AND UNCLE RENK? 'ES BRINGING DA BOOM!"**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa fired her jump jets just in time, the explosion that should have destroyed her feet giving both her and the K9 mech a powerful boost. When she landed on the street, four stories below, her landing had been less than graceful, unlike the K9's. She made the Zenith rise to its feet, and checked for the 108. It had crashed into a nearby store, and was just getting out, torn handlebar in hand.<p>

Above her, Elsa could hear the screech of the Zhuk's skates braking.

**"BWAHAHAHAHA! THAT'S ROIGHT! RUN, KITTEN!" **12 streams of smoke streaked out of the Zhuk's back, and were coming right at Elsa.

Standard operating procedure for a Medium Wanzer encountering a mobile weapon was to coordinate fire with squad mates and avoid engaging one from the front, where the armor was usually the strongest. Lacking squad mates and out of missiles, there was only one available solution:

"Run!" she screamed into her mic, as she set her throttle to max. The K9 and the 108 followed her on foot, running besides her even as missiles exploded all around them, pressure waves kicking up dust, broken glass, and chips of concrete. Elsa looked back into the cloud of dust the missiles had cast over the area, and saw the Zhuk burst out of it.

"Over here!" She took a sharp turn into a street too small for the Zhuk to go through, then another, until it could no longer follow or shoot at her Wanzer.

**"AW, NUTS. LOOKS LIKE I LOST YA. I GUESS I SHOULD JUST GIVE UP."**

Just as he said that, a Geth corvette appeared above and began a furious onslaught of gunfire and missiles. She evaded it, only to run into more and more of its friends. The 108 attempted down one with the Cousar Crowe, but it was no use: their shields were just too strong for the one GEP gun.

She was herded back into the main street, where the Zhuk was waiting for her.

**"KIDDING! BWAHAHAHAHA!" **Renk charged full speed at her and renewed his attack and fired all three weapons at her. She dodged the heavy ordnance and took the Vulcan shots in the metal shield. The three corvettes that had herded her floated above the street and prepared to fire...

[3:30]

...A flight of three Rafales streaked by, and their missiles destroyed all three corvettes. A Carryall dropped a trio of Wanzers, the first of which fell between the Zenith and the Zhuk.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Taggart deployed the Liathach's backpack's two arm-mounted 144mm armour plates in front of him, slanting them just so that the bazooka round would be deflected. The munition exploded harmlessly above and behind him.<p>

The Zhuk kept skating forward, charging like a angry, wild beast, and Taggart increased the Liathach's mass signature by 150 percent. The 50-ton machine became more than twice as heavy, as far as the universe was concerned, and heavier than the incoming Zhuk. The air briefly warped around the Liathach, and the asphalt cracked under its huge feet. Taggart put his machine's hands forward and tackled the machine, and the rampaging Mobile Weapon came to a halt as the unyielding Liathach's feet tore into the road, kicking up dust and chunks of concrete.

"Hello lass!" greeted Taggart happily, almost oblivious to the monstrous machine he was wrestling with. "How are ye doin'?"

_"Rotten! You're late, Zead!"_ complained Elsa.

_"I'd say we got here in the nick of time!" _said Hermes jokingly. _"Need a fix?"_

_"Leutnant Devereaux!" _asked Zoller. _"__Are you hurt?!"_

"No and no!"

Eventually, the ground gave way, and the Heavy Wanzer fell into the crumbling ground.

Just as planned: Taggart used the leverage to lift and flip the Zhuk on its back.

"Now!" he barked into his headset.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Aye aye!" Zoller loaded a marker-light round into the Ziege and fired the slow-moving projectile into the Zhuk's belly, where it stuck and ignited. "Rafale wing Beta, this is Drake 3! We need an anti-tank missile at Marker-light signal Theta Nine!"<p>

_"This is Beta wing, request is acknowledged, coming in for a pass... Fox Three!"_

The Zhuk was engulfed in smoke and flame.

_"Beta wing to Drake 3, can you confirm kill?"_

"I think we can call it... uh oh."

_"Roger that, Drake 3, we're coming for a second pass."_

"Wait, no!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Shields holding!" reported the Zhuk's mechanic.<p>

Renk spat, and the phlegm landed on the turret's hatch. "_My turn_... FIRE THE EMERGENCY PISTONS!" He roared at his driver.

"Firing the pistons!" the driver replied back.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>To everyone's astonishment, the Zhuk leapt up with a loud bang, and landed upright. Its four legs had been modified with heavy duty, explosion powered pistons designed specifically to flip itself back.<p>

**"THIS IS A GROUND BATTLE, YOU HONORLESS DOGS!" screamed the Zhuk's commander as he** fired fired its countermeasures, causing the Rafales' missiles went wide. He followed that up with a missile strike of his own at the passing Rafales. The fighters, not flying at top speed, were easy marks.

_"Mayday! Mayday! This is Beta wing! We're going down! I repeat, we're going down!"_ The Rafales glided out of sight, spewing black smoke and sparks as they went._ "Ejectiiiiing!"_

_"Scheiße!" _cursed Zoller, his Stoßzahn Funf atop a nearby building. _"I'm tracking their pods!"_

_"They'll be fine, lad!" _said Taggart as he jumped out of the hole he had made, his Wanzer covered in filth slowly washed away by the jets of water of breached plumbing. He took his Heat Hatchet out of its backpack mount and brought his PAX-9 launchers online. _"Worry about us for now!"_

_"Looks like this Kroc wants to do this the hard way," _said Hermes, as he brought his Giza Mk II's 'Grave' machine gun to bear on the Zhuk.

_"Then let's oblige him..." _Elsa replied. _"Drakes! Engage! 108, you stand back: This is a fight between giants!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>From cover, Adam and Hannibal watched on as, with the exception of the sniper on the rooftops, the European Wanzer team manoeuvred around the Zhuk. Adam hoped that, with their tactics, they would defeat the spider-like machine quickly.<p>

It was a sound tactic, it seemed. Both the Medium and Medium-Heavy skated and whittled down its shield, and then the sniper and the Heavy could use their more powerful weapons to punch through the armor.

Unfortunately for all of them, the Geth had mounted some experimental shield technology on the old Terran war machine: bullets weren't being so much blocked as slapped away, a very energy efficient method of active defense.

With bullets not working, the Heavy Wanzer decided to bypass the shields entirely with a melee attack with his Heat Axe. But a Krogan was always ready for close combat, and the Zhuk's pilot spun one of its front legs around, turning into a battering ram, and knocked the Heavy away before it could land a blow.

**"USELESS! USELESS! USELESS!"** taunted the Krogan tank commander.

_"Damn it!" _Adam cursed sub-vocally to Hannibal. _"We have to do something — any ideas?"_

_**"We do not have the firepower to breach that armour."**_

_"You sliced a Geth in two!"_

_**"Geth are lightly armoured and easy to cut. The Krogan bolted high-density metal plates on the Zhuk, even its weak spots — I don't suppose you can use Warp?"**_

_"Err..." _Adam waited fruitlessly for that tingling sensation in the back of his neck_. "...nope."_

_**"Then it would take hundreds of repeated blows with our HF weapons to get through."**_

_"We don't have that kind of time..."_

_**"The Wanzers have the firepower necessary to take the armour down quickly, but can do nothing with the shields active."**_

Adam saw where Hannibal was going with this — his AR HUD highlighted a Geth device on the Zhuk's frame. It was circular, silvery, and three blue lights spun within a wheel. _"The emitters are exposed. One on each leg, four on the body. We move in and take them out and let the Wanzer finish the Zhuk off."_

_**"That is a risky proposition: besides the obvious, the Zhuk is equipped with 'Hedgehog' Anti-Personnel Spigot Mortars. Superheated tungsten shrapnel will rain down on us and make short work of both our shields and armor once they detect us."**_

_"Then we'll have to be too close for them to use them."_

_**"They are **_**Krogan****_. They'll use it point blank."_**

_"I'll have to be careful, then." _And just like that, Adam sped off towards the Zhuk. Hannibal shook his head, wondering if Ramsus and Jensen were not related somehow. They both had a taste for daring, dangerous exploits. It was far more likely they were both just suicidal.

And just like Ramsus, Hannibal did not hesitate to follow Adam into danger.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>[Metal Gear Revengeance OST - Hot Wind Blowing]<p>

_If only we had not wasted all our Snowblind in that last op, _thought Elsa, as she dodged another bazooka shot. The shields' sensors wouldn't be able to detect incoming rounds, and a few well placed missiles would have ended this fight quickly. At this rate, however, the Drakes would run out of ammo, be forced to retreat, and the Zhuk would then catch up to everyone and kill them. _If only I had packed a pile bunker. If only I could get close enough. If only. Si seulement. The two deadliest words in combat._Then, out of the smoke, came the two mechs, rushing at the Zhuk.

_"What the bloody hell is that?" _

said Taggart on the Silver Drakes' Codec."It's the 108 and the K9 — Hein's mechs!" Elsa pinged the 108's signal and quickly got a response. "Hey, Robot! I told you to stand back!"

**_"Moving in to disable enemy shields__,_**_**"** _said the 108**._"Please be wary of friendly fire."_**

_Please be wary of friendly fire?_ If Elsa didn't know any better, she could have sworn that robot was giving her some sass."Tch! Fine! Everyone, cease fire! Follow and assist the 108 whenever and however possible!"_"What could a mech possibly do against a Geth-augmented Mobile Weapon?!"_ asked Zoller._"Do you have a better plan, kid?"_ responded Hermes. _"Can't hurt to give it a shot, can it?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"I SEE YOU, DARK WARRIOR!" <strong>__The Zhuk's commander lauged.__** "FULL SPEED BACKWARDS!"**_

With Hannibal right behind him, Adam ran full speed ahead at the retreating Mobile Weapon. Its Vulcan gun spewed bullets at him, but his elbow-mounted Pelta shield up, the 2mm slugs were easily deflected. Zero Shifting right at the Zhuk, Adam thought, might be a bad idea, as its shields might mistake him for a projectile and knock him away.

When the Zhuk slowed down to brace itself, keeping its bazooka steady for a shot, Adam had his chance: he leapt towards the left foreleg. Sensing his intent, the commander triggered the shield module's protective armour. Adam caught the two closing plates just in time, and tore them off.

_**"EAT HOT METAL RAIN!" **_The Krogan tank commander launched a trio of Hedgehogs just as Adam was about to plunge his Fandango into the spinning emitter. Adam kicked quickly and gracefully kicked himself off the Mobile Weapon. The Hedgehogs soared into the air; two of them exploded under a hail of gunfire from the Zenith, and one of them showered the Zhuk with hot metal... which barely scratched the armor. Adam, of course, was safely out of the way

Hannibal was quick on the follow up. _**"Initiating spinning claw attack." **_He leapt towards the emitter, his entire body spinning in counter to the emitter's own spin, and buried one of his claws into the sensitive piece of Geth machinery, destroying its insides. _**"Attack completed."**_

_"Do you even need to say that?"_

_**"No."**_

_"...Right." _Adam switched channels. _**"108 reporting: forward left **__**s**__**hield emitter has been destroyed."**_

_"Roger that 108,__" _Elsa replied. _"Everyone! Focus on the Zhuk's 2 o'clock!"_

Adam had was just about stab the forward right leg's shield emitter when the tank commander sent the Zhuk into a spin, allowing the other shield emitters to evenly defend against the renewed onslaught of the Silver Drakes. Adam held on for dear life. To his surprise, the Zhuk's gunner managed to time a shot right at the Sniper Wanzer standing atop a nearby building.

And because that wasn't enough, he sent a volley of missiles at it, for good measure.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Oh mein gott!" <em>screamed Zoller as the bazooka blast knocked his Wanzer off its feet.

"Zoller! Take cov—"

The following missile blast engulfed the roof the Stoßzahn stood on, and Zoller screamed in terror into his microphone before his voice was drowned in static.

"ZOLLER!"

_"Blast it!"_ cursed Hermes as he loaded a new ammo block into his Grave. _"The shields are weakening a bit faster but at this rate we'll deplete them in ten minutes!"_

"That's too long! 108! K9! Keep it up!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>That's what I'm trying to do! <em>thought Adam, frustrated, as he struggled against the Zhuk's centrifugal force. With only one hand to work with and the Geth emitter fully protected, Adam punched it over and over again until the shell was well and deeply dented.

_**"I have destroyed the forward emitter," **_reported Hannibal.

_"And I'm pretty sure the forward right one is—"_

The dented emitter spewed sparks as its shell opened, and the three lights seemed to stare at Adam when they lit up like sunlight. Adam was thrown off the Zhuk with pure kinetic force. Time slowed down for Adam as he saw one of the Zhuk's legs coming straight at him. He shielded his face with his arms and braced himself for the blow, loudly thinking 'Tech Armour', hoping it would bring up the barrier in time.

**[stop music]**

THUNK.

Adam was kicked right into the asphalt, the plates of Omni-Gel and his shields having taken the brunt of the impacts. What little kinetic energy that went through, however, had brought a coppery taste up in Adam's mouth as he lay prone on the ground.

"_**Adam!**_" Hannibal called out.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"The Zhuk's forward arc is exposed!"<em> said Hermes. _"Now's our chance!"_

_"Aye!" _agreed Taggart. _"Preparing Alpha Strike!"_

"Wait! You'll hit the mechs!" protested Elsa.

_"They're bleedin' robots! Hein can send me the bill after I save all our lives, aye?!"_

Just as Taggart launched his volley, alarms blared in Elsa' cockpit as the Zhuk sent its own in response. _"Oh mon dieu..."_ she gasped as she saw a swarm of missiles coming at her team.

A swarm of forty-eight.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal heard the roar of two dozen HEAT missiles coming right at him, and he leapt off the Zhuk to avoid being destroyed along with it. As he jumped, he felt the pressure wave of the combined explosions rushing behind him. His shields snapped, and he was sent reeling into a nearby wall. For a moment, all was dark, and his emergency repair system sent his body into a reboot.<p>

While the machine slowly woke itself up, the only thing left aware was the animal's soul.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam felt something push him, and after he was done rolling, his Sentinel health system sent multiple alarms in his AR display. Internal bleeding, fractures... The damage would take an hour to heal, at most.<p>

He was surrounded by smoke. Chunks of debris were still falling all around him. "This is... this is Shadow to Lieutenant Devereaux. Are you... functional." Static answered him, and he wondered what the point of that charade was, now.

He hoped that the Zhuk was a burning husk, torn apart by missile fire. When it burst from the smoke with a roar blaring out of its speakers, he knew he was wrong.

**[resume music - 3:31]**

The two metal legs came down at him, as if the Zhuk was a great, wounded beast intent on mauling him. With no time to think, Adam made his element zero nodes flare and stopped the three-toed metal paws from crushing him. He held fast, gritting his teeth, but he stumbled and fell to a knee as the toes became claws and began to spin, threatening to mash him to pieces.

He watched his power levels drop: 240 percent... 199... 170...

"HA!" cackled the Zhuk's commander. "YOU'RE FINISHED, DARK WARRIOR! YOUR HEAD WILL HAVE A PLACE OF HONOUR ON MY HALL!" The Vulcan gun, aimed at Jensen's head, began to groan as it spun. "REEEJOOOIIIIICE!"

The Ziege's 10mm bullet pierced the Vulcan gun, destroying it completely.

"WHUT?!"

Adam felt a surge in the back of his head and briefly glowed green. Blue lightning crackled all over Adam's body as he erupted into a burst of electricity, pushing the two front legs away. When the Zhuk lost its balance and fell forward towards him, Adam' right fist wrapped itself in glowing solid Omni-Gel plates imbued with dark energy. He uppercutted the Mobile Weapon right in its 'face', denting its armour and sending it reeling back, the heels of its hind legs grinding into sparks against the rough ground.

Adam promptly fell on all fours, exhausted.

Out of the smoke behind him came a Wanzer.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Ich verurteile Sie..."<p>

Zoller drove his Stoßzahn forward at the Zhuk, firing his last three rounds into the Zhuk's underside where the pilot's seat should be, weakening the armor. He discarded the overheating Ziege rifle and switched to his pile bunker. His Wanzer spun on its skates to give the melee weapon that extra kick it needed.

"...zur HÖLLE!" he screamed out of his Wanzer's speakers, just as he fired and buried the spike right into the weakened part of the armour. Krogan blood spurted out, confirming a critical hit.

He retreated just as the Zhuk was about to fall on top of him. With the pilot dead, the machine could no longer move, let alone pull off fancy manoeuvres.

Elsa, in turn, fired her jump jets and landed on top of the Zhuk, grabbing the main gun with both hands to tear it off, giving Taggart the chance to bury his Heat axe into the turret's main rotor. Elsa pulled at the turret, intent on tearing it off.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Renk's eyes strained at the sudden rush of artificial daylight as his Turret was peeled off. He didn't understand that feeling that crept in his two hearts as the Zenith stared down and reached for him. He wondered if that's how all the people he killed felt in their last moments:<p>

Small. Tiny. Insignificant.

"NO!" he screamed as he was grabbed out of his seat, the cables of his command suit snapping from their plugs, the metal hand squeezing him tightly. "I CAN'T LOSE LIKE THIS! I CAN'T!"

A woman's voice came out of the Zenith as its head looked somewhere. He heard sounds his translator didn't catch.

**"Allez, chien-chien... ATTRAPE!"**

As he was thrown in the air, Renk wondered what those alien words meant. He quickly supposed it had something to do with the snarling Mech shaped like a Varren, about to catch him in mid-air with a huge segmented sword for a tail.

**"NO! NOOOOO—"**

Renk felt sharp pains all over his body as the sword tail became a blur all around him. Time slowed down as Renk's well-oxygenated brain forced him to stare down as his body became little chunks, watch as his film-like gelatinous nervous system came apart, firing off the last pulses in each part. In slow-motion, he saw the blade come for his head, and then he saw nothing, and felt nothing, as the Void claimed him forever.

And so ended the life of Khel Renk.

Killed by an imitation of an animal.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The K9 growled as it landed, covered in red Krogan blood, and howled victoriously.<p>

_"Oooh, damn," _said Hermes. Elsa could easily imagine him wince. _"That was vicious."_

"I've had a bad day," Elsa replied. "And he really deserved it. How's the 108?"

"It's down," said Taggart, coldly, as the K9 mech approached the fallen machine. It tapped the 108's head with its nose, then licked its golden visor. _Is it programmed to act like a real dog?_ Elsa thought it was almost adorable, the way it treated the 108 like its master.

Its fallen master. Now Elsa felt a pang of sadness for the robot.

"_Anyways,_" continued Taggart. "_Our good captain tasked us with finding you and placing you under arrest. Do you agree to come in peacefully?_"

"No."

There was a tense beat before Taggart spoke again. "_Well, I fockin' tried."_ Taggart laughed. "_2nd Lieutenant Taggart reporting for duty, lass._"

_"Likewise,"_ said Hermes as brought his Giza closer to the 108.

_"Likewise,"_ said Zoller, after he recovered his rifle. _"I apologize for the static my Chaff Grenades caused, Fraulein."_

"No need. It was good timing on your part."

Zoller focused his Wanzer's main optic on the fallen black mech. _"Such a... _powerful _machine. Standard Operating Procedure against Coalition Mobile Weapons is to engage with three Wanzers at least. This mech did not hesitate to take the Zhuk on its own!"_

_"Don't sound so damned impressed,"_ said Taggart, annoyed. _"Bravery is not a function of robotics."_

_"Perhaps..." _agreed Zoller. _"Are you sure this is a DARPA machine? It has an OCU look about it."_

_"It's definitely high-tech looking," _said Hermes as he reached for it. _"Maybe I should take this back to the Acheron and take it apart? I don't think Hein is in any position to complain."_

The K9 snarled and whipped its sword tail at the Giza's hand, neatly severing one finger.

_"WHOA!" _Hermes' eyes went wide at the sudden damage report.

_"It's hostile!" _shouted Zoller.

_"Hold your fire, idiots." _Elsa switched on her Codec. _"K9? Can you understand me?"_

No answer.

Taggart snarled. _"I'll stomp that bloody mutt flat!"_

"EVERYONE SHUT UP AND HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Elsa barked as she opened up her cockpit and rappelled down to the ground. She approached the K9 with her palms up. It slashed at her feet, drawing a line in the asphalt. The message was clear: _This far, and no further._

"Bon chien-chien..." she soothed, and she removed the electrode helmet, daring to take a step beyond the line. The K9 growled. "Easy... easy..." _This is crazy,_ she thought, _that's not a real dog! That's a killing machine! "_I just want to take him back to the Americans at Paulownia Mall. They can fix him, right?"

The sword tail snapped again, leaving a scratch on Elsa's cheek. _THIS far, and NO further._

"I just want to help, okay?" she smiled, but her eyes were wide with terror.

The K9 began to tremble.

**"Gold..." **said the K9.

"Okay, you can talk, that's good. Now why don't you put the tail down, alright? You're making my men nervous..."

**"Gold? No..."**

_It's talking about my hair. Why is it talking about my hair?_

**"Stay... away...please?"**

"You're a good dog," said Elsa, as she knelt down and reached out. "You're a good dog, right? You don't want to hurt anyone..."

...

_You're a good person._

...

The K9 whimpered and whined, and let its tail go flaccid behind it. It walked up to Elsa and let her scratch its armor plates, the pressure sensors sending soothing signals to its electronic brain.

"Okay, everyone, just calm down, it's going to be alright, see?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam heard the sound of panting and the laughter of a little girl. "Sunny?" he muttered as he opened his eyes, and the laughter became nervous and older.<p>

And French.

He rose stiffly on his feet, trying to keep the masquerade up. The distant sounds of explosions and rapid gunfire slowly came to his attention. Adam looked down at Elsa: She seemed so small, now that she was out of her Wanzer. At one meter fifty-seven, she wasn't that much taller than Manah. Tali towered over her.

Tali. Manah. He realized that ever since he dropped into Peak 15 he hadn't spared a thought for either of them. Kasumi, too... There had not even been any time to say goodbye. He had had to suit up.

"Oh, great," said Elsa as she pried herself off an oddly affectionate Hannibal. "You've got Auto-repair. All this stress for no... no..." She was looking at him straight in the eye, and saw something she recognized.

WARNING: POLARIZED GLASS COMPROMISED. PLEASE HOLD STILL AS OMNI-GEL IS DEPLOYED.

There was a hole in front of his left eye, the core of several cracks in his visor. It sealed itself, but it was too late.

"L'horloger..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There was no mistaking that eye. It was Jake Armitage: The 'clockmaker'. Elsa's mind ran in circles, trying to make sense of what she just saw. Was he sent by Hein to approach her? Why did DARPA have an interest in her? Was Jake Armitage his real name?<p>

"Who are you?" she muttered, unheard by her teammates.

**"...Shadow."**

"That's not..."

**"—please desist from sharing what you've seen with anyone. The 108's internal components are highly classified DARPA intellectual property."**

"What is this nonsense?! You're—"

There was a noise that came from the Zhuk, and Shadow moved quickly between it and the fallen machine. Two Krogan came out, dazed and confused. One of them wore a greasy boilersuit, the other light armor.

"Excuse me..."

'Shadow' approached the two Krogan. **"Surrender,"** he warned.

The Krogan in the light armour grimaced angrily and produced an oversized Krogan handgun.

"Never, Dark Warrior! DIE!"

Shadow never broke stride as he casually drew a revolver and shot the weapon out of the Krogan's hand, destroying a finger in the process. The wounded lizard snarled and tried to tackle Shadow, but two more bullets in the kneecaps put an end to that notion quickly. The Krogan fell, clutching his knees even as he was frothing at the mouth.

Shadow pointed his pistol at the Krogan grease monkey...

...Who promptly put his hands up. "I surrender! I surrender!"

The two surviving tank crewmen were put side by side and forced on their knees, their hands bound. The wounded one, which Elsa recognized as the sensors and comms officer of the tank, judging by his gear, winced when Shadow kicked him in the back of the knee to make him comply. The so-called 'robot' then frisked them, and produced a couple of pocket secretaries. The thick, heavy-duty kind.

Elsa gave Shadow a look that said 'this isn't over' and focused her attention on the Krogan prisoners.

"Talk," she said, drawing her handgun.

"I have nothing to say to you, woman." The radioman spat.

"Err..." the mechanic was about to say something, but the radioman snarled at him.

"You know, I'm getting _really_ tired of being called that. Are all Krogan men this sexist?"

"Are all human women so soft and tiny? I treat you as you deserve: as a weakling."

"I may be a tiny woman, but my friends are really, REALLY big." The Stoßzahn Funf and the Liathach approached from behind her, their footfalls rumbling the ground. "What is Wreav doing here, exactly? Why attack Dosadi? Answer my questions and I'll be merciful."

"Keep your mercy!" The Krogan struggled to stand, and spat on the ground.

"I don't have time for this. We'll take you prisoner and let someone else handle the interrogation."

The radioman laughed. "You do that. And when go to sleep tonight, know that your human mercy will not stop me from breaking free and hunting you down. I shall grant you a brief waking moment to gasp, as my blade penetrating your flesh will be the last thing you ever see."

Elsa clucked her tongue, then said, "Zut." She sighed, disappointed, as she stood aside. "Zoller!"

The 25-ton Wanzer stomped the radio man flat, splattering blood on the Krogan engineer. Elsa turned to him. "Now, I—"

"GAAAH! MY NAME IS KHEL CHARR!" The dark-brown crested Krogan screamed, panicked. "I THINK WOMEN ARE AWESOME! I JUST FIX STUFF! I DIDN'T KNOW WREAV WANTED TO KILL INNOCENT PEOPLE! PLEASE DON'T STOMP MEEEEEEEE!..." The mechanic started to bawl like a baby. A big, half-ton baby.

_"Sounds to me like he just wants to save his own skin!"_ Taggart spat through his speaker.

Shadow knelt in front of the crying Krogan. **"We will not harm you. Calm down. Start from the beginning..."**

The mechanic sniffled. "I was on Illium taking it easy with my girlfriend when my Clan Chief gave the call. He told me he wanted my talents for a brand new machine of his. I didn't want to at first, but a good life on Illium is hard on the bills, you know? I figured... Just this one job! Just keep the Zhuk's original parts working with that weird Geth crap and go home!"

"I'm fairly certain he meant why the Krogan came here with the Geth," said Elsa, a bit annoyed. "Not your life's story."

**"What were you doing before the Zhuk was sent to attack us?" **Shadow asked the mechanic.

"We were on that big suspended island in the middle of this part of the arcology," the mechanic replied. "You know, close to the roof? Wreav wanted us to help bust into the central tower with our main gun to bypass that yellow, shimerring shield protecting the top part of the pyramid... until he changed his mind." He looked at Elsa. "I mean, he REALLY wanted you dead. Like, _wow._"

Elsa quirked an eyebrow. "You don't say."

**"Was there anything else out of the ordinary?"**

Charr thought about the question. "No... I mean, wait! Y-yeah! there were bits of Geth tech all over the island. Cigar shaped spikes—

**"—Dragon's ****T****eeth. We have files on those."**

"No! I don't mean the techno-zombie makers! Those were different! Some kind of sensor pylon. They had these red balls in the middle, and the Geth placed them all over the island. One time they made this screeching, maddening noise, and when they were done, they pointed faint red beams to a single point upwards."

"So, Wreav is interested in Upper Dosadi. Why?"

_"Leutnant? I have Colonel Gadolt on the line__,__"_ said Zoller, before the Krogan could answer. "_He says he and his Marines have linked up with a group of Americans at Paulownia __M__all and are setting up a forward base there. He wants us to meet him for a briefing."_

"Is that so? Well, there's convenient coincidence." Elsa glared at the Krogan, then at Shadow. "I suppose we don't have time for twenty questions, then."

_"Shall I kill this one too, Leutnant?"_

Elsa looked at the terrified Krogan mechanic, wondering if he was worth keeping.

_"Hey, did I hear him right earlier?"_ said Hermes as he made his Giza pull out one of the more intact shield emitters from the fallen Zhuk. _"He worked with this Geth tech? Maybe we should take him prisoner, then. Might be able to tell me how these things __work."_

"I did! I can do that!" Charr nodded desperately. "I can even tune up your machines! Fix them! Upgrade them! Whatever you want!"

"Fine," said Elsa as she walked back to her Wanzer. "Taggart, grab him. But if he tries anything, squeeze him."

Taggart chuckled as he complied.

"Now, I have a rendez-vous with the Americans to keep." Shadow walked up next to her, followed by Hannibal. "So, you can interrogate people?" she asked. "Can you cook, too?"

**"Yes."**

"Cute." She climbed up into the waiting cockpit of the Zenith. "Try and keep up."

She could have offered him a ride, but she was angry at him, and that made her a bit petty.

Not so petty or angry enough to blow his cover, however.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>[Mass Effect 3 Soundtrack - London Hideout]<strong>

The Burger Town was a mostly automated grease burger joint with a drive through built in the middle of a parking lot for flying cars. Because of the risk of a car crashing into the building, its specs called for reinforced cement walls five inches thick sandwiched between two plates of high-density metal, and a shield emitter.

In short, it was a light bunker, and a perfect place to hold the line.

By the time Garrus, Brea, and the Alliance Marines came to help, Grey had mentally tracked the kills: 87 Husks and 42 Geth Platforms (Primes and Hoppers included). Ryan had gotten most of those by virtue of the dead Roegadyn's gatling gun. Vega had managed to down a dropship. That counted as just one, since the platforms inside immediately came out.

After the reinforcements, they went on to take out another 156 Husks, 72 Geth Platforms, and 20 Krogan Jetpack Troopers.

Most of the kills belonged to this Ramsus. He seemed almost bored, but when the Krogan came along he had become utterly ecstatic. The man, Grey noted, seemed to get off on blood. The messier the kill, the stronger his biotics seemed to get. So powerful, in fact, that his Singularity caused two dropships to fuse together.

Grey thought it was all over when the corvettes prepared to fire their bombs at them. The French fighters had streaked by and put an end to that worry, thankfully. Still, by the time the French Marines and their Wanzers started securing the area, there was little left to secure against... Just a huge mess to clean up.

_You Deep Eyes_ _are very good,_ Jondum Bau had said.

"The best," Grey said to himself, as he saw the Silver Drakes approach with his helmet's magnifiers. He saw Jensen running besides them, followed by the robot dog Hein had reprogrammed. He switched to his Codec. "Ryan?"

_"Sir?"_

"I'm going to greet the would-be Spectre. The other one, I mean."

"_Roger that, I'll hold the fort_ _here._"

"Just make sure the Krogan doesn't go berserk on us."

_"Don't worry, the big guy's been quiet... It's a shame we locked him up, we could have used him back there."_

"Yeah, well, he shouldn't have tried to strangle the Salarian."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa parked the Zenith at street level and disembarked, letting Hermes do some quick maintenance on her Wanzer with his Giza's repair backpack, as well as reloading her weapons. Zoller and Taggart had disembarked as well, and walked beside her. Elsa curtly commanded Shadow to accompany her and bring the prisoner with him, thinking that maybe Colonel Gadolt would like to have a chat with the cowardly Krogan. She didn't expect theinterrogation to last long.<p>

Paulownia Mall was an eight story building that had seen better days. Most of the windows had been damaged either by explosives, bullets, or a non-projectile weapon. Then again, the buildings around her had fared no better. Where had all the people inside of them gone, she wondered? Probably down in Lower Dosadi, where it would be relatively safe.

She saw her foggy breath hang in the air. It was getting cold, and dark. She hugged herself reflexively, forgetting that her blue-gray pilot's suit kept her insulated.

Skirmishes were still being fought elsewhere. The noise of gunfire and explosions, and the occasional ungodly scream, was carried to her by the cold wind.

Elsa was anxious to be done with this place, and move on to the Citadel, where she would fail to become a Spectre, and she could move on with her life. If she was lucky, Command would finally give her that dishonourable discharge she had been courting since the very day she had been allowed to step inside a Wanzer.

At the entrance to greet her, besides the EU marines, was a soldier in the oddest hard-suit she had ever seen in her life. It was mostly dark olive, but the oddly shaped helmet and buckles were _gold_. It stood in sharp contrast to the nearby marines in their dark grey hard-suits under olive combat vests, topped by white helmets with Y-shaped gold optics.

"There's my Golden Cyberman!" laughed Taggart. "How're ye doing, boy?"

"Is that a robot, too?" Elsa asked Shadow, stifling a laugh.

**"No,"** Shadow said coldly. She was actually hoping for a chuckle out of him, and felt a bit disappointed.

The golden soldier gave her a salute. It wasn't a proper, European one, but Elsa took it in the spirit it was intended.

"Captain Edward Grey." He flipped up his faceplate. "'Deep Eyes' 1st Special Weapons Group, United States Marines."

Elsa approached him and shook his hand. "Elsa Devereaux. Pleasure to meet you. Did Colonel Gadolt send you?"

"No, I came on my own."

"How courteous," said Zoller, a bit jealous.

"_Also_, I wanted to resume proper command of the 108."

"... I see." Elsa let the charade continue. She figured her Watchmaker had a good reason to stay anonymous. What that reason was, however, she was dying to know.

The marine cleared his throat. "108! Authorization code double zero four five one, you are now back in full command of my unit. Confirm!"

**"...Confirmed. Current orders are to escort this prisoner. Override?"**

"No." Grey turned to Elsa. "Walk with me, Lieutenant."

The inside of the Mall looked no better. Combat engineers were at work putting out fires and manipulating dead bodies into piles with Kinesis Apps loaded in specialized Omni-Tools. Some had been shot in the head. Others were bent and crushed. Some had been sliced apart. All were corrupted by pieces of infectious cybernetics.

"Who did this?" asked Zoller.

"Alliance racked up a body count on their way up," said Grey.

"Impressive."

"Hmph. Maybe. All they had to deal with was a horde of Husks chasing them..."

They approached the center of the atrium. There, impaled on a crystal spire, was the body of a Roegadyn Husk. Judging by the scene, the Ogre had been the focus of a lot of gunfire and melee attacks, and had only died after being thrown off from the top of the Atrium and impaled.

A greataxe of Templar make was stuck in its face.

"...We had something much worse chasing us on our way up," continued Grey.

"Is that...?" muttered Elsa, recognizing the alien's gear.

"Yeah. He was with us. Wreav used some kind of nanite-infused melee weapon on him." He threw an unreadable look at Taggart. "I guess he told you the truth, in a way."

Taggart did not reply.

EU Marines saluted as Elsa passed by. One of them, a woman wearing a Corporal's rank insignia, stopped her group and handed the pilots breather masks. A Félin Assault Rifle was slung over her shoulder.

"Sorry ma'am," said the soldier in her Manchester accent distorted by her helmet's vocalizer. "Techs aren't done disposing of the corpse. It may have rampant nanomachines." She turned to one of the combat engineers setting up a few small pods. "Clark! You almost done?"

"Yep!" replied the tech. "Shield your eyes, everyone!"

A force glove surrounded the body, and a fusion charge exploded inside of it. When the light faded, there was nothing left of Brenin Tymestl.

"Clear!" said the tech, glad at a job well done.

"You can move through," said the Corporal. "but try to avoid any of the corpse piles. We'll be disposing of those soon. Oh, also, the techs got the elevators working if you want to use them."

"Thank you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The painfully slow elevator ride up was awkwardly silent as Elsa watched Shadow in the other one. The Krogan's weight was too much for the elevator to support both him and the rest of the group, so they had to split. The dog mech rode with her, and pawed at the window, its mono-molecular knives for claws scratching the glass. It was, while standing erect, more than two meters tall, and made everyone in the crowded cabin a bit uncomfortable.<p>

Maybe because it was wagging its tail a bit.

"Tell me, Captain Grey... what does the 108 run on?" Elsa asked nonchalantly. "Baby food?"

"Batteries," replied Grey, the implication apparently having gone over his head.

"Mister Grey?" asked Zoller... "How is... how is the Durendal doing?"

"She's staying in formation next to the Acheron, providing Electronic Warframe support. Why do you ask?"

"I... I was concerned about your nurse."

"Nurse? We don't have a nurse."

"What? Are you certain?"

"Pretty sure it's just Dr. Ross working the med bay."

"Ah... err, nevermind then."

Taggart was quick to catch on. "Heh, looks like the boy's in love," he laughed, nudging at Elsa.

"Hm?" she hadn't really been paying attention, instead staring at the other glass elevator. Taggart noted that.

"I'm worried too," he said. "If the Geth manage to hack into him..."

"DARPA's ICE is very good," reassured Grey.

"Not _OCU_ good, I suspect," countered Taggart.

"It's close enough."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Balzac IX<em> Dropships flew by, delivering more Marines from the Acheron's battalion.

The roof's parking lot had been pressed into the role of a landing pad. A handful of _Rafale_ interceptors and a single _Ouragan_ fighter-bomber were being serviced by the crew of a support corvette before they re-entered the fray. A Copperhead — an antique! — was parked nearby, being maintained by a single US marine in a standard M.I.P.S. The wreck of a mostly intact Geth Dropship was being examined.

The Burger Town was the center of activity for the foot-soldiers. Tents had been set up, as well as mid-range comms antennas. Apparently, the fast-food joint had been chosen by Colonel Gadolt as a temporary command center. Elsa would have taken a less exposed area, but then again she wasn't a Colonel. Or a Marine, for that matter, even if she did drive a Wanzer.

Gadolt was apparently busy talking to some Alliance officers, and couldn't see Elsa right away. With 'Shadow' gone to take the prisoner elsewhere, there was little for her to do but wait.

She overheard a few conversations as she walked around the camp:

"Damn, I liked the guy," said the burly young Hispanic man in the dark red Mercenary hard-suit to his likewise dressed but smaller, bald companion. They were both looking down at the bottom of the Atrium through the skylight. "I think... I think he said something to Wrex just before he pushed him off. Did you catch that?"

"No, but my suit recorder did," replied the bald young man as he checked his Omni-tool. "_Cymerwch fy esgyrn i fy nheulu... _According to my translator that means... Oh."

"What?"

"...Take my bones to my family."

"...Shit. Just... Shit! He'd still be alive if that Salarian hadn't insisted so hard on capturing Wreav! Just... shit! I need to punch something!"

Elsa let the large man fume. She then came across an Alliance Marine in white and pink Phoenix heavy armour, who spoke to a shorter but far more athletic woman wearing Corvo infiltration gear, minus the helmet.

"Thanks for saving me from that Hopper back there," said the Alliance Marine.

"I shouldn't have had to save your sorry ass, Allie," replied the shorter woman as she sharpened her Kukri. "The fuck was that back there? You had a good opening to blow it away."

"My gun was overheated. I... got carried away with my Marksman app."

"Then you should have used your pistol."

"It takes too long to switch weapons, the Omni-Blade—"

"Has got a fucking loading time. Don't you Alliance chucklefucks have knives?"

"We do, but it's a utility knife."

"If it's sharp, it's a weapon."

"It's not sharp enough to defeat Geth plating."

"Then buy better knives."

"...It's a situational weapon!" The Alliance soldier argued." A gun works best."

"Yeah, unless you overheat it and you've got no proper swapping technique. You haven't even got a proper holster, for fuck's sake. Or even a strap around your rifle."

There was an awkward silence, and Elsa was about to leave when the Alliance Marine tried another subject.

"What made you join the US Marines? You could have easily made N7, I can tell."

"...I didn't even know that was an option. Even if I did, though, I probably would've stuck with the US Marines, especially after what I've seen."

"Why?"

The woman in the Spec Ops gear snorted. "You Alliance types think it's all about humanity against the aliens."

"In case you haven't noticed, the Geth and the Krogan are being led by a Turian to kill us all."

"And we'll band together and waste him. We're pretty good at doing that. Nah. The aliens won't lay a finger on Earth. When Earth burns, and it will one day, it won't be an alien ship that drops the bomb that does it. It might have the seven blue stars emblazoned on its hull, or twelve stars, or the star and sickle, or the red, white and green moon. Hell, I hear there's unrest out in the colonies, even."

"The colonies would never rebel against Earth! And even if they did, they wouldn't commit genocide just to have independence! That's insane!"

Elsa thought about adding her two cents, but decided that she found the subject utterly depressing.

Colonies, rising up against their Empires. History, repeating itself on a larger, bloodier scale.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Burger Town's basement, amidst crates of protein, vitamins, paint, and Omni-Gel, Adam was getting a tune-up.<p>

_"You have a very interesting internal architecture," _said Burroughs, her ghostly form appearing simultaneously in Adam's AR interface and Grey's left gauntlet. Adam had thought about making a snarky remark in reply, but he felt too tired. _"Diagnostics complete. The suit itself has suffered minor damage from your latest encounter, though there's slight structural fatigue in your fists. Your organic parts, however, need some repairs."_

"Yeah, my Sentinel— urkh!"

_"I know. I'm accelerating its healing process now. It's not Dia, but it'll do."_

Adam felt a crawling sensation all over his abdomen, and a buzz inside of his brain.

_"I've also tweaked your brain's chemistry. You should stay alert and awake for the next few hours."_

Adam wasn't sure he liked a program toying around with his body, but as he sat up from the table there was no arguing the results. He felt... better, as if he hadn't just fought a giant robot. His exhaustion was completely gone, too. "Wow... beats the hell out of coffee."

_"You're welcome," _said the AI gratefully as the cable disconnected itself from the 108 and retracted itself back into Grey's gauntlet. _"By the way, Mr. Grey... With the combat data I gathered from the 108 and your squad, I've come up with a few potential upgrades. Plug me in at the Durendal's materials lab as soon as convenient."_

"What sort of upgrades?" asked Grey.

_"Mostly for mobility: Micro-thrusters, Van Der Waals strips on the gloves and soles, that sort of thing."_

"Can't you make those upgrades now? I could feel you shifting the suit around even as I fought."

_"There are limits to what I can do with just the suit to work with. A lab would be more suitable."_

Grey dismissed the hologram and nodded at Jensen. "Think you're up for one last objective?"

"I am, now. Let me guess: We're headed to Upper Dosadi?"

Grey gave a half-hearted shrug. "Maybe, I don't have the specifics yet, but both Ramsus and Bau are very keen on infiltrating the Granada hotel before the French marines start assaulting the island it's holding up. Their Colonel is on the fence, and he's too busy coordinating his batallion throughout Middle Dosadi to make up his mind right this minute. Ramsus is fuming, but Bau's being patient."

"I see. So I've got time for a quick meal, at least."

"Sure. I guess that Sentinel Health System makes you hungry, huh?"

"You should see him at the Warsaw Diner," said Garrus as he approached. He carried a wrapped Grease Ball Special in one hand, and a few strings of Geth Power cells in the other. "Hey partner, got you something a little more filling than a candy bar."

"Thanks." Adam unwrapped the burger as his visor retracted, and quickly ate the piece of flavoured protein. It wasn't made of real beef or real bread or even real grease, but when you're hungry, anything tasted good. He took a pair of Geth power units in his hand and squeezed, draining them into his suit's power cells. They went back up from 8 percent to a hundred.

"Wish my suit could do that..." said Garrus as he shook the two remaining cords playfully. Adam grabbed his hand, and lightning crackled. Garrus' own suit was back to 90 percent. "Ooh, nice!"

"That's an interesting feature," said Grey.

"So, how'd you get scratched up, Jensen?"

Burroughs appeared on everyone's visor. "He got those punching a Zhuk," she said, amused.

"...Shit. Are you serious?"

Adam nodded.

"What's a Zhuk?" asked Garrus. When Grey explained, Garrus was quite impressed, then worried. "Geez, Jensen. You could have called for backup."

"I had backup," Jensen defended. "Four Wanzers' worth in fact."

"But none of them are worth Garrus Vakarian," he laughed. "Say, I saw that little blonde pilot you came with. She was giving you that look—"

"— Yeah, about that," interrupted Grey. "Does she know you're not an actual robot? Because she was a bit coy earlier and—"

Adam heard something from the janitor's closet, and quickly changed the subject. "Somebody in there?"

"Yeah. Urdnot Wrex," replied Garrus.

"Really? What's he doing in there?"

"Tried to strangle Bau," replied Grey. "Couldn't make sense of half of his blabbering but apparently it had something to do about the Genophage. Bau filled him with Neural Shock darts and we chained him up in there."

"He's only going to get madder." Garrus shook his head. "Krogan don't like being tied up in small spaces."

"He didn't give me much choice." Grey turned to Jensen. "Look, you want to take care of this? Talking down Krogan isn't my thing."

Adam nodded. "Can't hurt."

"Good, that'll be one less problem to worry about. Ryan!"

"Sir?" replied the large marine. He was at the Burger Town's Omni-Bench, meant for the the restaurant's machinery. He was working on Bren's gatling gun, making sure it was still serviceable.

"You done reloading that thing?"

"Yep. I made imitation rounds using Omni-Gel. It's not Omar hand-loads, but it'll do the trick."

"Good, bring that thing over."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Wake up, sunshine."<p>

Urdnot Wrex was kicked awake, and now he was mad. Really mad. His head was killing him. He was tied up. He was stuck inside a broom closet. He was tied up with strips of hardened Omni-Gel. Primal Instincts started to take over. He sat up. Soom the strips would bend and snap to his berserker strength and...

Bren's Gatling revved up, and there was the whine of energy weapons being powered up. Had he been a younger, dumber man, Wrex would have tried something stupid. He was old, and above average intelligence (by his estimation), and knew how to keep his rage cold, even if he still had Neural Shock darts still stuck in his face.

"Have you calmed down..." said Grey, a menacing edge to his voice, "or are we going to have to put you down like a mad dog?"

"...I'm as calm as calm can be, considering the circumstances," grumbled Wrex. "What do you want from me?"

"Your assistance. You saved our lives back there, and that makes you useful."

Wrex spat. "So that's all I'm good for, huh? A meat shield?"

"If it's about money..."

"Maybe I don't care about money anymore. Maybe I don't care if Saren wants to lay waste to an entire race of Pyjaks like you. Why should I? MY kind has been sentenced to a slow DEATH after a millenium of pain and despair, and the rest of the galaxy doesn't give two shits. You have nothing that I want. Kill me or begone. I'm done talking to you."

**"We have Urdnot Bakara****,****" **said the human in dark armour.

Wrex shot up, and his restraints tightened. "...What?! How do you know that—" Wrex paused, then broke into laughter. "Ha, there's a million ways you could know that. Forget it. I won't let you rile me up."

"Her crest is red like yours, but curved and spiraling instead of pointed. Her skin is pale, and her eyes are violet."

Wrex's eyes narrowed."You touch her and you die."

**"She is a guest aboard our ship. She has been trying to figure out a cure for the Genophage. If the Geth win here, then our ship will be destroyed and whatever she knows will perish with her. Help us, and you'll get to see her again."**

"..._If_ I survive."

**"That part's up to you."**

Wrex growled, then laughed. "Heh... I heard you humans weren't afraid to be complete bastards." He huffed. "Fine. You got a deal."

The dark soldier looked at Grey, who seemed to be unconvinced. "And the Salarian?"

"...Keep him away from me. I can't promise I won't twist his head off when he's not looking."

"...Fair enough," Grey nodded at Ryan, who promptly sent a sonic pulse through the straps to break them.

Wrex felt his wrists and biceps, massaging the strain away. "I'll need a weapon."

"Not yet. I have to speak to Gadolt about you. Don't want you to get shot on sight."

"Fine, just be quick about it. Oh, and tell the Salarian... this isn't over. He'll have to give me an answer sooner or later."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kull was dead. Renk was dead. His two finest men, dead.<p>

Wreav wanted to personally break the human woman in two. Every second she breathed she defied everything that Wreav understood. Women cannot be Warriors. They could pretend all they want, but they must die for that affront in the end.

And the Dark Warrior! Such power! Wreav hadn't felt the true thrill of battle since Saren changed him. Were it not for that damned shield and that damned armored tower then he would have secured the objective already and went off to challenge him personally. Honor demanded it!

In fact, he was just about to leave when he received the call from Saren. _"Wreav."_

"Saren! The sh... the whatever you call it is within our grasp. and thousands upon thousands of humans are dead!" Wreav emphasized the last part. "The Geth have set up a drilling laser and—"

_"Retreat."_

"...What?!"

_"You heard me. You must retreat. You took too long. The mission is a FAILURE."_

"...No. NO. NO! Victory is within our grasp! No, we have already won! Only the prize remains! Do not tell me to leave just as we are about to—"

The doors to the Tower opened.

_"Wreav, listen to me... Scholar has unleashed the Shibboleth fragment. It's too late."_

_London bridge is falling down_

_Falling down_

_Falling down..._

"My... My children... I can hear my children, Saren..."

_"Wreav, are you there?"_

"My fair lady... My wife, my sweet wife... I'm coming."

_"Wreav?! WREAV! ANSWER ME!"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"It's too late," said Saren, sinking into the back of his chair.<p>

"Get your machines out of there," said 01. "We'll find some other way for Scholar to pay for betraying us. 02, we will discuss the loyalty of your agents later."

"Theodore and—"

"Quiet!" interrupted 03. "This session is over!"

The fact that there would be bickering within the Triumvirate brought a brief smile to Saren's face, but it would not be enough to make up for this mess.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Krogan Warriors stepped in, calmly, lured by the ghosts of their deepest desires. In the hotel's atrium, waiting for them, was Theodore.<p>

"Gentlemen..." he said, his arms crossed over his chest, hands over his shoulders, metal rods between his fingers... "Rejoice! For the Goddess is hungry, and she desires..."

The tubes opened and extended. Nanites laced with Phantom Dust hovered around him. And God's Angels began the celebration.

The Seraphim held them down.

The Putto began to chew.

**"...the greatest of Feasts!"**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Colonel Nicholas Gadolt was born in Gibraltar some 40 years ago to a Welsh mother and Indian father. He was a 'lifer' who had signed on to defend Europe from the looming threat of the Coalition. He wasn't exactly pleased about being so far away from home, fighting a bunch of alien robots. The Coalition 'Georgie' Mech, in his opinion, was a far more dangerous robotic foot-soldier. Still, orders were orders, and preventing the civilians of Dosadi from being slaughtered was the right thing to do.<p>

Even if it was a soulless Corporate world.

Would anyone here appreciate his men's sacrifices? Would anyone here appreciate his strategies, should they bring victory over the Geth? Or would the WTO show their gratitude by suing him and the European Military? He suppressed those questions.

_They don't matter now._

A Valiant semi-automatic sniper rifle was slung on his back, over his standard officer's combat gear. He believed that while a commander may not be able to lead from the front, that didn't mean he couldn't assist his men in a pinch.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the situation," he said, as he presided over the holographic table. Gathered around it was an eclectic group. Along with the four Majors that would take part in what he hoped would be the final assault, there were representatives from the Alliance with Captain Anderson and Johann Ramsus, standing next to US Marines under the command of DARPA. Next to them were the Silver Drakes, standing right next to a Council Spectre.

The DARPA Marines would not give him too much trouble, and neither would the Alliance. The Spectre, on the other hand, might be a problem. Then again, nobody was in their proper jurisdiction save the SSC, but nobody cared to listen to those incompetents. Gadolt was in charge by virtue of the fact that he had 2400 trained soldiers at his back.

"Middle Dosadi is being secured as we speak." He manipulated the hologram of the city. Sectors that were colored red slowly became blue. "With the help of the SSC we've managed to secure territories and rescue over one hundred thousand survivors so far. We've been told that most of Middle Dosadi's population moved to Upper Dosadi, where they are protected by the shield. However..."

Red triangles representing enemy ships were headed towards the Granada island, a suspended city more than one kilometers in diameter. "...part of our success is due to the fact that the Geth have been making a slow withdrawal to this place. Recon suggests that they've built fortifications. The prisoner the Silver Drakes have captured corroborates this."

Hovering above the city map was a hologram of a Geth AA turret. "And he claims that they've set these up all over the city's perimeter, above and below. This effectively means that anything flying near the thing is as good as dead." He nodded to Anderson. "As per Captain's Anderson's hunch, I've ordered all Companies to be on the lookout for weapons of mass destruction. True enough, the Geth have been setting up fusion charges all over the arcology."

The hologram of a Geth bomb appeared next to the AA gun. "The good news is that we managed to disable most of them, enough to prevent the complete destruction of Dosadi. The bad news is that it is clear that Wreav and the Geth have no intention of occupying the city. Once they find what they're looking for they'll make another attempt at razing it to the ground and leave."

A long, high-tech looking spire appeared next to the arcology's hologram. "Bravo Company reports that they've retaken the planetary ansible. From what you DARPA boys tell me, the Geth would have used it to 'mentally retreat' from the battle. If they have any sense of self-preservation, the Geth will have to rely on their ships to get themselves out of here and won't detonate anything if their backs are against the wall. Which brings me to our main problem."

Gadolt looked around, making sure that everyone was paying attention. "Geth forces fortifying Granada are estimated at 12000. Krogan forces are estimated at 7500. The place is covered by 2 destroyers, 6 frigates, and 14 corvettes. Our _Rafale_s and _Ouragan_s are more than a match for those, but with the island's AA guns covering them, my only option right now..."

A holographic representation of twelve Light-Medium high-mobility Wanzers appeared on the map, wielding huge bullpup Gauss Bazookas. Spare clips were stuck on their thighs.

"...is to order Ortega and his Wanzer squad to begin making artillery strikes to punch a hole in their defenses. I would prefer not to bombard the place. Too many civilians may be in there. Trying to storm the place would lead to unacceptable casualties. Ladies, Gentlemen, I need an idea."

"A small team could sneak in and plant demo charges on the AA guns and shield emitters," said Bau.

"I thought about it," replied Gadolt, shaking his head. "With the MagRoads to Granada destroyed the only possible method of insertion is through the air, and that's not an option."

"The Normandy is a stealth vessel," countered Bau, looking at Anderson.

"It can't turn invisible," said Anderson.

"Not what I heard," said Grey pointedly.

"It doesn't matter," said Gadolt. "The Normandy is tied up in high orbit providing support to the Acheron."

"Then how about a Trojan Horse?" suggested Ramsus. His voice... it commanded everyone to pay attention to him. "We have a mostly intact Geth vessel right over there."

Gadolt nodded. "Assuming you can get it flying of course. My techs can't make heads or tails of it."

Elsa raised her hand. "The Krogan we caught has experience working with Geth technology. Maybe he could have a look?"

"Assuming we can trust him."

"We can keep an eye on him."

"Alright then, that's one possibility. Any other ideas?"

"We could send in the 108," suggested Grey. "It's equipped with a cloaking system."

"The 108? You mean that black robot of yours?" asked Gadolt. "And how do you propose to get him there without a stealth-capable ship? Throw him there?"

"Maybe. Or maybe we could find one of those Manticore Gliders. The 108 can take control of it."

"I doubt one mech could disable enough AA guns and shield emitters to make a difference."

"Permission to speak, _Oberst?" _said Zoller. "I personally saw the 108 deliver an uppercut to a refurbished Zhuk. It wore itself out but it gave us a golden opportunity to kill most of its crew."

"...You _must_ be joking."

"I do not make jokes of that kind. I saw what I saw, and my Wanzer's black box will confirm it."

"And before that," added Elsa, "it managed to acquire quite a kill count of Geth and Krogan, so I can vouch for his... its performance. Sorry."

"I don't trust robots," said Taggart, tersely. "They're not worth one good soldier, in my opinion, in a covert op. I say we go with Ramsus' plan."

"And who will take on this suicide mission, then?" asked Gadolt. Mustering volunteers was always a problem.

"I volunteer the Deep Eyes and the 108," said Grey.

"I volunteer my Marines," said Anderson.

"I volunteer myself," said Bau.

"Likewise," said Ramsus. "Oh, and my dog."

Gadolt didn't mind the whole lot of them going off on a suicide mission. If they succeeded, then casualties could be kept to a minimum. If they failed, then he wouldn't have sent some of his own men to their deaths.

"Very well. You lot have 30 minutes to make this plan work. If you can't then I'll order Ortega to start with the artillery strike. Dismissed."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Khel Charr was one of the few strange Krogan mutants that didn't find happiness in combat. Growing up, he had preferred to use his hands to fix, modify, and even make machines. Granted, most of these machines were made for killing (Tuchanka had little use for combine harvesters and the like), but their bits were technological all the same, and in need of both dexterity and intelligence to maintain.<p>

His grandfather (May Vaul watch over him in the Void) was the one that had convinced him to find his happiness in the stars. In his words: "geeks like you are in for a world of hurt here unless you can make a bigger, better gun, and even then..."

Charr booked a ticket out of Tuchanka — out of the DMZ — and had not looked back for over a century. After a long pilgrimage, he had settled down in Illium, where all sorts of frontier tech came that way, and a lot of it was in need of repairs. A decade ago, after a stint aboard a freighter, Charr had discovered a love for robotics: Humans had brought a breath of fresh air with their concepts, and he had quickly learned his way around a Wanzer. He had also met Ereba, his girlfriend, his Blue Rose, at one of the Arenas. He had hoped to settle down with her, but needed steady work or at least one hell of a paycheck.

Then, just a month ago, Clan Chief Renk had been mustering a force, and he had sought out Charr to maintain his latest trophy. One look at the pay and the work (A freakin' Zhuk!) and Charr had signed on. He had thought he was just going to accompany Renk on a raid. Instead he had wound up help the new Warlord commit genocide with help from killer robots.

And now he was helping said humans get a Geth drop ship in the air. He hoped this would somehow earn him some leniency.

"There's two funny things about the Geth," he said, his hands deep in the ship's insides. "One: they're obsessed with managing every single component of their ships, even the shit that don't need it. The helm has got a processing core—"

"Which makes perfect sense, really," said the Terran pilot. Highwind was his name, as Charr recalled. Besides him were a handful of technicians, and the Dark Warrior, who was watching Charr like a hawk.

"I wasn't finished! There's a sub-processor on a safety valve, on a fuel manifold, even the coolant pump. Everything's connected to the LAN. Hell, even the thruster nozzles have a RAM chip on it. It's like they hate automation, or something. The second thing about Geth ships? They like to complicate things. It's almost as if they try too hard to be creative. Half of this stuff doesn't really DO anything, or at least nothing particularly useful. Here, let me show you. All I have to do is unplug this and bypass this, and..."

Charr connected something to an alien component, and the lights inside the Dropship began to flicker back on. The whine of engines rose, then sputtered and died.

With Charr's directions in mind, the human techs spread out and re-examined the problems they had been trying to solve.

"Well, seeing as the Geth 'jumped ship'," said Highwind, "that doesn't bode well for the helm, does it?"

"Well, let's have a look!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Yep! You're boned!" said the Krogan cheerfully as he tried to conjure the haptics on the Geth brain's maintenance console. The 'helm' or 'cockpit' was little else than a tiny room for a bipedal Geth platform to swap out broken parts. "The hard drive's been formatted, and without an avionics package you can't fly this thing."<p>

When Charr realized that this wouldn't exactly endear him to his captors, he let his shoulders drop a bit.

He cracked open the shell, and fished out some wires. "Well, we might be able to plug a flight computer into this and—"

The Dark Warrior suddenly grabbed one of the cables and plugged itself into the Geth brain. A moment later, and the haptics surged to life in sweeping Quarian Khelish, then flickered into a squarish Terran font — all lines perpendicular to the other. The holographic shapes became green and gold, and reconfigured itself into something appropriate for a pilot. Dozens of vid-windows appeared, connected to the Dropship's cameras. Most of them were static.

Highwind whistled. "Yeah, I think I can fly this no problem. Thanks, Shadow."

The Dark Warrior didn't so much as nod.

"Oi! Kroc!" called one of the techs from the rear of the ship. "We need you in the core room!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Well, the Eezo core is fucked," said Charr after examining the inside of the silvery sphere. "Shattered into four bits. Don't suppose you've got a spare one laying around? Ah, never mind, it wouldn't do any good. The electrolaser matrix is fried. Can't make a Mass Effect field out of this for all the Eezo on Thessia."<p>

"So that's that, then," said the Terran in the green and gold suit. "I'll ask Gadolt to have us link up with one of his companies, then."

"Come now," said the Terran in the bone white suit caked in blood. His voice was almost as deep and rumbling as a Krogan's, but yet as pleasant as an Asari singer's. "We have much better than a drive core."

The gold man folded his arms. "Oh really? And that would be?"

"Why, me, of course."

The techs laughed, and the Terran in the white armor did something weird: he cut his tongue, and let the blood wash over his the inside of his mouth. He shivered with delight, dark energy coursing through his arms as he spread them wide.

A field surged out of the man, and then bathed the entire room with a red glow. Then, the glow spread throughout the hull.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside Gadolt and his subordinates watched as the Geth vessel became lighter than air and floated in place for a few seconds before gently lowering itself back on the floor.<p>

"Ortega," said the Colonel. "Looks like we're going with the Trojan Horse plan after all. Stand by."

Grey approached Gadolt later, saying that the ship was mostly flight-worthy but that it would likely be a one-way trip. Gadolt took a second look at the ship's schematic given to him by the techs. The 26-meter long ship had quite a spacious cargo hold, large enough to store close to a hundred Geth in a fetal position, or four of the Geth Wanzer imitations.

Plenty of space for a single, real one.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You're going with them," said Gadolt to Elsa. "I would... feel better if one of our own assisted in the mission. Besides, they may need some heavy cavalry."<p>

"Just me?" she asked.

Gadolt nodded, and Taggart was furious. "Over me dead body she's going alone! This is a suicide mission, god damn you!"

"She won't be alone. Between the Spectre, the DARPA and Alliance Marines, she won't be lacking in support. And then there's that 108 I've heard so much about."

"I'll do it," said Elsa.

"I wasn't giving you a choice," said Gadolt, reminding the Navy team who was in charge on the ground. "You're going to have to remove your Zenith's backpack and its shield, as well. The dimensions of the Geth cargo section won't allow for your current loadout."

"Are ye trying to get her killed you bloody leather-necked bastard?!"

"Of course not," Gadolt lied. He wasn't actively trying to get her killed, of course, but the truth of the matter was that he loathed the woman who had been granted much undeserved praise for what Gadolt considered a 'fairly average performance'. But, she was the Navy's pet, and her insubordinate, American cowboy behavior had been forgiven one time too many.

_You got Hayha killed. _Gadolt had wanted to spit those words at her face. He was the one Navy pilot he actually respected. Besides himself, the Colonel thought that Hayha should have been chosen as Spectre candidate. If Elsa survived and the mission succeeded, so much the better for everyone, but he would not be unhappy to see her gone.

But Gadolt always kept his cool, even as bitterness and jealousy boiled inside him. "You have your orders, _sailor."_

When she was dismissed, Elsa ordered Hermes to switch out her shield with Zoller's pile bunker, and had a Carryall lift her Wanzer up.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Bau watched as the Zenith crouch-walked inside the bay, wondering why the colonel had only spared one Wanzer for this mission. After all, there was enough space to store at least one more. He assumed politics were at work here, and thought better than to challenge Gadolt's decision. There was simply no time, and he had learned that humans reacted poorly when aliens made demands.<p>

He was a bit bothered by the sight of Urdnot Wrex being freed from his shackles and being handed Tymestl's large weapon.

"'Support Gunner' is not on my resumé," said Wrex. "Figured you would prefer me at the front."

"Front-line duty's my thing," said Whitaker as he helped mount the ammo drum on Wrex's back. "Actually, it's more likely you're going to blend in with your fellows."

"And what's gonna stop me from ratting you out?"

"Right, because you Krogan are just one big happy family?"

"...Heh, nah, I want to see those idiots dead as much as anyone else in this camp."

Urdnot took his place inside the Dropship, and gave Bau a dirty look. "Bau."

"Urdnot." Unconsciously, Bau rubbed his throat. He was getting a bit tired of being strangled. It seemed someone had spread the idea that was somehow the ideal way of killing a Salarian. It was anything but, unless the spine was snapped.

"You and I are going to have words after this is over."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Anderson's sadness at losing three men had been tempered by the relief that the two men he had left behind at Freeport at Lawson's behest were indeed alive.<p>

"Sergeant Vega, reporting for duty, sir!"

"Corporal Jenkins, reporting for duty, SIR!"

Both Marines saluted, and Anderson saluted right back. "At ease. Ready to take the fight to the machines, gentlemen?"

"Hell yeah," said Vega.

"Where are we headed, sir?" asked Jenkins.

Anderson gave them a quick summary, the same he had given Taylor and Williams: Get behind enemy lines, take out as many Geth AA guns as possible, hold the line until extraction.

"And we'll be working with the Deep Eyes," said Vega.

"Got a problem with that, Sergeant?"

"What? Oh, no! I actually like working with these guys! We killed over a hundred Geth before you guys arrived. That Captain Grey's kind of a micro-manager, though..." He imitated Grey's gruff voice. "Vega! Take out that dropship! Vega! Watch your ammo! Vega! Watch your six!"

"Kept us focused, though," commented Jenkins.

"Yeah, that it did."

Jenkins' expression suddenly became a bit odd, focusing on something behind Anderson. The captain followed the young man's gaze to the kneeling Zenith's cockpit. Devereaux had opened it up to get as much fresh air as she could. She was in the process of removing her helmet and shaking her hair out. Anderson looked back at Jenkins and smiled. No doubt the young man was seeing her in slow motion.

Jenkins caught himself. "Oh, err, sorry, sir. Did you say something?"

"Her callsign's Angel," said Anderson.

"Yeah..." said Jenkins wistfully, a glazed look coming over his face. "She looks like one..."

Vega took a glance at her and waved his hand dismissively. "Ah, she's kinda petite, and she's French, so you know she's high maintenance, like her machine... which is the real beauty. Damn!"

Anderson patted Jenkins on the shoulder. "Try and chat with her, Corporal, that's an order."

Jenkins' eyes widened, and he hesitated a moment, before he gave a brisk salute and overly loud "Sir, yes SIR!" and went to try and talk to the woman that would be Spectre.

"Heh, I get the feeling she's going to chew him up and spit him out."

"Or maybe he'll find some romance. Who knows? Now, as for you..."

"Ah, sir, I appreciate you playing matchmaker but—"

"It's about your flight experience. How did you score on Basic Flight?"

"About 84 percent. Why?"

_Higher than either Williams or Taylor,_ Anderson noted. _Boy could have been a fighter pilot._ "Good, I need someone on the Dropship's helm, and it looks like you're it."

"Ah, sir, don't the Deep Eyes have a pilot on that already?"

Anderson winced. "About that..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"AGAIN?!" shouted Neil. "You expect me to sit this one out?!"<p>

"SERGEANT!" barked Grey. "I forgave one act of insubordination today in the middle of a goddamned firefight. I won't have another in front of the French!"

"There's nothing to forgive! I made the right call getting the reinforcements to you—"

"I am THIS close to having your ass sent back home for a court-martial! Shut up, get back to the Copperhead, and be ready to extract us when I make the call!"

Neil was about to argue again, but Jane tapped his shoulder, getting his attention. She shook her head, and he kept quiet.

"You're dismissed, pilot!" Grey ordered, and with a bitter, halfhearted salute, Neil left for the Copperhead.

"I swear," Grey continued under his breath, "Hein killed our discipline. I'll have to fix that."

Garrus, who was watching, had something to say. "Don't you think you're being a little hard on him?"

"No," replied Grey, annoyed. "He was being insubordinate."

"He practically _saved_ you!"

"He left Devereaux — the only competent Wanzer Pilot with the only Mil-spec Wanzer in the entire Arcology at the time — to DIE. That was NOT a good call, and it wasn't his to make!" He was about to launch into a tirade about the chain of command, but caught himself. This wasn't the time. "I don't have to argue this — check your gear, we take off in five!"

When it was just the two of them, Garrus spoke to Jane. "You know, for a guy with a dislike for Turians, he sure reminds me of my superiors in the military. They really, really didn't like soldiers with initiative."

Jane sighed. "Grey's a born soldier. The rest of us, not so much. Sure, we came out of Basic ready to say 'how high', but after Mars.. Akuze... Venezuela... The three of us just aren't soldiers anymore. Lovers, fighters, killers, I don't know... But definitely not soldiers."

"And he can't wrap his head around that?"

"He's trying, I think. The conditioning won't let him."

"It's not the conditioning," said Ramsus. Both Jane and Garrus nearly jumped out of their skins out of surprise. The rogue AIA assassin had snuck up on them without making a sound. "He wants things as they were before. I understand that desire all too well. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ship to power."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>[Kenji Kawai - Blockage]<strong>

Clearance was given, and the nearly destroyed Geth Dropship awkwardly fired its jets. Vega had to take a scenic route to appear like a stray. After 5 minutes, he began the approach towards the suspended island. He switched off the IFF, and more than a few European fighters took potshots at them before Gadolt ordered them to cease fire. All part of the plan.

Anderson, Bau and Grey stood besides Vega, watching the video feed on the haptics. Vega checked his altitude: 5 kilometres away from the ground. More than enough to get a bird's eye view of the suspended city. It was night time, now, and all the lights in the floating city had been switched off. The Geth, ever wary of Terran stealth technology thanks to the Normandy's hit and runs, had set up a few searchlights. Some of the buildings had been bombed, a few fires were still burning here and there.

Bau had one of the cameras look up. There were a few black craters riddled with embers on the ceiling. _The labs, _Bau realized. _It seems as EG had done some cleaning up to deny the Geth physical samples of their technology._

What was left of the Geth Fleet ground-side was hovering around the main shaft that connected to Upper Dosadi. The corvettes were on patrol.

One of them came their way.

"Evasive manoeuvres?" murmured Vega, nervously.

"No. Steady as she goes," said the Alliance Captain.

The corvette came closer. Its optic gazed upon them as it shone a light on the ruined hull. Vega's hand unconsciously hovered above the gun controls...

"Okay, everyone..." said Vega, "Don't look out the windows. Or the holes..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hide!" murmured Jane as the darkness in the cabin was pierced with shafts of white blue light, as Vega and Ryan had managed to punch quite a few holes in it when the dropship was in the control of the enemy. There were no seats, so everyone had to stand, holding on to hastily made straps to keep them from falling over.<p>

Ashley took cover from the light, her back against the hull, a Mantis sniper rifle ready to fire just in case they came under fire. She wasn't sure she could do much against a corvette. Maybe shoot out one of its eyes out?

"Careful..." muttered Jacob, pointing at the sharpened bits of warped metal that surrounded the hole.

The Geth searchlight eventually cast its light on the Wanzer, wisely covered in a plastic sheet. Williams gasped. How good were the Geth's cameras? Did they have X-ray vision? Were they scanning them right now? Don't the Geth have IFF of their own? These questions racing through her head made her realize how crazy this plan was.

The lights turned off, and the corvette sped off. Everyone let out a sigh of relief.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"We're past the red line," said Grey. "If they made us, then they don't care about us."<p>

Vega's relief came to a screeching halt when red alarms appeared all over his console. "Shit! Weapons are going live all around us!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>She heard explosions, and her heart skipped a beat. The Geth had made them, and had begun firing their AA guns.<p>

Another explosion. And then another... and Williams had yet to see St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"What the hell is going on?" She said.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Geth frigates were bombing the streets.<p>

"Oh my god, the civilians..." muttered Grey.

"No..." said Bau. "Vega, zoom in!"

The vidscreen for the bottom camera came to the forefront. At street level, it was pure chaos. The Krogan had gone completely berserk, and were destroying Geth platforms. Dropships moved in covered by fire support from the frigates and corvettes, picking up as many of the machines as possible before taking off, leaving Troopers behind to hold the line.

Bau zoomed in on the frigates and corvettes. Their lights were flickering, and their gun turrets were acting a bit erratically. He wondered if the ships were overloaded with Geth programs. An act of desperation?

Anderson picked up a receiver from a small, heavy-duty suitcase. "Gadolt? We've got a situation here... no, technically we haven't failed but... The Krogan have turned against the Geth... Yes, they're retreating! We'll land and reconnoiter the area, but I suspect the Geth AA guns have ceased to function... Alright, understood." He put the receiver back in the case full of electronics. "He says they'll send a clean-up crew as soon as the _Ouragans _take out the fleeing Geth ships."

"So uh, we won?" asked Vega. "That's anticlimactic..."

"No," said Bau. "This may not be over yet. Wreav may yet be out there and what he knows about Saren's operations may well help us put a stop to them." _And then there is Europa Genomics_, he thought. _They are connected to the Bioroids, which we initially believed to be Geth technology. This connects them to the murder of Shepard, and Wreav, who is working for Saren, was obviously trying to raid Upper Dosadi for something. Something very significant._

_Something I MUST see._

"Take us to the parking ring. It should be in the middle of the—"

"Nope, it's not there anymore," said Vega, zooming a camera on the wrecked structure.

"Xu!" Bau swore. "Then take us to the entrance of the Granada Hotel. Wreav should still be around there."

Vega looked to Anderson for confirmation, and the captain nodded. "Okay, then," said Vega. "I'm taking us to a nearby rooftop, close to the Granada's plaza. Out of the way so that we don't immediately get swarmed by Krogan Berserkers."

"Good thinking, Vega." Anderson patted the Marine on the back.

"Err, don't thank me just yet, sir. I... err, well, my landings tend to be a bit rough."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Krogan and the Kua Fu came out first, making sure that the area was secure. When they gave the all clear, the Zenith came out next, discarding its sheet like a cape. The rest stepped out into the rain, just as the lights of the Dropship flickered and died. It was on its last legs, and without Ramsus powering it, it wouldn't have flown anyways.<p>

The drops were big, and heavy, but sparse.

"Err, guys?" said Jenkins. "Last I checked we had a ceiling? Where's the rain coming from?"

"Oh god!" cursed Williams as she closed her helmet completely and switched on her filters. "That was... it smells like piss and vinegar and rotten eggs and—"

"Blood," said Ramsus. "My favourite."

Wrex gave Ramsus a strange look, hidden by his helmet. The lanky human was just about to open his, no doubt to have a drink. "Yeah, don't get any ideas," said Wrex. "Stuff's probably toxic."

"Hm... I suppose you're right. Besides, I'm not a fan of the color."

Grey knelt to get a closer look at a nearby puddle. "It's clear and kinda beige. Definitely not blood and definitely not rainwater... Burroughs?" Grey's Gauntlet came online, and the ghostly form of Burroughs, a floating woman clad in an ethereal dress, appeared over the back of his hand as the palm sensor came on.

_"Scanning... I'm detecting exotic proteins, carbohydrates, lipids, phospholipids, and urea. Yep, it's __a__mniotic__ f__luid."_

It took a moment for Brea to react. "...Ew! Just... ew!"

"...Yeah, right there with ya," said Jane.

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait! We're covered in... in... PEOPLE JUICE?!" Vega nearly shouted.

"What's the big deal?" asked Garrus, curious at the horrified looks around him.

**"Amniotic fluid is the liquid that fills the amniotic sac of a human female during pregnancy. It nourishes the embryo as it grows," **said Shadow.

_"What he said," _Burroughs added. _"Although I am certain this was not produced by human plasma. I lack, however, the necessary knowledge to interpret these scans any further."_

Garrus gave Shadow a look, then Brea, then Jane. "The more I find out about the your reproductive system, the less I want to know. You humans are gross!"

"Do shut up," snapped Williams quietly.

"Could we not talk about this?" growled Wrex.

"I am curious..." said Bau as his helmet unfolded and sealed itself around his head. He was looking up. "What is up there that would require so much organic fluid?"

"Upper Dosadi must be filled with the stuff," muttered Anderson as he put on a spare European Marine helmet and sealed it over his collar. "...What the hell is Europa Genomics up to?"

"Burroughs?" asked Brea. "Send me your scan data. I might make more sense of it."

_"As you wish."_

A quick burst of data, and Burroughs vanished. Grey rose. "Well, freaky shit notwithstanding, this changes nothing. Let's find Wreav. Use less than lethal methods against him to bring him down."

"Less than lethal, sir?" asked Ryan. "He's nearly three meters tall and he's probably enraged like the rest of his men. I don't think—"

Grey interrupted him by switching his Serpent Carbine on. "I know. By less than lethal, I mean 'Full-Auto.'"

Everyone got Captain Grey's drift. "Let's make our way to the ground level through the building."

"I'll go secure the street," said Devereaux, as she leapt off the roof.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Mass Effect: Human Revolution:<p>

_**The Dream Machine — FINALE**_

_**~[h+]~**_

_Leto Valerius is voiced by Kevin McKidd_

_Hashmal Lephantis is voiced by Richard Ridings_

_Annah is voiced by Adelaide Clemens_

__**~[h+]~**__

* * *

><p>With the power to the elevators out, they had gone down the stairs of the building. The din of warcries, gunshots and bombs, muffled by the walls, grew more and more distant. The emergency lights in the stairwell were dim, and flickering, and the team had to use their flashlights for illumination."I hear something..." said Williams, as she approached the door to the ninth floor.<p>

"What is it?" asked Jacob.

"I think it's a survivor!"

"Shh!" hushed Anderson.

"Quiet!" He strained his ears, and heard slightly deranged grunts.

"Could be hostile.""Permission to investigate?" asked Williams.

"Granted, but be quiet." He signaled Taylor and Williams to stack up on the door, and then to enter and clear the immediate area.

"Clear," reported Williams.

"Clear," reported Taylor.

The floor was an office space. Judging by the posters, this was supposed to be some kind of travel agency. The place had been shot up, bad. Corpses were strewn about, riddled with holes.

Brea knelt besides one of the bodies: It belonged to a man young enough to have been an intern.

"What is it?" asked Jane."Someone cut the Chip out of his skull post-mortem."

"Only the chipless are free..." someone muttered in the dark. The team looked around to see who it belonged to. Jenkins saw someone scurry away.

"That way!" he shouted as he ran after the unknown figure.

The deeper they got into the building, the more horrid things got. Someone had turned this place into a charnel house: Bodies were hung on makeshift hooks, ritually sliced apart. Everyone gave Wrex a glare."Hey, Krogan don't do that shit! I mean, leaving a bunch of good meat to spoil like that — it's a fucking waste!"

"Poor bastards must've suffered a great deal," said Ryan. "May God have mercy on their souls."

"Amen," agreed Williams.

"They didn't suffer," said Brea, too coldly and medically "Again, these cuts were inflicted post-mortem." Her tone was even and cold, but Shadow got the feeling that she was trying to reassure them in her own way.

_"I suppose you're going to blame me for this, too?"_ Ramsus discreetly asked Shadow through the Codec.

_"From what I've read, THIS is your style,"_ countered Shadow sub-vocally.

_"Well, I like to think I have a better sense of composition... Still, if being stuck in Peak 15 and fighting alongside the Deep Eyes isn't good enough of an alibi..."_

_"No, it is. So the question remains... who did this?"_ Ramsus said nothing, as he heard a familiar song:

"London bridge is falling down... falling down..."

As the team fanned out to find the singer, Jacob came across a piece of graffiti written in dried blood. "Guys? Anyone translate this? It's written in some funky lettering."

"I can," said Wrex. "It's... Old Uruk from Tuchanka. I'm a little rusty, but it goes like this:"

Speak not the Phantoms  
>Draw not the Phantoms<br>Write not the Phantoms  
>Sculpt not the Phantoms<br>Sing not the Phantoms  
>Call not the Phantoms name.<p>

Shadow had heard this before, but from Manah.

Brea gave him a quick look, and Shadow knew she was processing the implications as much as he was.

"Hey! I found someone!" Jane shouted.

In a dark corner sat a salaryman in his mid forties. He briefly hissed when his sanctuary was burned away by flashlights, but he resumed his rocking back and forth shortly after, cradling a letter opener. His suit was long gone and his shirt was in tatters. At his feet were a bunch of hexagonal chips, freshly extracted from the skulls of his dead hands were covered in blood.

"I think we found the perpetrator of this... butchery," said Ramsus as he knelt close to the man.

"Careful," warned Garrus.

"Fear not, he's not going to hurt me." Ramsus picked up one of the chips and examined it. There was a logo printed in gold on it. "Krypto," he said aloud, before tossing it to Brea.

"It's shorted out," she said, before pocketing it.

"Only the chipless are free... Only the chipless are free..." the man continued his mantra.

"...Free from what?" asked Grey. The man didn't respond.

"He's in shock," said Williams. "The poor man... The Krogan must have done a number on him."

"It's not the Krogan," said Ramsus. "Something else is at work, here..."

"Only the chipless are free..." the man repeated.

"From who?" asked Ramsus. The man stopped chanting, and looked at him square in the eye. "...From the Goddess." The side of his head bulged, and popped like a balloon. From the mess came a winged centipede made of red and orange light. Before anyone could react, Ramsus grabbed it biotically and squeezed it until it burst into a puddle of liquid that evaporated into thin air. Inside the hole in the salaryman's head was a shorted-out Krypto chip.

"Madre de Dios!" shouted Vega. "What the hell was that?!"

Shadow knew, but had to keep his mouth shut. Dosadi was a feeding and breeding ground for Reapers.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the group entered the wet streets, Elsa's voice came out of the Zenith. <em>"Are you alright? You all look like you saw a ghost."<em>

"We saw some freaky shit, alright," said Vega. "Why didn't we just rappel down, man?"

_"What did you see?"_

"Better you don't know," said Anderson.

"Is the street to the central tower clear?"

"Crystal, but I have not checked every building. There could be more hostiles waiting in ambush."

"You heard the lady," said Grey. "Standard cavalry support formation with the Zenith in the center. Move slow, and keep an eye out."

As they moved slowly, scanning their respective areas with their weapons, Garrus opened a channel to Brea and Jensen.

_"Okay, Adam? You feel that vibe at all?"_

_"Yes...Yes, I do."_

_"What vibe?"_ asked Brea.

_"Caleston..." _said Adam_. "You weren't there. Approaching the lair of the Black Queen felt a lot like this... Only this time we're not even at the threshold, like before."_

_"Which means whatever is in Upper Dosadi... is a hell of a lot more powerful,"_ said Garrus, grimly._ "Sounds like Ramsus was telling the truth."_

_"Yeah..."_

_"Something else on your mind, Jensen?"_ asked Brea.

_"Look, I didn't confide this in you because... well, I had a hard time processing it myself, and I thought you'd think I had gone crazy, but... Benezia, she wasn't some kind of super-husk. She was possessed by something called a Reaper."_

_"Excuse me?"_

...

_Behind the Spectre, a burning vortex the size of a sun,_

_a flow of anguished souls spiralling into a chitinous, pulsating heart the size of a moon._

_**And from that terrible machine came creatures forged from sorrow and madness and rage.**_

_This was Hell._

_..._

Adam shook the vision. _"It's what you saw escape from that man's head. They're... Ghosts. Entities from another layer of reality, and they're coming into our own."_

Adam could practically _hear_ Brea roll her eyes. _"Oh, come off it! There's no such things as possessions or ghosts and you know it!"_

_"Yeah, and up until a few hours ago there weren't any psychics,"_ quipped Garrus. Then, more firmly: _"I believe Adam."_

Brea scoffed. _"Oh, fine. Be superstitious idiots, both of you." _She cut herself off from the channel, unwilling to hear any more.

Adam sighed. _"This is why I haven't told the Deep Eyes, either."_

_"But they saw! Surely that's enough—"_

_"All they saw was __**something**__ corrupting a person, then a Wanzer. Hein warned me: they'll just try and come up with all sorts of other justifications for anything weird they see. Hallucinogens. Sub-sonic altered state inducers. Holograms. Nanomachines. They'll just try and twist and wrap it into something they can understand. Cavemen used gods and spirits. We use technology."_

_"So telling everyone to bug out and nuke Upper Dosadi from orbit is out, huh?"_

_"Probably. I'm thinking Ramsus wouldn't be keen on the idea, either."_

_"And us? Why aren't we walking away from this?"_

_"...I can't walk away from this. As far as I'm concerned, there's an Illuminati up there fucking with forces he has no real comprehension of and has violated basic sapient rights for god knows how long. If he's not going to answer to a court, then he certainly will answer to me."_

_"And that's why I follow you, Adam. And this time, I'm more than ready."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>They were half-way to the Hotel when Williams heard the cooing of babies from a dark alley on her right. "Sir? I hear something... it might be a lost child. Permission to investigate?"<p>

"Hoo boy..." said Vega. "No offense, Gunny, but—"

"Stow it, Sergeant!" said Anderson."Everyone, stop. Permission granted... but be careful. Could be anything."

"Jane?" said Grey, looking at the narrow alley. "Looks like a potential close quarters situation. Go with her."

"Yes sir." Jane switched to her pistol and grabbed her favourite knife, keeping its handle against the grip of the gun. A CQC trick. Williams switched to her shotgun, and kept her Omni-Blade on, ready to slice. Jane approved. "Good. You're learning."

The alley was not exactly filthy, but it was certainly dark. The shadows seemed to dance around the beams of their flashlights.

"Could we get some illumination, here?" said Williams.

Elsa obliged them by switching on her Wanzer's head-mounted light. It was better, but there were still plenty of shadows for someone to hide.

Williams thought she saw something scurry in one of them. "What was that?..."

"You see someone?"

"Err... I thought I did."

They came to a crossroad, where Elsa's light could not reach.

"Hey," said Jane. "I hear chewing, and cooing."

"Where?"

"Over there. To the left."

They shone their flashlights into the darkness, and revealed the half eaten corpse of a Krogan. His armour had been chewed through; his ravaged intestines were splayed on the floor.

"Oh, God..." muttered Williams. She looked at Jane, who didn't seem to express any sort of reaction. "You okay?"

"Sweetheart, I've been through Venezuela." She nodded at the corpse. "This... this is nothing." She wasn't being pretentious, or posturing. She was warning Williams: It gets easier.

Williams wasn't sure she wanted that part of her to die.

She was about to say something when she thought she saw something move in the corner of her eye. She shone a light on the spot, and briefly caught the sight of a chubby, tiny leg.

"Hello?"

No answer.

Anderson's voice came through a burst of static on the Codec. _"Williams? Have you found anyone?"_

"No, sir. It's a bust... Sorry for wasting everyone's time."

_"Don't beat yourself up,"_ said Jacob. _"We all want to save someone in this chaos. It's just not our lucky day."_

_"Come on back, Gunny."_

"Aye Aye..." she turned around and saw the eyeless pale man reach out for her.

_**~[h+]~**_

There were gunshots, and shouting, and just as everyone was about to pour into that alley, a flapping shadow flew overhead, a breathless screech echoing out from it. It disappeared into the rainy night as Williams and Proudfoot came out of the alley, running.

"Did you get it?" asked Jane.

"I think I clipped it!" breathed Williams, visibly shaken.

"Are either of you hurt?!" asked Ryan.

"We're fine!" snapped Jane. "Just... shit, that thing took us by surprise, that's for damned sure."

"What the hell did you just see in there?!" asked Anderson. "A giant bird?!"

"I don't know, sir! It looked... It was thin, tall, its skin was like moulded wax and it had eyes... eyes where eyes didn't belong! I think I shot it in the belly!"

"There's something on your shoulder," said Ramsus, pointing.

"What?" Williams grabbed something stuck on her shoulder and examined it.

It was a feather, coloured in a majestic shade of red that contrasted with the blue gloom of the area. Then it became white, and then it turned into a small pile of dust that mixed with the wet ground.

Grey scanned it with his gauntlet.

"What is it?" she asked.

"...Sodium Chloride," he answered. "Salt."

Everyone looked at one another, confused, save for Shadow.

"...Fascinating," said Ramsus.

"Okay, new rule!" declared Vega. "No more investigating funny noises!"

"Agreed," said Grey. "We've wasted enough time. For now we'll assume that there are no survivors. Let's keep moving."

_**~[h+]~**_

At the entrance to the Granada, there were bodies everywhere. Mostly Geth, some Krogan. This was ground zero for whatever had driven the Krogan on the suspended city insane.

The Krogan had been consumed. Their bones were clean.

"Well, if Wreav is here, he ain't gonna be talkin'," said Vega.

"Look for a huge Krogan Skeleton, then," said Anderson. "Fan out."

"Do NOT touch his nanotech melee weapon if you find him," warned Bau. "In fact, if you've got the program, Incinerate it. Lieutenant Devereaux? Do not get too close to him! A nano-infested Wanzer is the last thing we need."

"I know he can convert people, but an entire Wanzer?" she asked incredulously.

"Trust us," said Grey. "We know what we're talking about."

After a few minutes, they had found neither Wreav's body nor his weapon.

"I have received an update from Gadolt. They're on their way to secure this place. I told them to be... extra careful."

"That's good to know," said Anderson.

"Well, Wreav just ain't here," said Vega. "Not that we checked every nook and cranny of this place..." he pointed at the open doors of the Granada Hotel. "Who wants to go into the creepy, dark, impossibly huge abandoned hotel?"

"I think Wreav will be dropping in any moment, now," said Ramsus.

"What makes you say that?"

Ramsus pointed up, and Vega saw a huge dark shape approach. The shape scattered, leaving a central mass to keep falling while the rest flew away out of sight.

"Oh shit!" Vega dove away just in time to avoid being flattened by the huge form of Urdnot Wreav, who cracked the pavement as he landed.

The team surrounded him.

"Is he dead?" asked Jenkins.

That was when Wreav snarled and got back on his feet, looking none worse for wear. He saw Wrex and immediately bellowed a challenge.

Wrex's reply came at 2500 rounds per minute. Everyone joined in the fun of perforating the man that had led the raid that had killed hundreds of thousands of people. Even Devereaux.

Everyone save Bau.

"Wait! Stop!" shouted Bau. Nobody listened to him.

"Focus on the limbs!" shouted Grey. Everyone obeyed him.

Wreav screamed in utter agony as he lost his arms and legs to their combined gunfire. He fell over with a wet thump.

Wrex approached his brother, the Vulcan gun's six barrels so hot the amniotic rain boiled away as soon as it touched them. "That was for Bren, you piece of shit." He took out his Executioner pistol and shot him in the quad. Wreav, who wasn't quite dead, screamed. "And THAT was for the Hollows."

Wrex dragged Wreav out of the crater, away from the Spike Maul that had killed Bren. Bau was about to protest this savagery, but Wrex cut him off. "He's still alive," he said, as he dropped his brother at the Salarian's feet. "Do what you want with him."

Everyone looked down at the fallen Krogan Warlord. Elsa was particularly happy at his sorry state.

"My... babies. My family..." Wreav groaned pathetically. "Give them back... Give them back..."

"Err, guys?" said Jenkins. "I think his limbs are growing back."

"They are," said Brea, observing that his hump was also getting a bit smaller. "He'll be back to full strength in half an hour."

Bau promptly shot him full of Neural Shock darts... to no effect.

"Any ideas as to how to keep him secure until Gadolt and his men get here?"

Ramsus knelt besides Wreav and caressed his face. "Hush, darling, hush, my sweet..."

"What?" Wreav coughed up blood. "Wha... no, who are you?"

"It is I, my husband... rest, rest! The children are safe, sound and asleep in their beds."

"Ah... ah..." Wreav began to close his eyes.

"But before you go to sleep, you have a message for me, do you not?"

"I... Yes... A message..."

**"...SHOW ME****,****" **Ramsus whispered.

...

_Wreav killed his way all over the halls, trying to find his children — they were alive! They were all alive! But they kept running away from him._

_"Don't be scared! Please don't be scared!"_

_..._

_In the room there was a man, clad in a burgundy business suit. He smiled at him._

_"I await you on the 222nd Floor, nephew."_

_Wreav didn't care what the man had to say. Where were his children?! The man would tell him where his children were, or he would tear him apart—_

_They came out of the walls, they came out of the floor. Wreav was beset on all sides and carried away, and thrown through the window._

_..._

"Now sleep..." said Ramsus, and Wreav closed his eyes. "He won't bother us for hours. Plenty of time, I think."

"How did you do that?" asked Williams.

"Magic," said Ramsus, his smile hidden by his helmet. He whistled as he got up, calling Hannibal to him. "If you'll excuse me, I have business with the Americans."

_**~[h+]~**_

Anderson watched as Bau tried to destroy Wreav's black maul by using Incinerate. Just as the inflammable gel ignited, the flames went out. A shimmering bubble had appeared over the weapon, blocking the air and starving the fire of air. The metal had been cleansed of filth, and the almost matte black iron became a polished electrum.

"Interesting," said Bau. "Looks like the Geth were smart enough to add some kind of self-defense mechanism."

"Odd," said Anderson. "I would have thought it would self-destruct. A lot of Geth hardware we've found have had their essential components destroyed by built-in charges... and you know what else? I'm not entirely convinced the Geth made this thing."

"Doubtful... The Geth are the only known entities that field this technology."

"Just because you use something doesn't mean you understand it."

"That's..." The notion of not understanding a piece of tech and using it was somewhat alien to him. Salarian children at least have some vague understanding of electronics before being allowed the use of a computer. Humans. Such silly people, sometimes.

Still, Bau had to admit, he might have had a point. On the other hand, one would think that synthetics would take the Salarian approach to tech... but it was obvious to him now that they didn't.

"One would think that the Geth would have been as powerful as Benezia's... other form."

"I know... now that I think about it, Wrex told me a story about the mask she used. Saren had found that thing aboard a private Volus super-freighter, loaded with other riches."

"...And you're only telling me this now?!"

"You never asked."

Anderson and Bau felt a rumble, deep inside of them, and heard the menacing growl of a beast.

It came from the hammer. The two men backed away, slowly.

"If this hammer is the exact same technology as the mask," said Bau, "then we need to put this in a Stasis field immediately!" He called for the first biotic that came to mind. "Ramsus!"

When Ramsus failed to reply, Bau looked for him. He, along with the 108, the dog mech, and the Turian mercenary, were gone.

Bau saw the other Alliance Marines, their way barred by the ones from the United States.

And Wrex.

The woman in the white parka leaned against the doorway. Elsa, in her Wanzer, for its part, kept a close eye on Wreav.

"What happened?"

"They just went in!" said Jenkins.

"I told them to wait!" said Vega. "This place has got juju worse than Caleston, I can feel it!"

Bau came to the conclusion that whatever Scholar was up to, Ramsus had gone up there to either clean up any possible involvement with the AIA or steal Europa Genomics technology for them. Neither possibility was acceptable.

"Let me through," he commanded.

"No," said Ryan, his Omni-Shield ready to bash away anyone that tried to get past him. "It's for your own good."

"_Nobo__d__y's_ getting through," Grey added. "Whatever is up there is possibly more... dangerous than Benezia was. My men nearly died the last time, and I'm not going to risk any of their lives again like that. Or any of yours. So back off."

Bau was about to protest just as he heard the now very familiar sounds of Balzac transports approaching.

"This isn't over."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>[Angel's Egg OST Track 05 - Memories of Water]<p>

"Well! Isn't this nice and familiar?" said Garrus sarcastically, as the elevator's doors opened to a darkened hall.

Ramsus had initially punched a key to take them to the top floor, only to be stopped at the 222nd floor. Adam tried to override it, but failed. Considering that, up until now, he could make machines do nearly whatever he wished, this was a bit troubling.

Hannibal growled. **"I don't like this. We are deep in our enemy's territory and they can control where we can go."**

"Ah, you speak!" said Ramsus a little too cheerfully, considering the circumstances. "So you haven't gone primal again. That's good: my Gilbert and Sullivan is a bit rusty."

"Focus, please," said Adam. "The elevator's locked. It needs a key to go up any further."

"And I know just who has the key," said Ramsus. "Come, one of our hosts awaits."

"Maybe we should split up?" said Garrus. "This place is huge."

"Absolutely not," warned Adam.

"And stay close to me," added Ramsus. "Only I can protect you from my sister's influence."

"Wait, your sister's doing this?"

"Not of her own free will, I assure you. Scholar is controlling her. Scholar is making her drive anyone nearby insane. The sooner we deal with him... and everything will be better."

Just as he stepped on the floor, the sensors were tripped, and the screen-walls flickered on, barely illuminating the walls but clearly revealing the blood that was splattered over every surface... but the bodies it belonged to were nowhere to be found.

_"H-h-hello,"_ said Scholar's distorted face, repeated every two meters on the OLED surfaces of every wall._ "My name is Jonathan Scholar, and I'm here to ask you a question... What do you want?"_

"Your head on a platter," said Ramsus. "And a glass of fine Garrafeira to wash it down with."

**"He can't hear us,"** said Hannibal.

"It's a pre-recorded advert," said Adam.

Scholar's recording continued: he moved through a white background, making a presentation with funny icons and graphs. "A vacation on the beaches of Illium? A mansion built on the floating mountains of Amaethon? A trip to the far side of the galaxy and back? Whatever the answer, whatever the fantasy, our means often don't match up with our dreams. But why should the rich have all the fun? Using advanced Dream Catcher technology, we at Europa Genomics are happy to present you with ARCADIA..." He paused, for effect, the logo of a human head with a spiral inside of it hovering above him.

"The Dream Machine," he said with a smile, and vanished.

Ramsus guided the group towards the room Wreav had been thrown out of. The halls seemed to shift around, trying to lead him astray. When they came across the open elevator, Garrus knew they had succeeded.

"Well. Crap."

"Let's try different halls in the same general direction," said Adam.

They continued walking until they arrived at a crossing of halls. The one in front of them led to a wooden door, the rest back into the dark. They heard a flanged, mechanical giggling, and a small white-haired doll in an elaborate, frilly dress stood in the middle of the hall on their left. She beckoned them to follow, and with clicks and whirrs plaguing every step she ran away from them, into the dark.

"I vote we NOT follow the creepy doll down the creepy hall."

"In lieu of the non creepy ones?" said Ramsus, gesturing to the other three halls.

"I detect the scent of cologne," said Hannibal, "On our right."

"Considering the crowd that frequents this place, I'd say that's not much of a lead," said Garrus.

"Creepy doll, then?" said Adam.

"Hells no! Look, it doesn't cost us anything to open this door..." Garrus stepped forward, and tried to find a haptic switch, but could not find one. "Err..."

Adam stepped up besides him and turned the handle. "I'll go first," he said, Sasha in hand. He stepped through...

And landed in the middle of the tunnel's tracks. Adam looked at his hands: they were small, and weak, and powerless. The steam train roared and whistled, warning him that it would stop for no one, not even a young boy. Adam was only six, and didn't know how to react to an oncoming monster of iron and steam, of fire and hate, save to stare at the light, wide eyed and paralysed by fear...

"Adam!" shouted Garrus, as Hannibal leapt in, bit into the back of Adam's collar, and leapt out, dragging little Adam out of the way onto the safety of the platform.

The train sped by, flames trailing behind it. The blurry glimpses Adam took of the train cars painted the picture of a macabre carnival of nightmares, set to a discord of an orchestra of pipes and accordions. The station itself was a strange combination of an art-nouveau café, industrial architecture sub-way station, and a medieval castle.

_"If your dreams and imagination leave something to be desired,"_ Scholar's disembodied voice echoed all around,_ "Arcadia has a huge array of user-generated content that grows with every single night..."_

Adam looked at his hands. He was big and strong again. The train station moved as he stood still, and he was outside another door.

"Are you alright?" asked Hannibal.

"Yeah... Yeah." Adam got back up, and realized that he was in a different hall, and that Garrus and Ramsus were nowhere to be seen.

"Hello?" he called out.

"RAMSUS!" shouted Hannibal. "... I don't think they can hear us."

"Damn it!"

_**"All is not lost. I still have the scent."**_

"Well, that's the only trail we've got in this insane maze. Lead the way, I'll follow you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The door shut violently in front of Garrus' face as Hannibal leapt through. He shoulder checked it open easily.<p>

"Stop, you fool!"

Garrus ignored Ramsus and pursued his partner...

_...Into a cemetery. Garrus looked behind him, no door. He looked around frantically for a way out, and slowly recognized the place._

_"No... no no no... please, anywhere but here..."_

_The road towards the hill was barred by fences made out of black iron spikes. As he walked towards the hill, his shoes sank a bit into the mud made by the heavy rain._

_"How do you like a tragic past?" said Scholar. "To motivate you into becoming something greater?"_

_Lightning struck, cutting through the night, the flash silhouetting the winged statues of the Archon Titan, looking down upon a young turian, judging him harshly and finding him wanting. Garrus kept on walking. His small funeral suit one size too big for him was wet with rain, the flowers in his hands were ruined and drowned. He discarded them. They wouldn't do._

_Oily shadows in the shape of serpents crawled between and behind the bars, whispering taunts. "Traitor..." said one. "Bastard!" spat another._

_"Failure!" That one stung the most of all._

_Sounds of gunfire and dying guards echoed all around him, telling him not to abandon him. But what could he do? He was just a boy._

_He tripped on a body. It was a man, clad in a white and blue uniform, bearing the crest of a dead House. His comrades lay all around him, and before long Garrus had no choice but climb on a pile of dead._

_Someone was laughing. A woman._

_It had felt like miles, an eternity looping inside a single minute, but he had finally arrived at the tombstone. It wasa foreboding monolith of stone, topped by yet another Archon, its wings fully spread outwards, as if shielding the tomb from rain. On the base of the stone was written:_

_HERE RESTS THE LAST OF A GREAT HOUSE_

_And under that, side by side:_

_HERE LIES LETO VALERIUS_

_10,140 — 10,191_

_BELOVED LEADER AND FATHER_

_HERE LIES MARCIA ATREUS_

_10,161—10,191_

_BELOVED CONCUBINE, MOTHER AND TEACHER_

_May their spirits watch over us all._

_"Of course," chuckled Scholar, "Results may vary."_

_The oily shadows gathered around the monolith, cackling as they merged with it, turning it black. It melted from a fine stone monument to a shabby plank of wood. The carvings had been twisted from their fine Turian Gothic font to mangled claw scratches._

_IN THIS HOLE WE TOSSED_

_THE NAMELESS BASTARD_

_OF A BROKEN HOUSE_

_A clawed hand burst from the mud and grabbed Garrus by the ankles. Garrus kicked at the skeletal arm and tried to get away, only for the rest of the undead creature to drag itself out of its grave to grasp the other leg. Flesh and cloth clung to its bones in strips and tatters. Red flames burned inside its sockets._

_**TRAITOR**_

_The sound was wrong: it came from a non-existent throat. Garrus screamed and kicked, but then the living corpse of a woman joined the other in dragging him down into the earth._

_**YOU LEFT ME TO DIE**_

_"I'm sorry!" cried Garrus._

_**I LEFT YOU A LEGACY AND YOU DENIED IT**_

_"I didn't know what to do!" Garrus tried to kick them away, but it was no use: their grip on his ankles was like a vice._

_**YOU LET THEM ERASE OUR NAME**_

_"I didn't know! I couldn't know!" Garrus clawed desperately at the ground, his talons finding only mud._

_**NOW YOU'LL JOIN US IN THE DARKNESS**_

_"No, please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry I lived! Please! Please!..." Garrus' begging became muffled as he was pulled down, and the mud reached his face. He reached out for someone, anyone to save him._

_All became dark as the mud reached his eyes, and soon only his small talon remained to grasp in futility at the air above._

Garrus felt someone grasp and pull. He gasped as the seal of his helmet was disengaged, and the air rushed back in. He coughed on his knees. He was safe.

"Come on! Breathe!" commanded Adam.

"Adam?" he choked out.

"Yeah, it's me..." Adam looked around, the Turian Cemetery having evaporated back into another of the Hotel's halls. "Are you going to be alright? What the hell was that?"

"It's nothing," said Garrus. "Where's my gun?"

"Nothing? It wasn't nothing! You said you could keep it under control!"

"I thought I did!"

"Bullshit!" Adam grabbed Garrus by the collar. "You thought some power armor was going to make you invincible?! You thought you could walk in the shadows with me because you clothed yourself in the manner of an Archangel?"

"Adam?!"

_**"Liar!" **_Adam threw Garrus into the ground. _**"**__**PRETENDER!**_ _**Remove that ArMouR aNd what are YOU?! WeaK! A liAbilitY!**__"_ The Fandango sprang from Adam's left hand_**,**_ready to pierce Garrus' heart. "Die!"

"You first." Ramsus ran Adam through the heart with the Longinus in sword-mode. Adam screeched and wailed and gesticulated. Garrus caught a glimpse of his helmet opening, and saw a waxy, eyeless face and a toothy mouth.

Ramsus promptly wrestled 'Adam' to the ground and kept it pinned there by straddling it. His back obscured the deed, but it was obvious he was tearing the creature apart, laughing as he did so. Ramsus tore out pieces of meat, bones, at least a dozen eyes, and bright red feathers. Something briefly glowed orange and red, and a shadow was cast on a flickering OLED wall.

Shadows in the shapes of wings.

Before long the screeching stopped, and Ramsus knelt in a pile of salt. He sighed, exasperatedly.

"How very disappointing. They don't bleed. Oh well, at least they scream." He picked up the Longinus as he rose, and tossed it at Garrus. "You dropped this."

"...How do I know you're real?"

Ramsus' helmet opened, revealing his smiling face.

"You don't," he said, chuckling deeply. "Welcome to the _Dark_, Garrus Vakarian... Welcome to the place where men like Adam and I must walk. Is it everything you hoped for?"

"I..."

"I thought you would be strong enough to keep your inner demons at bay, as you claimed you did back on Caleston. I thought you spoke true, after all... Turians are a bit... dull to the likes of me. No matter. Stay here. Stay here and wait while your betters kill the beast in its lair."

And he walked away, leaving Garrus all alone with the monsters that lurked in the shadows of his mind.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hannibal and Adam came upon the source of the cologne. The man had been slathered with the stuff and dragged all around, then hung in the center of a room over a dinner table. Adam quickly concluded that it was meant to draw the mech away. "Divide and conquer," he said. "Classic strategy." Hannibal agreed.<p>

The room, of course, was a trap. Flesh eating insects gnawed their way through the walls. The first thing they focused on was the corpse, and then turned to the other fleshy thing in the room. Adam fled, not wanting to know if the 108 could protect him from a swarm of man-eating beetles. Hannibal followed.

They ran for minutes, unable to go full speed in the maze of halls. The swarm was relentless, and gaining on them.

A familiar giggle rang besides him, belonging to a teenage girl. Adam turned and saw the familiar blue glow of Aleph's little companion, flying besides him, then in front of him.

**"...What is that?"**

"You see her, too?"

**"Yes, but I've recently learned not to trust my senses."**

She flew away, beckoning Adam to follow.

"Come on!" he said. "I think she's going to lead away us to safety."

They followed her down a maze of halls to yet another door, where she simply vanished. This one door stood out: it was a clean rectangle of cold metal, riddled with glowing green circuits. On it was an elaborate, glowing sigil: a tree stuck by lightning, set into a rectangle made out of square symbols, encircled by rotating letters. Adam recognized the symbol, and was about to touch it when Hannibal grunted.

**"Are you sure that is wise? The last time, we were split up."**

"Don't be afraid," said Adam."This is a place of safety."`

The door opened with a gentle hiss. Adam and Hannibal crossed the threshold.

"**Close it!**" urged Hannibal.

"I don't know how!"

The Swarm was just about to cross into the room when they stopped, as if they had lost interest... or as if their prey had simply vanished. The black beetles dispersed, and the door gently closed. Adam sighed with relief.

[Animatrix OST - Beyond]

**"Where are we?"** asked Hannibal.

The room was circular, made of a smooth grey stone. At the center was a small garden: alien flowers surrounded a tree, sustained by a small pond full of glowing water. Set inside the tree, clutched in roots, was a metallic monolith made of black glass riddled with bright holographic green circuitry.

"This is one of the Terminal Rooms," said Aleph, suddenly appearing besides Adam. "My father told me that these are all over the Dark World, a place of safety and rest in a place filled with dangers... as well as a convenient method of saving backups. To this day I do not know if I found thousands of these throughout my travels, or entered the same one over and over again but at different places and times."

Hannibal growled at the unknown figure. Adam motioned at him to be still.

"Peace, Hannibal," said Aleph, his voice almost soothing. "I mean you no harm."

"Aleph, you're here?"

"I am wherever you go, Adam."

"Right but..." the implications of Aleph fully manifest without Adam's head hurting were horrible to contemplate. "...Oh god, I never actually left Arcadia, did I?" It made a strange sort of sense: All the strange, horrible things he saw...

Aleph shook his head. "You did leave, but you have re-entered it."

"I don't remember putting on a DC!"

"Nor would you need to. There is a powerful Element Zero core nearby, powerful enough to create a Dark Energy field potent enough to weaken the barriers between the Real and the Void. We are in an interstice between the two. We are on the edge of the Dark World."

"Dark Energy can do that?!"

"Of course it can. We are talking about something that bends the laws of your universe. Focus it well enough and you can break them... and that is why this Scholar needs to be stopped. He does not fully understand what he is doing."

"Tell me something I don't know!"

"...We do not have that kind of time... Still, I can help you make sense of this maze. How is your suit's Auto-map?"

"Glitchy. It can't make sense of this place."

"Then touch the monolith."

Adam approached the metal slab set in the tree. "It looks like... is that a Grimoire? No, it looks more like a Beacon."

"The Beacons are real world analogues to the Terminals, part of the Amala Network. It is... not what it used to be."

Adam touched the metal slab, and a progress bar appeared on his augmented reality interface. The suit rebooted, and on the corner of his vision Adam could make out a mini-map detailing the rooms he had been to.

"The chaos equation subroutines for your mapping system will allow you to make your way to the one controlling this floor. Hurry to him, defeat him, and stop Scholar... before he drags this entire city deep into the Void."

And with that warning, Aleph vanished, leaving Adam, once again, with more questions than answers. His voice however, lingered:

"Remember. In dreams we are gods, but in nightmares, we are but helpless children..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a room, his room, drowning in milk, with toys that threatened to devour him with razor sharp teeth. Ramsus merely closed his eyes, and let them try. He saw nothing, and moved on.<p>

He opened his eyes. and he was now in the ruins of a bombed out church, ignored for decades. Vegetation had grown everywhere: the walls, the painted ceiling... Shafts of bright sunshine shone on a bed of flowers — Lunar Tears. His mother's favorites. His sisters, too. White doves were frozen in time, mid flight, above them.

Ramsus closed his eyes. He saw nothing, and moved on.

When he re-opened them he was walking on water, the surface of an endless sea.

"Beautiful," he said, but he knew this was but a distraction, and he shut his eyes again, and didn't bother re-opening them.

He let his sister's whispers guide him. He felt the walls, he '_pushed'_ nearby creatures to ignore him and go somewhere else. His palm touched a door, and all became quiet. He knew he found his goal. He opened the door, and when he opened his eyes he found himself standing in a dancing hall.

At the thick, broken windows was a tall, lanky man in a burgundy business suit staring out into the cold night. Ramsus approached him slowly, and he closed his eyes again, this time letting his mind dip in the Dark, where the flow of Colors were at their brightest. Ramsus' hands became a scintillating, swirling vortex of red and orange from which purple embers were born and flew away, in a room that was an expanse of dull, dark grey that BREATHED along with the heartbeat of the man.

The figure before him was the bright center of a thousand hair-thin tendrils, through which pulses — thoughts — flowed outwards. Ramsus had seen that psychic configuration before: an Awakened, just like him, only designed and cultivated to become a 'summoner' — someone that psionically controlled creatures remotely, using rods to conjure them up from thin air. Ramsus chuckled inwardly. Remove all the ceremony and the mystique, and all you had was a child playing with remote controlled toys. How like the Illuminati, to create something in their image: a rich man, using slaves to fight for him.

There was a tether that matched Ramsus' own color attached to the bright blue-white core, pumping energy into it. Ramsus suspected he knew who was on the other end. He disturbed a handful of tendrils in his wake, and Theodore turned around. His eyes were gold, his skin was pale, and his hair was white. The features of an Imaginary Number.

He carried a bundle of cloth under his arm, big enough to hide a weapon.

Ramsus opened his eyes, drew his rapier and set it alight with Biotic energy. He willed his helmet to open. He wanted Theodore to see his face.

"Ah... nephew," said Theodore with a soulless smile. "I see you received my message. Where are your friends?"

"They are not my friends, and you are _not_ my uncle," replied Ramsus. "I'm here for the key to the top floor. Give it to me, and I just might make your death quick."

"Aw, but I brought you a much better present than some keycard!" Theodore unwrapped the bundle of cloth, revealing a thick, wide saber with a wide, curved guard meant to protect the hand. It was not forged, but smoothly sculpted out of obsidian. Most of it was decoratively covered in the carved bone of a great beast, the weapon's creator having favoured some kind of flower motif in the finely sculpted details. A curved piece of obsidian served as the blade, sandwiched between two sheets of bone cut to resemble wings.

Ramsus recognized the weapon immediately.

"Ah, so you recognize it?" Theodore asked. "It's the very blade we had to use to cut you and your sister out of your mother's womb. Nothing else would have done the trick, see? Seven months along and the both of you could generate a Barrier that would have required a tank round to breach. And your poor mother..." He clucked his tongue thrice, as he examined the weapon. "Oh, she was so very angry and inconsolable. We had to put her out of her misery. I thought a quick cut across the neck would do, but Elizabeth knew that only a stab in the heart would end it for good."

"It was her favourite weapon..."

"That it was. There's a certain irony to it, no? We used it to bring you into the world, and then promptly used to it to take her out of it."

Ramsus recalled the moment and bit down on his hatred, feeding off of it, preparing to unleash it at the proper time. "Speaking of Elizabeth, where is she? You two are _never_ separate."

"Tending to your sister. She needs so much care, you know?"

"I thought the Phantom Society would have wanted you to bring her to them. Why is she still in Scholar's clutches?"

Theodore chuckled. "Yes, well, your sister can be _very_ persuasive. We all must serve, Ramsus. Might as well serve a real Goddess."

That took Ramsus by surprise. "My sister can barely talk, let alone convince anyone to betray the Society."

"She talks to _you_..."

"And _only_ to me."

"Ah, therein lies the problem, why Scholar hates you so. I was going to offer you to join us, but..."

"And become Scholar's latest toy? No thanks."

Theodore laughed. "We are all toys, Johann. We are all HER toys. Her dolls, her puppets, her playthings. I see the strings she uses to pull me around. Do you see yours?"

Ramsus snarled and threw a Singularity at him, and Theodore casually swatted it away with the sword, not even bothering to look at Ramsus as the Dark Energy dispersed harmlessly around him. "Ah, I forgot. You think you're the _evil_ twin. My mistake. Still, if it's a fight you desire—"

"I want to KILL you."

"—Then let's make it fair, and make it last." Theodore removed his fine jacket, revealing a harness with a dozen rods. He removed it each rod one by one, and tossed them out of the window. "There, none of my pets will interfere with our duel."

"I say again, I don't want a duel, I just want you to DIE." Ramsus' helmet closed as he drew his gun, and emptied his magazine at Theodore. The Summoner merely dodged, weaved, and danced around them as he approached his nephew and swung, the weapon easily ignoring Ramsus' powerful Barrier.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Want to see a lost loved one once again? You can..." <em>said the advertisement, its voice slightly distorted.

They were in a lab, tended by a bespectacled blonde young woman. Adam didn't recognize her, but Hannibal froze in his tracks.

"She's not real," reminded Adam.

**"I know," **And Hannibal walked away.

_"Arcadia. Your dreams are Better Than Life."_ continued Scholar's recording. Adam wanted nothing more than to punch the smug CEO right in the face.

**"I can smell the Turian..."**

"Good, we must be getting close to him."

To Adam's dismay, reuniting with Garrus had involved a great deal of gunfire, then, after he had moved in to disarm him, a lot of punching, stabbing, and the avoiding thereof. Garrus seemed enraged, screaming obscenities, something about Adam being a pretender, an imitation. Garrus' training, combined with a pair of Omni-Blades, a power suit, and the fact that Adam was doing his best _not _to kill his friend, had made the fight had drag on a bit. He had, in fact, pushed Adam so far that he deployed his Fandango.

When Garrus saw that it was on Adam's right arm, there was a lull in the fight. "Who are you?!"

"Garrus, it's me!"

"Prove it! Tell me— Oof!"

Hannibal tackled Garrus to the ground and pressed his paw against his skull, threatening to crush it.

**"Your proof, **_**Turian**_**,"** Hannibal spat, **"is that we're not killing you though we have you at your mercy." **To make his point, Hannibal promptly got off Garrus and let him get up.

"And they wouldn't give you back your weapon," said Adam, as he did just that.

Garrus sighed as he took it. "That's the _second_ time in too long, damn it. Err... Sorry about attacking you on sight, there."

"Don't be. I'm thinking you were attacked by someone that looked just like me?"

"Not quite like you," said Garrus, pointing at Jensen's left arm. "But yeah." He shook his head, feeling ashamed and a bit depressed. "Spirits, I hate this place... How, how did you find me?"

Adam told him about the upgraded Auto-Mapper and promptly uploaded it to Garrus' suit, along with the map data Adam had gathered. Getting to the area where Wreav had been thrown off the building would be simpler now, and Garrus gladly followed Adam's lead there.

As they got closer to their goal, they heard shouts and laughter, slashes and blasts, rumbling though the walls and the halls. Someone was fighting.

Hannibal urged Garrus and Adam to hurry.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Garrus burst into the room by shoulder checking the double doors wide open. The large room was wrecked: the windows were broken, the furniture had been smashed into pieces and the walls had been cut apart.<p>

Adam engaged Ramsus' opponent immediately, hoping to knock him out to interrogate him. And figure out what the hell was going in Upper Dosadi. To his surprise, the man in the fancy shirt and dark burgundy pants effortlessly dodged and weaved around his blows before surprising him with a Biotically charged palm strike that would have sent Adam out of the window had it not been for his Zero Shift.

Hannibal, being far more knowledgeable about Theodore's capacity for violence, held nothing back. He fared no better.

"To hell with this!" Garrus fired an energy beam at the suit, only to watch in surprise as he put his palm up and the beam scattered. Ramsus used his opportunity to try and behead his 'uncle', but Theodore dodged him easily.

Theodore clucked his tongue. "Well, this is hardly sporting, nephew," he said. He was trying to hide his panting.

"Breaking a sweat, Theodore?"

"A bit," replied the Imaginary Number as he produced a silvery rod from the sleeve of his fine, expensive shirt. "Let's even the odds, shall we?" The ring at the tip of the tube rotated, and a glowing green crystal pushed itself out. Theodore threw the tube to the ground, shattering it, and a green mist surrounded him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The European Marine Colonel and the leader of the Deep Eyes were shouting ultimatums at each other when Williams noticed a handful of green dots up above, rapidly approaching. The metal tubes hit the ground and, strangely, shattered like glass, releasing a huge cloud of glowing mist. At first she thought it was high-density gas, but the way it spread so quickly and its green colour alarmed her.<p>

"Gas Attack!" she shouted as she switched from her filters to her suit's air supply. "Seal your helmets!"

That got everyone's attention. _"Do as she says!"_ urged Anderson over the Codec. The nearby European Marines ran away from the cloud as it spread. Strangely, the mist was quite heavy, and eventually the particles mingled with the liquid on the floor.

Williams heard something cry nearby, and her eyes widened in horror as she saw the source

The fluid that had been raining down gathered itself up into a small humanoid in the shape of an infant, but the similarities with a young human ended with the lack of eyes. From there, it got worse as the rest of the body began to take form. It was chubby, with pale waxy, lumpy skin tainted with black veins that surged to life once the heart was formed. Malformed wings sprang from its back, beating loudly to lift the small body and allow its tiny legs to form.

Williams knew those malformed wings couldn't allow anything to fly, but they did.

The Putto smiled at her, revealing two rows of disturbingly and perfectly even incisor teeth, yellowed and caked in dark brown filth. It giggled, and before she could react Williams was fighting it off, desperately trying to keep it from eating her face. It managed to tear off a portion of her visor, letting Williams have a good look at its maggot infested mouth, as she grabbed it by the wings and smashed its body against the ground to stomp it flat into a splatter of dark blood that quickly turned into white salt.

The other Marines around her weren't doing as well as she was. From up above an entire swarm of the very same creature she had encountered in the alley had rained down upon the soldiers. Some of the winged creatures carried them off, their screams growing distant, while others held them down to let the children eat, their screams growing louder before being cut short as their necks were torn open.

One of the larger creatures spread its set of six regal red wings, letting the 36 eyes set into the feathered humeri focus on her. He pointed at her and snarled, exposing its blackened fangs. Williams knew what that thing was: one of God's creatures, one of its servants... and it had come to kill them all.

_This is the Day of Wrath,_ she thought.

"OPEN FIRE!" screamed Gadolt over the Codec. He need not have bothered: Williams' survival instincts had pushed religion well out of her mind, and she wanted to live.

She had fired her gun at the Seraphim seconds before the order was given, screaming at the top of her lungs.

That was when the Putto she thought she had killed attacked her from behind.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The green mist coalesced into three forms, each a sort of counterpart to the group.<p>

Hannibal was faced with a canine armoured in bone and black chitin, a smoking aura emanating from its head and back. It growled at the mech, baring its huge, pointy teeth. Hannibal growled right back.

Adam was faced with, of all things, a knight in fine armor, covered in glistening blood that seemed to flow out of a golden wine cup. The Red Knight grabbed it tightly by the stem.

Garrus was faced with a winged human made of obsidian in dull red armor, wielding a spear and a shield.

The Barghest. The Red Knight. The Power. Theodore introduced them all with a flourish, and the fight resumed. The Red Knight armed itself with a segmented whip sword that sprang from the cup, set alight with purple flames. The Barghest vanished in and out around the room in a puff of flames and smoke, and Hannibal couldn't keep track of it as it blindsided him over and over again with its claws. The Power was constantly flying after Garrus, keeping itself well within spearing range. Blinding flashes from its eyes kept Garrus from taking proper aim. All of Theodore's constructs were incredibly powerful and resilient, and while Adam had managed to overcome the Red Knight, the Power threw a blast of energy at it that repaired it immediately.

Adam knew this was going to be a long fight.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The European Marine squads were all broken by terror and blood. Only the Normandy's and Deep Eyes' soldiers kept it together. After coming to Williams' rescue, Grey had ordered everyone to take cover in the Granada's main atrium, thinking that they could cover the doors and keep the creatures at bay with focused fire.<p>

When they sprang from the ground, he knew he was wrong.

"More on the left!" shouted Anderson. "Tossing grenade!"

"Urdnot!" barked Grey, "Covering fire!"

"I'm almost out!" complained Wrex.

The creatures were powerful, strong as a man in power armor and capable of firing off incendiaries. They were also brutal, relentless and, for all intents and purposes, nearly immortal. Every time the Marines downed one, it seemed to regenerate from a pile of dust after a few seconds, though Grey noticed that it took longer when he killed one with his Serpent particle carbine.

During the time it took for a creature to regenerate, some kind of weird cloud of blue voxels and static seemed to hang over it. Grey thought it might have been some kind of glitch in his helmet. He tapped the side of his helmet, hoping that would fix it.

_"Spectral Plasma Entity detected," _said Burroughs. _"Recalibrating optics... done."_

What Grey saw then made his blood run cold: At the end of hundreds upon hundreds of long, thin tongues of flame, there were strange creatures made of ethereal orange flame, eagerly waiting for their return to the bloodbath. One of them passed through a nearby panicking Marine and tried to do... something to him, but apparently failed. The Marine, for his part, seized up so hard he broke his own spine.

One of them got too close to Jane, and by conditioning and instinct and reflex, he fired at it, boring a few holes into its ghostly form. It silently roared in fury, and disintegrated into another pile of salt. The resulting creature was downright pathetic, and quickly knocked out of the fight.

_"Tarukaja program loaded and active. Switching polarities."_

The AR status readouts on his Serpent went from standard to bright blue, and Grey perforated the nearest ghost, causing it to melt and die. That was one creature that wouldn't come back.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" shouted Brea. For all intents and purposes, Grey was shooting wildly at nothing.

"Sir?" asked Ryan. "Please tell me you haven't gone crazy!"

"Ryan, I know this sounds crazy, but I'm actually saving all our lives!"

Or at the very least, delaying the inevitable. He only had one OVO cell left for the Serpent.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Neither Adam nor Garrus, or even Hannibal, fared well enough against their foes to give Ramsus a helping hand for even a moment, and Ramsus was in desperate need of help. For all his power, he simply could not best Theodore in a stand-up fight. His barriers were useless. His biotic Throws were easily deflected. <em>Curse that sword! <em>he thought as a gash in his suit was opened, scratching the skin. _If it wasn't for its properties, this fight would have been over in seconds!_

Theodore executed a move that pulled Ramsus in for an elbow strike to the head, stunning him long enough for Theodore to tear off the face plate with his bare hand. Ramsus swung in retaliation. Theodore blocked, blocked, and blocked again until the two blades were locked. Ramsus' rapier was alight with a roaring storm of biotic energy, echoing Ramsus' fury. Theodore's obsidian saber weathered that storm, letting it wash over it, in parallel to Theodore's self-control. Sparks spawned at the contact point of the edges, illuminating the faces of the two psionics.

"And now," said Theodore. "Let's get rid of that rebellious spirit, shall we? We've entrusted you to these amateurs at the AIA for too long..."

Theodore reached into Ramsus' mind, and slowly began to destroy his brain. Ramsus resisted with his own power, confident that he would win. He had, after all, recently overcome the mind of an ancient insect queen.

But Theodore was better.

Ramsus fell on a knee, and Theodore pressed his advantage, bringing the blade closer to Ramsus' neck.

"Typical." Theodore smiled. "You always think you can overcome everything through sheer power of will. Shepard has been a bad influence on you... I think I'll burn those sweet memories of hers away once we're done here."

Ramsus could feel the inside of his skull get hot, and the trickle of blood coming from his nose. "Don't..." he struggled to talk through bloody teeth. "...you... dare!"

"And while I'm at it, I'll burn a lesson into you, boy... without focus, all your rage is naught but hot air..."

Ramsus tried to say something, but he started to choke and cough on blood. He was losing.

"Discipline. That is where true power lies... And when we rebuild your personality you will understand that all too well."

"...nooooo..." groaned Ramsus weakly, as he felt the blood in his ears boil.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa had never liked the callsign 'Angel'. It implied that she was a divine creature of purity and goodness, and not the violent, drug-addled, nicotine-addicted, drunken mess that she was.<p>

After this carnage, after gunning down hundreds and hundreds of these things in futility, she would hate that name forever. Gadolt — that miserable asshole! — had sent the Silver Drakes on a wild goose chase, and they were minutes away from her.

Minutes. It didn't seem like much, but when you were fighting for your life, a minute was an unbearable eternity of stress, of blood, and screaming. Going by her sensors, there were a few hundred of the creatures, but that had been more than enough to send Gadolt's two companies into disarray. Over a third of the men and women in them were already dead.

Elsa had managed to rack up quite a few kills before the hundreds of winged men and infants took note of her. They flew up in the air, gathering together into a swarm that quickly formed into a ball. Their intent was obvious: Smash Elsa's Zenith down, then tear it apart. Elsa tried to stop them, but the ball of feathers and waxy flesh made of salt quickly reconstituted itself. If only she could dodge away. Alas, her jump pack was gone.

The swarm charged at her, a million teeth bared...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Shhhhh... Johann. Shhh... go to sleep..."<p>

Ramsus screamed in agony, and Theodore knew that he couldn't last much longer. Theodore closed his eyes, letting his mind dip in the Dark, and looked at the flow of colours that would allow him to rewrite Johann back into an obedient, sweet young boy. He found nothing but a bright red dot, brighter than the sun. This was true psionic force, undiluted by the Dark Energy of element zero nodes. No, this was fueled by hate and desperation and love, and focused into a single point and aimed right at...

"...Oh dear," muttered Theodore as he opened his eyes. Ramsus was staring right at him now, and roaring in fury.

That horrible moment of revelation was quickly followed with Theodore's head exploding into a millions chunks of wet bone and bloody brains set alight with fire.

"Lesson learned, uncle," said Ramsus.

He spat blood on Theodore's corpse, showing all the respect his 'uncle' deserved.

Garrus was just about to land the killing blow on his foe when it turned to salt. He checked on Adam, then Hannibal. Both of them were just as confused as he was.

And maybe just as disappointed.

The air felt lighter, and less foreboding. The blood on the walls vanished, and this part of the Granada Hotel was restored to its pristine appearance... save for the marks of battle.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The swarm of angels bashed against the Zenith, and Elsa closed her eyes, expecting at any moment that her cockpit would be torn apart and that she would be devoured by the would-be angels. After 10 seconds, she started to wonder what the hold up was.<p>

She checked her visual feeds. Nothing. Was she dead? Was purgatory the inside of a cockpit in an endless void?

She made the Zenith move, and judging by the fact that there was indeed gravity, according to the Wanzer's gyros, and sounds of relief from nearby soldiers coming from its audio sensors, she realized that no, she was not dead, and that she was buried in a pile of salt.

"Grey here." Elsa heard the US Marine through her radio. "Is anyone out there left alive?"

"I am," said Elsa as she made her Wanzer dig itself out of the salt pile.

"Gadolt here." The Colonel's voice was raw from screaming orders. "Could any of you explain to me what the hell that was?!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Behold the legacy of Majestic 12," answered Ramsus as he fished out a silver rod from Theodore's pocket and tossed it at Adam. Before that, he had spent an entire minute kicking the dead body, then stabbing it over and over again with the obsidian blade. "'Magic', as conceived by JC Denton when he bore witness to the power of an Universal Constructor. The power to create life."<p>

"Are those names supposed to mean something to me?" said Garrus, annoyed.

Ramsus barely acknowledged him as he fished out a keycard out of Theodore's pocket.

"This is nanotech," said Adam as he examined the tube.

"Exactly," said Ramsus. "And far, far more advanced. I don't fully understand how they work — I'm a killer, not an engineer — but they're designed to be used by people like me." He tapped the side of his head, for emphasis.

"Who was that guy?" asked Garrus, pointing down at the mess of gore.

"His name was Theodore." Ramsus' mouth curled in disgust.

"That's it? What the hell was with the strange critters out of some bad video game? Couldn't he just create a small army of mechs and be done with it?"

"That's not the Phantom Society's way. Some use the shadows to hide their activities. Theodore and his ilk use the power of superstition, a cloak of unbelievability. When this is over no one will believe us...And that's all I care to say on the matter. Hannibal? Come."

At the large broken window, Hannibal turned to meet the gaze of his old friend. He walked up to Ramsus, who knelt in front of him, obsidian blade held in reverence in both hands.

"I need you to take this somewhere safe, away from here." He pushed the blade close to Hannibal's face, and Hannibal clamped his maw around the middle of the sword.

"**Don't make excuses. You're sending me away.**"

"Clever boy. Still, the sword is... precious to me. As for sending you away, I'm sorry... but it's obvious to me now that only me and Adam can face what's up there. After all, Scholar has shown you a vision of your _everything_, did he not?"

Hannibal looked down, as if ashamed. "**...Yes, he did.**"

Ramsus got up and looked at Garrus. "And it seems, it did not take much to fool you into shooting your own friend."

Garrus was quick to protest, not liking where Ramsus was going with this. "If you think I'm going to leave you alone with—"

"You are BOTH a liability to us. You began to falter at the edge of Hell, and we're only going deeper from here," countered Ramsus. "Scholar will use you against us."

"Garrus," said Adam. "He's not wrong."

"The hells he is!" shouted Garrus, angrily. "Adam, look at me! Look at this armor, this weapon! I worked on it for days so that I could be right there next to you when you face the insurmountable! You've seen what I can do now! I'm ready Adam! I'm powerful enough!"

"The more power you think you have, the more likely it can slip from your grasp... or be used against you, or your friends. Garrus, Scholar won't hesitate to make us kill one another. Like Ramsus said... he very nearly succeeded."

"Adam, no..."

"I'd trust you at my side against an army of thugs, pirates, mercs... but against this... corrupting evil, I can't. I'm sorry. You have to go, for both our sakes."

Garrus was overcome with the urge to throw his weapon down on the floor in frustration, like a petulant child that didn't get his way. Discipline won over his conflicting feelings of loyalty and jealous anger. "...Damn it. You're right, damn it!"

"**Come, Garrus**," said Hannibal. "**I heard signs of battle down below. Perhaps we can better assist the soldiers there.**" Hannibal leapt out of the window, and without a word nor even a glance, Garrus fired up his jets and followed him down.

Ramsus' hand flared with biotics, and he created a chair made of debris to sit on as he nursed himself back to health. "Well, that was tense. Now if you'll excuse me a moment, I must replace half my blood with Medi-Gel."

Adam sighed, not happy about having to send his partner away. "That sword," he said, "It made a mockery of your biotics. How?"

"Magic," said Ramsus coyly as he injected his second hypo.

"Bullshit."

"Nanomachines, then. Look, I don't know, alright?"

"You said it was precious to you."

"It's the one memory that's clear in my head." Ramsus, happy that he was no longer bleeding from the head, checked on his _Alghul_ sawed off carbine. To Adam's surprise, it was chambered for .357s. He found it odd that he and Ramsus shared similar taste in weapons. "I don't suppose you have some .357 rounds to spare?"

"I do, as a matter of fact... but they kick like a .50 BMG. Sure you can handle it?"

"I apply my biotics to everything, even gunplay," answered Ramsus. Adam gave him a fistful of his own spare ammo, Sandal's green hand load at the top. Ramsus examined that one, sniffed it, and smiled. Pocketing it as he loaded the rest in the Alghul's tube magazine.

"A corrosive toxin. My, my, aren't we a boy scout? Always prepared."

_So that's what that thing is,_ thought Adam. "As you say. Are you ready to go now?"

Ramsus took a deep breath, checking his lungs for bruises. When they were gone, he picked himself up, checked his sword and gun, and sheathed them. "Yes, enough time has been squandered."

As they made their way back to the elevator, Adam checked Sandal's black bullet. The way it shone in the light... he briefly wondered if it was made out of the same stuff as that blade. If it was... it would be really useful against a powerful biotic.

Adam loaded it in Sasha's last chamber, just in case.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Gadolt had barked orders for the reinforcements to secure the area and had everyone undergo hazmat precautions and procedures. Reports were coming in. The ground battle was pretty much won; however, he had yet to receive any status updates from the Acheron. For all he knew, the Geth were getting ready to bombard the hell out of Dosadi.<p>

He had the Warlord's electrum weapon secured in a stasis field and kept close for eventual transport. The Krogan himself? He was locked tightly in a large cargo crate, and would be dragged to Earth into the waiting arms of the WTO. This was, after all, _their_ colony, and they had every right to try the criminal. The Spectre protested on both counts, claiming that Wreav's involvement with Saren and the Geth was a galactic concern. Gadolt countered that they were technically not in Citadel space. If the Council wanted Wreav in their clutches, they would have to deal with the WTO's lawyers.

And as for the weapon... well, what did the alien know about safe disposal of nanomachines? Better to take it into the Acheron...

Yes, that would be best. But until it was time to return to the ship, Gadolt would be watching the weapon very closely.

Now, there was the matter of Scholar unleashing biological weapons upon his men. There would be a reckoning for that.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The muzak came on, as if to taunt Adam and Ramsus as they made their way up past the tram station, past the floof, and into Upper Dosadi proper. Adam kept the elevator powered and locked out Scholar's attempt to keep them out.<p>

"You said you stormed your way up here before?" asked Adam.

"All the way up to the top of the Granada Hotel," Ramsus said, almost wistfully. "So many dead Manticore mercs. I'm half the reason why they didn't have enough men to keep Wreav and the Geth at bay."

"And Scholar just let you go up?"

"In hindsight, that was somewhat suspicious."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In his office, Scholar took off his glasses, sighed, and massaged his eyes. "Oh dear. It seemed your brother failed to stop him."<p>

"Oh, why did it have to be so?" said Elizabeth, sadly. She would miss this Theodore, but he could be replaced with another. Still, it wouldn't quite be the same.

"Well, I expected this," he said as he took out a small, transparent bio-hazard container from his desk. "Go and tell my acolytes to prepare, and..." For a moment Scholar's eyes closed and darted about as if in an REM trance. "... and to crank up the dark energy output. It seems Wreav brought us a friend. A very hungry friend."

"Should I not be the one delaying little Johann?"

"No, I'm done sending proxies. Sometimes... direct intervention on my part is necessary. I just recently lost an Imaginary Number so quickly after gaining two. I'm cutting my losses. Go. The Goddess awaits her aunt."

The finely dressed woman dismissed, Scholar was left alone to admire the contents of the container.

The Magatama Symbiont Prototype twitched, stirred, and opened its eyes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Grey was in the midst of trying to explain what he was doing earlier when it happened.<p>

Hannibal had been running down the wall of the tower when it happened, with Garrus flying close by. They were half-way down.

And Elsa? Elsa had told to Hermes to switch out her backpack with Zoller's.

It was a strange feeling that hit everyone left in Middle Dosadi, more so to those that were closest to the source. For a moment every piece of debris and dust and bullet casing and dust particle floated up, then violently came back down. It felt as though reality had been torn open and turned inside out, and everyone was pulled deeper into something unfathomable.

And then, the feeling was gone. Nothing and nobody came out of the ether to attack them, so everyone resumed their business.

All except Burroughs, the Demonica's AI, who put a stop to her explanation about Spectral Plasma Anima Constructs and was _very_ adamant about everyone getting the hell out of here, just as Garrus and Hannibal landed nearby.

The entity inside the Maul, unlike Naamah in her mask, was a beast content to slumber until the time of the Feast, the time signaled by a surge of Dark Energy throughout the galaxy.

The time was not now, but the Holy Beast was not aware of this. It awoke from the maul, its massive ghostly form loosing hundreds of tendrils, snatching the entire of Anima of hundreds of hapless sapients — soldiers, judging by the flavour. Some among them were witches, for he felt pulses of dark energy course through his form, making it grow strong. Bullets passed harmlessly through him.

Having had his fill, he quickly resumed his glorious warform, for there was material aplenty to be had. His master's nanites worked quickly, and he could feel his white mane grow of his back, his blood coursing through freshly formed veins, and the feathers growing out of his taut, thick forearms. Sharp talons emerged from his red, gleaming, anisodactyl hand. He breathed in the air for the first time in eons, and regaled himself with the smell of prey.

And then, he caught the stink of _Beth_, one of the first Prometheans, the water-obsessed _WHORE._

He roared in fury, remembering her part in the Great Betrayal.

**"MORTALS!"** He screamed, as bullets bounced off his hide. A quick snap of his serpent tail sent a shockwave throughout the area, and all were quiet. **"I AM HASHMAL LEPHANTIS, THE HOLY BEAST! ...AND I DEMAND YOU ANSWER ME! WHERE?! WHERE IS THE **_**BETRAYER**_** AMONG YOU?!"**

Instead of obeying like good little cattle, four Metal Golems barely half of his size engaged him in battle.

**"SO BE IT! FIRST, WE SHALL HAVE SOME SPORT!"**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ding.<p>

The elevator doors parted. Adam and Ramsus stepped out, expecting to be beset by mechs or guards or even worse. Instead, only silence came to meet them, and that terrible feeling of being... somewhere else but here.

The floor they had emerged onto was part of Scholar's 'Manor', the inside of which was a vast testament to neo-baroque architecture with an ancient Mesopotamian flair, with its square pillars and arches and walls of brown stones. It was, also, the terminus for the elevator, just three floors shy of the top.

_"Gentlemen,"_ said Scholar's voice echoing through halls four times as high as Adam was tall, affable and polite._"Welcome to my home. I... can't quite join you at the moment. I have preparations to make, you understand."_

Ramsus realized this wasn't a recording. "Your funerary arrangements, perhaps?"

Scholar chuckled. "_Always with the sense of humour. Who's your friend_?"

"He calls himself Shadow. An apt name, don't you think?"

_"... __**Very**__ apt, yes. At first I thought it was some kind of machine, but even machines can be read if they are smart enough... but I can't quite get your sister to lock __o__nto him, no matter how many times I ask her to. Curious. Very Curious."_

Ramsus' eyes widened, then his expression and tone became menacing and vicious. "Annah. Let Annah go and I'll make your death quick and painless."

Scholar laughed. _"A free bit of education? Never start negotiations with a death threat. And I would be more than willing to negotiate... if she wanted me to. Only she doesn't."_

"That makes no sense! Why does she call to me if she does want to get away from you?"

_"Why do women do anything?" he scoffed. "We men are but their playthings."_

"What do you mean?! Answer me!"

Scholar said nothing, and Adam urged Ramsus to keep moving and find a way up. "Don't let him get into your head."

"He _isn't_ in my head," countered Ramsus, annoyed. "I would know."

"Some people don't need psychic powers to do it. All they have to do is talk. You should know that better than anyone."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Scholar's home wasn't so much a place of residence as a museum, a testament to his work... which, to Ramsus' annoyance, he was more than happy to narrate. Occasionally they came across a trapped room with a puzzle for them to solve. If they didn't, they would remain locked inside. Adam was very good at figuring them out. Ramsus? Not so much, but his last attempt at simply destroying the walls and ceilings had proven futile, and he had no choice but to follow Adam's lead. The entire building, it seemed, was rated to withstand nuclear strikes; they made a mockery of a biotic and a cyborg.<p>

They came across a room with every single major building in Dosadi out on display. A maquette of the entire Dosadi Arcology itself... though the part representing Upper Dosadi was missing.

_"Dosadi was going to be a grand experiment for social engineering for the Illuminati, as well as a testing ground for new drugs and biotech, evaluations for compatibility and marketability." _Scholar sounded almost bored_. "That was all it was going to be... but it grew into something more."_

They moved on to a medium sized room with a simple mat. The white marble walls were lined with wooden racks on which scrolls were set. Adam examined the scrolls, and saw that they contained drawings and diagrams of Hatha Yoga poses.

_"Ah, relics from my early days learning the Illuminati variation on Hatha Yoga. Boring, but I had little choice but to stick with it. Still, as much as I hated it, I felt that there was... a purpose to it, something missing from the philosophies, even as my instructor rambled on and on and on. I looked to many other philosophies to fill in the gaps, eastern and western and even alien. Aura, Prana, Qi, Od... so many words for what is essentially the same thing."_

He paused for effect. _"The Antediluvian ancients called it... Anima. And the benefits are undeniable: __Thích Quảng Đức set himself on FIRE and did not so much as move or scream as his flesh turned to tallow and cooked.__ Gathering that thing, controlling it... that is the path to greatness."_

_"And then I thought to myself, how do I gather this thing? Cultivate it, harvest it... Make the process more efficient? More potent? More convenient? More profitable? I spent decades figuring out the answers."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At first Adam thought this was a gallery of mannequins. When he saw the girl in the living dress and the clone she had tormented suspended in glass stasis tubes, he knew he was wrong. He approached both young women,intent on freeing them.<p>

Ramsus stopped him. "Don't bother. Their minds are empty and cold. They would not know what to do with the freedom you want to give them."

Adam looked down at a holographic screen next to the bratty teen. On it there was a schematic for an electronically-augmented brain, with some text on the bottom:

_Shankar Corp. "Michelle" Beta Gamma 9 - Model 12_

_Krypto Prototype 3.23_

Every woman here was a _clone, _and each one's brain had a substantial amount of electronics that got smaller and more refined as one went along the gallery.

_"I bought a Sosamshin model from a friend of mine — at great cost, I might add — and when I examined her uniquely modified brain I thought I had my answer. After all, what is experience but memory? I poured a hundred lifetimes into that thing, but I never quite got what I wanted out of it. Losing her was a setback, but... Valuable lessons were learned. I refined the Krypto from an Omar partial cyberbrain to a tiny, itty-bitty chip. Some of my finest biotech work."_

"...Why?" asked Adam, as he struggled with the implications that Kasumi was a part of the experiment that was Dosadi. "Why toy with the memories of people?"

Scholar snickered audibly. _"They're not _people_, they're clones, and blank ones, at that. But in answer to your question... I experimented on them because of a flaw in my conclusions. What is Anima but experience? What is experience but memory? I thought by playing around with memory, I could manipulate that primal energy. But I was wrong. Experience is just that, experience... you have to live it."_

"And Arcadia, where does that figure in your research?"

_"Ah, you see... nobody said that the experience had to be grounded in reality. Dreams — intense ones — can do just as well... Can you imagine, Adam? Everyone on Arcadia has lived through hundreds of years of experience from the comfort of their beds..." _Scholar let out an amused chuckled._ "...and forgot about it all in the time it took to yawn!"  
><em>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam carefully examined the last room with his Smart Vision, and realized that there was a spiraling flight of stairs built into the floor that would take them to where Scholar was waiting for them. Adam attempted to will the stairs to move into place, but it seemed the mechanism was completely analogue. Trying to biotically move any of the parts would cause the whole system to break, so that meant that, once again, Adam had to solve the puzzle in the room.<p>

The puzzle concerned the order of, and this was quite a shock for Aleph, a set of 11 Promethean tablets. All were made of a jade-like substance, inlaid with gold — no, Oxium alloy — and marked with the sigil of five wings arranged into a spinning star.

The mark of Gimmel, the third of the Prometheans. The master of Air and Illusions...

... and Dreams.

Adam shook his head after he processed the tingling surge of information that, once again, left him with more questions than answers, and focused back on the puzzle.

Each tablet floated above its pedestal, and each pedestal was arrayed in a circle around where the spiral stairs were to appear. They were all damaged: burnt and cracked, no doubt from years of clumsy attempts at interfacing with them.

Adam tried to touch one of the tablets, only for it to fizzle out and distort between his fingers before resuming its shape. It was a hologram, of course. Scholar's laughter rang out into the room from unseen speakers.

_"Did you really think I would leave multi-billion nuyen Prothean artifacts laying around?"_

"Where did you get these?" asked Adam.

_"Through the hiring of a small army of treasure hunters, the bribing of corrupt archaeologists, the paying of tomb raiders. That's not really important... It's not even important that I got some interesting data on brainwave manipulation and inducing altered states of mind through sound."_

"What was important, then?" asked Ramsus, containing his own excitement as Adam worked to solve the puzzle. Soon he would have Scholar by the throat...

_"What was important was that my research required me to use my own product, and that got... someone's attention. And that someone pulled strings and got me involved with Project Gestalt... and that got me Annah, as the Phantom Society were making no progress with her."_

Scholar sighed wistfully.

_"And then... she opened my eyes, Ramsus. She tore them out and she SHOWED them to me, and through those bloody voids in my skull I saw a world beyond imagination. Up until then, all I could do was sow Anima, but Annah..._

_"Annah showed me how to __**Reap **__it._"

The puzzle solved, the staircase rose from the ground as a hole in the ceiling opened.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[Remember Me - Rise to the Light]<strong>_

Upper Dosadi, unlike what Adam had expected, was not an opulent playground for the super-rich. There were no golf courses, no fancy restaurants, no floating mansions. Instead, Upper Dosadi was nothing more than a dark enclosed space two kilometres high, host to a ziggurat in the middle of a sea of an amber fluid, the part above sea level little more than a triangular island with a length of about twenty meters. Above them, half a kilometre away, was the primary source of illumination: a floating crystal cube that slowly spun on its corner, glowing with an ethereal golden light. Droplets of faint sunshine gently flowed outwards from its surface and into the bright linings of transparent clouds.

From the dark amber sea came spectres and phantoms and ghosts made of golden flames that swam into the air, an ethereal fauna of creatures that resembled fusions of serpents, fishes and moon jellies and everything in between. They hovered around the cube in gentle orbits, singing in unison a gentle whale song.

Adam hated to admit it, but his heart was filled with awe at the sight.

At the edge of the island, sitting at a small round table of glass and metal wrought in a baroque style, was Johnathan Scholar, reading a newspaper made of digital paper. A matching tea set was upon it, with three cups full of steaming liquid. Next to the tea pot was an empty glass cylinder.

Adam and Ramsus approached him, weapons in hand.

"Once upon a time," Scholar began. "In a time of division in my order, there was an assassin, peerless in skill and strength and beauty, who rebelled against her masters. Until, inevitably, she was found. Before her death, she spoke a curse upon us all...

...

_"MY CHILD WILL NEVER BE YOURS! " screamed the woman defiantly, surrounded by death. "HE WILL BE THE ONE TO LEAD US INTO THE DAY, WHILE YOU WILL LINGER IN THE SHADOWS, FOREVER!"_

_..._

"...and here I am, basking in the light of a god, and here you are, a creature of death and darkness. Funny how things work out."

"You know nothing of my mother," said Ramsus, bitterness and anger and bloodlust barely contained.

Scholar looked up from his newspaper and smiled at the sight of the pair. He put down his reading, got up, and approached them. The bespectacled bearded man, clad in a business suit, was just as tall as Jensen, and it was clear that he had once been built like a linebacker. Age, and a life of leisure, had made him soft and a bit fat, but there was still quite a bit of muscle in that body. No match for a cyborg or a biotic, of course.

"Mister Jensen," said Scholar, with admiration in his voice. Adam couldn't quite tell if it was genuine or rehearsed. Maybe Scholar didn't even know himself anymore. "I have been hoping for us to meet ever since we lost you in Detroit."

"You've got the wrong guy," replied Adam.

"_Please_, don't take me for a fool — I hardly need psychic powers to figure out who you are under that gold visor: Your first instinct when faced with a puzzle room was to investigate. You thirst for answers to the unknown, as any _detective_ would. When you dove into Arcadia that first time, my techs followed a bunch of complaints and found a recording of you, and I've been watching for you ever since..."

Scholar spread out his hands, and holographic images of his fight with Draven and Corvin appeared all around the CEO... amongst vids put up on the net by Mr. Weltall.

"Your fighting style has been thoroughly documented, and you've put them on a fine display here in my arcology. You have a dual arm blade stance reminiscent of the ancient Illuminati assassins, combined with the gunplay— nice _revolver_, by the way— of the more modern ones—"

"I am NOT an Illuminati," said Adam, cold and terse.

"—And you don't laugh at the mention of the Illuminati. But the greatest evidence of all? Look down."

Adam took a quick glance down, then did a double take. His boots were surrounded by plants and flowers riddled with green circuitry that sprang from the ground. "What in the hell..."

Scholar smiled victoriously. "Just like your avatar. Now!..." he sniffled, "Now that we've been introduced, is there something you want from me?"

"...I have questions."

"I only have ONE!" Ramsus was on the verge of roaring. "Where! Is! ANNAH?!"

Scholar rolled his eyes and ignored Ramsus. "Of course, of course... ask them!"

"What is this place? Why in God's name did you create it?"

"This..." he spread out his arms, "...is a bioetherium-rich dark energy environment ideal for the birth of the Gestalt larvae. These larvae are then put inside the Krypto chip, gathering excess Anima borne of... intense dreams until they mature and return here to their mother..." he pointed up, to the cube. "At which point Annah creates more of them. The cycle continues, and more and more Gestalt — and Anima — are gathered here."

Ramsus stared up at the cube, his mind formulating a plan to get up there and coming up a bit short.

"And the people?" asked Adam. "What happens to them?"

"The people? Nothing! This has been going on for years, and they suffered no ill effects..." he adjusted his glasses with a finger. "It was a mutually beneficial arrangement, you see: I'm a _businessman_, not some cliché dark lord! They provided me with Anima, and in exchange... I connected them to something greater than themselves, and each other on a subconscious level. Annah and I made them feel content, and fulfilled... surely, a bit of Anima isnot such a steep price to pay?"

"No ill effects...? We saw a man's head explode as a Reaper infant tore its way out!"

"Well of course it did! When Saren's thugs came knocking at my door I had no choice to crank up the dark energy field to maximum and unleash the children upon them all! Something like that was bound to happen but I had no choice!"

"No choice?! The EU Marines were on their way! All you had to do was wait!"

"SOMEONE— I won't say who..." he looked meaningfully at Ramsus. "TORE his way through my security forces the last time he was here, and SOMEONE ELSE," he looked at Adam, his jaw set, "took out Manticore's top leadership. My guards were quickly cut to ribbons and my doors were about to be breached! What was I supposed to do, let the Krogan in? And the Geth? Can you imagine what SAREN could do with my discoveries?!"

Scholar closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, and regained his composure. "But I can be gracious. I can forget the billions of Nuyen in property damage you've caused. I can forgive you breaking into my home, and I can even forgive you killing Leng. I am willing to simply let you walk away... unless you're willing to take my offer for a job. I have an opening, you know."

Adam glared at Scholar. "You MUST be joking."

"Adam, look at me..." Scholar put his hand on his shoulder. "Look at me and see the spirit of David Sarif reborn. For like him, I aim to change the human condition. Cybernetics, Gene mods, Biotics... all respond to the Will, and this technology can grant humans the means AND the Will to make all of their dreams come true. And the Illuminati? Who do you think sent the Geth here? I have become their enemy, and that... makes us friends, does it not?"

"Sarif was a lot of things, but he didn't do sick experiments on kids."

"As far as you know," Scholar chuckled. "But yes, I had to make experiments, yes, some people got hurt along the way, and some even died — I regret that, believe me. But you CAN'T let that get in the way of the DREAM!"

"Adam," Ramsus said coldly, a tone that would tolerate no betrayals at this point. "He _enslaved_ my sister. Turned her into a component for a nightmarish machine that breeds disgusting creatures!"

"None of this would have happened if HE had not come here," countered Scholar, "if he had simply stayed in his prison. His mere presence has caused Annah fits of insanity! Why, Manticore has had to clean up so many messes! For example... one of their hackers spasmed himself to death just as he connected himself to Arcadia. Not enough? Four of my clones awoke and went AWOL, doing terrible things to one another in public,traumatizing children along the way. Eleven young Arcadia users were found dead in their homes, their bodies twisted by seizures! Oh, and don't get me started on the impossibly gory murder-suicides!"

"Don't listen to him! If I had that kind of power over my own sister do you think I would have needed your help at all? He's the one controlling HER!"

"...Yes, a control that slips from my grasp every second he stays here. Even if you refuse me, you can't deny that Ramsus is pure evil. Nothing good will come from him contacting his sister. Do you have any idea how many people he's killed? Raped? _Eaten? _Adam, you're a policeman. You give men the justice they deserve, not the prizes that they want."

Adam considered what Scholar had said. The man... well, he had a point. "You know what? You're right. I DO give men what's coming to them."

"Excellent, then—"

Adam punched Scholar across the jaw so hard his head twisted and snapped his spine. The man died instantly, and fell on his back.

"That was for Draven, you piece of _shit_."

Ramsus stabbed Scholar in the skull. "Ah, I do wish you had let me do the honours. Still, I do like your style." He breathed a sigh of relief as he cleaned his blade before sheathing it. He looked up at the cube. "So this is where she is. Finally. Finally, she and I will be reunited. Now... there has to be some kind of elevator around here... or a vehicle?"

"...Ramsus."

"Yes?"

Adam thought back about what Scholar had said about Annah getting more... erratic as Ramsus got closer to her... and realized that he was telling the truth.

The Manticore hacker...

...  
><em>"Sorry," snickered Riviera. "We kinda burned the real Baofu out a while back, and now we're in need of another cyberjockey like you. Don't worry, we offer a fantastic severance package."<em>  
><em>...<em>

The escaped clones...

_There was a blonde girl downstairs, and she was beating up on a young black-haired woman in a black and white maid outfit, thwacking on her head over and over again with a fur purse... that yelped with every strike. Jensen zoomed in and, to his horror, that purse was actually a Welsh Corgi bio-engineered to become a living accessory._  
><em>...<em>

The eleven dead Arcadia users...

_..._  
><em>"You mentioned other dream Hackers?"<em> _Ken looked somber. "Yes, I sent eleven other Dream Hackers. None of them came back from their jobs."_

_..._

And the murder-suicides...

...

_The AIA station, a small three story office building built in a residential area near the Souq, was as nondescript as possible when looked at from the outside. Inside, however, was a modern installation, full of sensitive data, well-trained guards, and a security system that could give an STG operative pause._ _Or at least there would have been, if Johann hadn't passed through here. All Jensen and Moody had to do to get in was just... open the front door. He was greeted by a grimacing corpse propped up at the secretary's desk. A huge smile had been carved out of his small mouth. The bodies of thirty other people that were his co-workers had been treated with even less respect._

"Oh... oh dear god,_" muttered Jensen. He had dealt with serial killers on the Citadel and in Detroit, but as insane as they were, they were never this depraved._

_..._

_Ramsus stared at Adam, a confused look on his face. "_What AIA substation?"

_..._

_The deeper they got into the building, the more horrid things got. Someone had turned this place into a charnel house: Bodies were hung on makeshift hooks, ritually sliced apart. Everyone gave Wrex a glare._ "Hey, Krogan don't do that shit! I mean, leaving a bunch of good meat to spoil like that — it's a fucking waste!"

_..._

_"_You think you're the EVIL twin,_" said Theodore._

_**...**_

**"Only the chipless are free... from the GODDESS."**

_**...**_

"Ramsus... I don't think Annah will be happy to see you."

"Don't be ridiculous. Of course she would be! I have come to free her from this... _cage_." Ramsus grimaced, finding the word disgusting.

"No, I mean... I don't think she wants to _leave_."

Ramsus gave Adam a look that told him he understood exactly what he meant... but then he shook his head. "Bah! Enough talk!" dismissed Ramsus. He drew his sword and held it like a throwing spear. "I think I can project this far enough."

"What for?"

"I can't Charge like Shepard could. I need a beacon of dark energy to Displace from one spot to another like that." The sword flared. "Of course, the range on my technique is a lot better."

"'Half a kilometer' better?"

"I have no idea," Ramsus smiled. "Let's find out, shall we?"

Just as Ramsus was about to biotically project his weapon towards the cube, the coffee table was smacked against him, thrown by a great force. His Barrier took it, but he dropped his sword.

The contents of the table clattered on the ground, and Adam saw the writing on the glass tube:

Magatama Prototype - **Kailash.**

That great force belonged to Scholar, who was standing just fine enough though his head was twisted backwards. He grabbed it with his two meaty hands and twisted it back into shape.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me..." Ramsus emptied the magazine of his Alghul at Scholar as the large man charged at him with surprising speed. Adam fired five shots from Sasha.

None of the bullets brought Scholar down. He smacked Adam out of the way like a rag doll, and lunged at Ramsus, intent on grabbing him by the neck. Ramsus reacted by bringing his sword back into his hand and swung for Scholar's skull, intent on splitting it open.

Scholar grabbed it with his bare hands, the biotic energies surging from the blade doing nothing to the meaty fingers.

"You two..." snarled Scholar.

Adam got up and jumped on Scholar's back, intent on choking him out. Despite the power of his suit and his augs, Scholar's neck held fast.

"...just FUCKED..." Scholar reached back for Adam and easily tossed him into the ground, while simultaneously snapping Ramsus' blade off and grabbing him by the throat and hoisting him up.

The infant Reapers snarled, and came down upon the trio. They buried themselves in Scholar's flesh, who became as sunlight in the shape of man. Powerful winds surged out of the light, and Ramsus had to look away, his breath knocked out. The light subsided, and Ramsus' blood ran cold.

Scholar was no longer there. Instead there was a giant nearly the size of a Roegadyn, covered from head to toe in segmented plates of brown chitin, on which Rangoli Lotus patterns were carved. A vile looking, ribbed horn was on his head, and his codpiece was shaped to mirror it. The plates on his face were twisted in a permanent grimace of rage. Lines of energy burned through jet-black flesh, their light both gold and orange, from between the seams in the bone armour. The eyes were glowing embers inside dark voids.

[Castlevania Lords of Shadow 2 OST - Carmilla Fight (Grand Battle)]

**"...with the WRONG CEO!"** the giant snarled, his voice incredibly profound, his mouth opening to expose two rows of sharp teeth. **"Look at me, JACK! Look at me and tremble! I am Annah's Shaman!**" Scholar looked up and cried. "**IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT ANNAH?! A handsome, strong creature like him to replace me at your side?! I understand, I understand the appeal, but..."** black tears flowed from his glowing eyes. **"Have I not been faithful?! Have I not been your most successful of servants?! This is the temple I built to HONOUR you...!"** Scholar's voice broke, filled with sorrow only the betrayal of a great love could cause. **"...to keep you WARM and SAFE and FED. Why? Why him?!"**

"What the fucking hell are you even talking about?!"

Scholar looked at Ramsus. **"I see... I will SHOW you, Annah! I will crush him before your very eyes, and you will see that ONLY I can be your Shaman... No, more than a Shaman..."** Scholar tossed Ramsus away. He could have broken him in two easily: He was completely at his mercy, but this would be a duel, and Scholar wanted his victory to be absolute. He cried out to the cube above. **"I SHALL BE THE HARBINGER OF YOUR ASCENSION!"**

Ramsus got back up and called the shards of his sword back to him, holding them together by sheer force of will. Dark energy emanated from his body like flames.

Adam deployed his Fandango and activated his cloak. His body became as a black shadow, riddled with lightning... and unfortunately, in this place, more visible than ever.

Both men ran at Scholar at once, while the mutated giant simply raised his right hand in the air, a glowing hexagon set in the back of the larger chitin gauntlet's hand. He brought a mighty fist down on the ground, and the resulting shockwave caused both Adam and Ramsus to float helplessly in mid-air as reality twisted and unravelled all around them.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Ramsus floated in a dull grey void, along with puzzle cubes made out of buildings of various styles of architecture, and infinitely long high-tech metal spires. Suddenly, gravity took hold of them and pulled them sideways towards a platform: an arena, and waiting for them were a dozen Copleys and a Jackal. Scholar looked on from a floating platform hight above. <strong>"KILL THEM!"<strong>

Adam and Ramsus easily killed the first wave of attackers, which were intent on tiring Ramsus out. When denied his favourite drink — blood — Ramsus' spirit waned, and in this place this was a death sentence. His swings, arcs of red biotic energy, grew slower.

Adam, on the other hand, seemed to get faster and stronger the more mechs he destroyed, and it was obvious Ramsus' failing spirit was being sustained by his mere presence. That was very interesting.

**"No more of that, now!" **chided Scholar as he split the arena in two. **"Let's divide and conquer..."** Adam attempted to Charge back towards Ramsus, but Scholar sent him to another dreamscape to alter his sense of distance. He would be lost, and Ramsus was now alone and vulnerable.

Scholar landed on the Arena with a thud, a big grin on his face: Ramsus was panting, out of breath. His sword was broken and useless, but he still had his biotics, and he still had his fury. With 3 swings of his hands he threw twenty-one bolts of red biotic energy. Only two hit Scholar in the chest, while the rest flew in the air. Scholar laughed, and was about to attack when Ramsus grinned and brought the stray bolts back, timing their impact just so that Scholar would implode. It worked: The giant's armour was cracked and broken, and his body, lingering with dark energy, floated up. A single Warp bolt, and the field was detonated. Scholar was consumed by the explosion.

Ramsus fell on one knee, panting. His rest was quickly interrupted when Scholar, still very much alive, ran up to him and delivered a palm strike to his chest. Ramsus was projected meters away and landed on his back, coughing.

"How?!" Ramsus spat blood. "Why aren't you DEAD?!"

"NAGASHIMA CELLS, BOY!" declared Scholar, as the cracked plates reformed themselves. "Or at least the N9 Replicant version! The symbiont inside of me forms carbon-laced ceramic plates over my skin, and repairs any damage as soon as it is inflicted!" He stomped the ground, did a brief yoga exercise, and entered into a Kalaripayatt stance. "You can't hurt me, Jack! But you're welcome to try!"

Ramsus screamed at the top of his lungs and engaged Scholar in a biotic fist-fight. Ramsus was faster, dodging and weaving around most of Scholar's palm strikes, but Scholar had excellent timing, and scored devastating critical hits on Ramsus' Barrier.

**"It's hard, isn't it?! To fight without being able to read your opponent?!"** Scholar laughed as he countered Ramsus' haymaker. **"You're not a real fighter, Jack, you NEVER WERE! You depend on your psionics for everything! Your sword-play, your gunplay, your biotics!"** As he spoke, it became easier and easier to counter Ramsus' blows. **"You're a man-child, given to the AIA to become an attack dog! You convinced yourself that it was okay to indulge every sick, murderous cannibalistic impulse you had because you love your darling innocent little sister! Oh, please! You're nothing but a rabid animal, JACK! And you know nothing about your sister, NOTHING!"**

"YOU TALK TOO MUCH!" With a surge of speed and power, Ramsus narrowly dodged a knockout punch and delivered a counter-strike — a tightly closed fist into Scholar's mouth — just to get him to shut up.

Scholar smiled. **"NaiF Drry..."** and bit off Ramsus' hand just as he delivered a palm strike to his solar plexus. Ramsus went down screaming, and was now a pathetic wreck on the ground. Scholar chewed through bone, polymers and flesh as he approached his vanquished foe, then swallowed. **"Hmmmmmm... I think I finally understand your particular taste in meat, Jack..."** He picked Ramsus up by the sides of his head, and began to crush it. **"I think I'll have your heart next, and that I'll ****eat it right**** in front of Annah, with your head as a centerpiece on the table. What do you think?"**

Ramsus began to giggle insanely. "I think you'll find I'm hard to digest."

Scholar felt something pop inside his stomach, and a stinging green bile welled up in his throat. The pain was agonizing, and Scholar dropped Ramsus and hugged his chest. He puked blood both black and green. **"WHAT DID YOU DO?!"**

"I left a little gift inside my hand— a bullet filled with Corrosive Toxin, courtesy of Adam!"

Scholar breathed hard, closed his eyes, and used his Illuminati yoga training to control the Anima flow in his giant body, slowing the poison, numbing the pain. **"It! Doesn't! Matter!"** Scholar stomped the ground, the shockwave causing Ramsus to stumble and fall. "You can't capitalize on your advantage!" He leapt up and prepared to finish Ramsus off with an elbow drop. **"You're FINIIIIIIISHED!"**

Ramsus took a deep breath, brought his two legs up, and delivered a biotically charged double kick right into Scholar's kidney, sending the mutated giant flying.

**"Bah! You only delay the in—OOF!"**

Adam appeared in the air with a burst of biotic energy, right in Scholar's way, and delivered a lightning-imbued punch right to the CEO's face, sending him crashing into a nearby floating building. Scholar fell into the infinite void before an island of cubes formed beneath him so that he could land with a loud and very painful thud. Scholar got up; his tongue hung out, his face was without feeling save for a tingling sensation.

Adam landed nearby, blue lightning crackling across his body. "My turn."

**"How? How did you escape my maze?"**

"Does it matter?"

Scholar snickered. "**No, I suppose not.**" Scholar's gauntlet shone and he brought up his fist as Adam dashed forward. Their fists met, and the shockwave distorted reality once again.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus watched as the two men vanished, leaving him in a rapidly disintegrating dreamscape. He caught sight of Jensen's high-frequency blade, planted on the ground near him, with a dose of Medi-Gel nearby. Ramsus groaned and grabbed the sword first, then held it by his teeth as he injected the Medi-Gel applicator into his neck.<p>

"Now, how do I get out of here?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam found himself in a dark forest of trees made out of the bones of children, fed by the blood of their mothers. He caught sight of Scholar's twisted, giant form walking away from him, vanishing into the trees. <strong>"Catch me if you can..."<strong>

Then he saw another on his left, then on his right. There were dozens of them, coming in and out of sight.

**"Which one? Oh! but which one? So many to chose from..."**

Adam had absolutely no clue which was one was real: his Smart Vision gave him no insight as to which one to follow.

Then, out of nowhere, Aleph's pixie appeared, and pointed down. There was a trail of green puke, fading fast. _The poison bullet, _Adam realized. _Ramsus must have hit him with it._

"Hurry!" The pixie cried, "before the poison runs out!"

Adam ran as fast as he could, following the trail back to an immense Renaissance palace, as designed by a child with no sense of gravity and balance. He smashed right through the huge, thick double doors. Adam felt powerful, and that feeling grew with every second he spent here. Lightning crackled beneath the soles of his boot as he ran faster and faster. Was this all a trick? Was he strapped to a table somewhere in Scholar's labs, running through a simulation? No matter. If Scholar was watching him through monitors, he'd see his self-insert avatar getting defeated, over and over again.

Waiting for him at the end of a regal hall of ruby walls lined with gold was a Dayak, its teeth bared and prepared to swallow him whole.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the middle of a circular ballroom of ivory walls inlaid with gold, Scholar took deep, controlled breaths as he purged the poison from his body, gathering it all up in his stomach. The Dayak he created would guard him long enough to—<p>

BOOM.

The doors exploded open as Adam jumped through them, dragging the nearly dead Dayak behind him. He threw it down at Scholar, and the former Illuminatus, thinking fast, vomited a stream of corrosive poison at the projectile, disintegrating it before it could hit him. Adam followed close behind it, his fist raised and glowing gold. Scholar leapt out of the way before he landed, and the elaborate lotus pattern mandala on the marble floor was ruined with a spiderweb of hairline fractures.

**"You're going to pay for that, Adam..." **Scholar's gauntlet glowed, and ethereal serpents surged out of the hexagon. **"TO ME!" **he screamed, and after a blinding flash of light Jensen was surrounded by twelve identical duplicates of Scholar, and absolutely no clue as to where the real one was.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Once again, Jensen's Smart Vision failed him: as far as he could tell, they were all Scholar, right down to the guts: heart, lungs, liver, the comma-shaped symbiote... Even the chip in the left hand. He figured the fake ones would be weaker and easier to take down. He was right on the second part. The first? Not so much: Each Scholar replica was as fast and powerful and as skilled as the real deal.<p>

He learned that the hard way when one of them broke through his visor with a powerful spear hand strike that broke the lens of his right eye. Scholar's clones smiled, thinking that they had earned an advantage, thinking that Adam would be handicapped by a lack of depth perception. It was their turn to be surprised, when Adam returned the favour two-fold against one of them, using his arm-blades. The eyeless duplicate turned into a pile of salt that vanished into the ground.

It didn't rematerialize.

To make up for the casualty, Scholar brought six angel statues to life, their stone shells cracking and exploding to reveal waxy flesh and magnificent red wings. Adam simply Zero Shifted from one to the other and stabbed each one in the head.

They didn't remateralize either.

**"How?!"** screamed the Scholars in unison, **"How is this possible?! The creatures should be returning! No matter! I can always make more!"**

Adam was now confronted with a veritable army, and regretted not taking anything with more crowd control capabilities than just Sasha. Old habits, and all that.

_Considering __m__elee seems to work best on these damned things, maybe I should have brought Toombs' giant chainsaw axe along__, _thought Adam.

_Will it, and it shall be so,_ Adam remembered Aleph telling him. He remembered re-creating a dreadnought: an axe should be easier. When he felt the weight of the Desert Wind in his hands and heard its HF modulator humming, he knew he has succeeded. With every swing, he took down multiple foes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The more Adam killed, the more monstrous he became. Now he no longer looked like some Tokugawa robot. Now he looked like a demonic knight, armoured in smoking shadows, his right eye a glowing ember of pale cyan. None of the Gestalts returned from their broken shells, and while the reason was evident, Scholar refused to accept it.<p>

It was down to his clones, now.

**"Nice trick!" **taunted Scholar. **"But you know how the song goes..."**

Scholar willed his duplicates to form their own weapons: Urumis, maces, hammers, even chakrams. They moved in sudden bursts of speed, scoring hits on Adam's armour, but not his flesh.

**"Anything you can do, I can do bet— NOOOO!" **Adam easily cleaved another duplicate in two, and moved on to the next, and then the next one. Scholar's calm was fraying at the edges. It was down to six duplicates, now. They surrounded Adam and dashed forward all at once, intent on goring him with their horns. Adam leapt straight up, letting them all crash into each other at once and explode into salt.

Scholar came out of his hiding place, appearing just above Adam to smash him with both fists and send him straight into the ground. He swung, only to hit air. Adam reappeared right behind him and swung.

The chainsaw bit into Scholar's plates on his back, but didn't reach the spine. Scholar roared and reached behind him to grab the vile weapon and tossed Adam to the ground, and the cracked marble shattered into a million pieces.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam landed in a dark, foggy cemetery, the imaginary Desert Wind nowhere to be seen. He was face to face with a tombstone. He half-expected to find his name on it, just so Scholar could mess with his head. He was half-right: Instead he found the name 'Arthur Jensen' carved into the stone. On the stone next to it, Margie Jensen, and on the stone next to that one, Sarif...<p>

...Malik, Pritchard, Haas, even every tombstone set into the black dirt bore a name. A friend, a member of the family, a lover... all from his past.

**"How does it feel, Adam?"** said Scholar. **"How does it feel to be the only one left?!" **Something enormous emerged from the fog, a mechanical monstrosity the size of two houses in the shape of a tarantula. Its six legs — no, arms, for they ended in disproportionally large, bony hands — were made out of sinew and bone. Festively colored cloth served as their skin, under thick bronze plates sculpted into fish scales. The body was made of green brass fishes and dark seashells, the face was a grimacing Venetian mask with bugged out eyes made of painted porcelain, split down the middle from forehead to chin to reveal a cockpit lined with comfy quilted red leather. At the controls and levers made of brass was Scholar, his chitin face twisted into a smile. The mask closed, and the mouth opened, revealing a black iron cannon.

_**[The Toy Maker (Grand Battle) - Castlevania: Lords of Shadow 2 OST]**_

Scholar shot Adam with a fireball. His target leapt out of the way, cursing, narrowly consumed by flames. With more flaming projectiles on the way, Adam had no choice but to flee.

**"Look around you, Adam! Look at those you left behind! Oh, I can't tell you how hard we tried to thaw them all out... but a hundred years in cryo did terrible things to their bodies. But I'm not**** a**** doctor! Don't take my word for it!"** Scholar's hellish machine grabbed a large clump of dirt and threw it right at Adam. **"Here! Have a look for yourself!"** It exploded right in front of him, sending dirt and body parts right into him. One of them hit him hard enough to put him on his back. He shook his head, shaking off the dizziness, and saw a dead woman on top of him, her gray skin dried and burned by frost. Her shrivelled lips were peeled back to reveal dark brown teeth. Her empty sockets were staring at nothing.

She wore a gray and orange jumpsuit.

**"THEY'RE ALL DEAD****,**** ADAM! IF YOU HADN'T RUN AWAY FROM ME SEVEN YEARS AGO WE COULD HAVE SAVED THEM ALL! ALL THESE DEATHS ARE ON YOUR HEAD!"** Scholar fired on Adam again, and the cyborg was engulfed in flames.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was not over. To Scholar's surprise, Adam emerged from the flames, more shadow and flame than a man anymore. At least he stopped moving around. Then another Adam emerged from the flames. Then another, and then another, until there were twenty-five of them. They all wielded a chain axe.<p>

Scholar made his Magitek Tarantula's back open, sending hundred of missiles against the group. The swarm made the comical whistling sounds of fireworks before it erupted into a staccato of thunderclaps as they hit their targets. Unfortunately, thirteen 'Adams' remained, darting about in bursts of dark energy, climbing on the machine's limbs and hacking away at the joints. Scholar managed to keep them off the two front arms, but the other four limbs were destroyed. Scholar roared in fury and turned the battlefield into an empty dark void, in which the Adam duplicates fell helplessly until Scholar shot them one by one until all that was left was the one trying to tear open Scholar's cockpit.

The Tarantula's abdomen spat out a golden chain that hit a rapidly forming ceiling just as the tarantula gripped Adam with both hands and threw him down onto the ground of the theater.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam barely had time to enjoy the warm red tones of the rococo-style theatre when he saw a giant bony fist come down on him. His Tech Armor surged to life, soaking a couple of the blows, giving him time to find a chance to Zero Shift away.<p>

**"Why, Adam?!"** Scholar pleaded angrily as the machine swung back and forth and his assault renewed. **"Why do you persist in fighting me?! What are you even fighting for?!"** Scholar's machine's fists shook the ground with every impact. Adam had to evade shockwaves powerful enough to kill a man. **"I have a grand vision for the world!"**

Adam felt an unearthly scream surge from his throat that caused the huge chamber to shake. Two giant arms made of black steel sprang from the ground, mimicking the movements of Adam's own arms. He grabbed the machine's two remaining limbs with them. Scholar reacted by firing his cannon.

Adam reacted by grabbing the cannonball, spinning, and tossing it back at the Venetian cockpit mask.

Scholar ejected from the tarantula as it exploded behind him, and engaged Adam in melee. His hands were a blur of palm strikes and punches, jabs and swings.

[pause music]

**"I dream of a world FILLED with people like me— like YOU! Demi-Gods!"**

Adam punched Scholar in the solar plexus, causing the mutated CEO to snarl. He continued his assault, undaunted. **"I dream of bringing angels and demons into the world! I dream of making the world WONDERFUL again! Filled with both incredible beauty and unparalleled horror!" **Scholar's flurry of punches accelerated, and Adam was being battered into submission. He targeted his chest, ensuring trauma to the vital organs. **"A world ruled by personal power, not the influence of money!" **Scholar pressed his foot on Jensen's chest, but the man still managed to struggle. **"You've wronged me, in more ways than one, but you can still make it up to me. You can still become a part of my vision."**

**"If..." **Adam coughed, his voice felt wrong. **"You think I'll join you, you've got another thing coming..."**

**"You misunderstand." **Scholar picked Adam up by the head with his left hand, and the hexagon flared with golden light. **"I'm not giving you a choice."**

Adam screamed.

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Deus Ex: Human%$&amp;?%?23121!"%&amp;("%aasc<strong>_

_**34/"/$%"%&Syndicate: Corporate Dominion**_

_**Chapter 2**_

_**Adam %$""Leng is voiced by Troy Baker**_

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Adam brought the Typhoon prototype to Pritchard's office, not looking forward to the man's inevitable snark.<em>

_"Well, well, well! Here comes Mahatma Ghandi come to grace us with his life-preserving65487%$%/%t4isC:`L245isn't/?/&/$re4l_

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Kai Leng brought the Typhoon <em>_p__rototype to Pritchard's office._

_"Well, well, well... Here comes Attila the Hun, fresh from the killing—"_

_Kai Leng smiled wickedly. He had been hoping the geek would give him an excuse to break his fingers. He left him enough to keep working, then went to report to Sarif._

Wait.

That's not how it happened...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam screamed and attempted to stab Scholar with his left armblade. Scholar used his free hand to stop him.<p>

**"Shhh... you're just too valuable to kill, Adam... I took an out-of-work actor and I turned him into a deadly killing machine. I'll remold you into the finest corporate samurai the world has ever seen. Fearless, obedient! Not bound by petty morality!"**

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Kai Leng left the unconscious bodies of Tindall <em>_and__ Carella into the car and pushed it into the river. The two thieves woke up just in time to realize their predicament and beg for their lives._

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Boss, what you're asking me to do, it's not exactly legal," said Adam.<em>

_"Yeah, so?" replied Sarif. "Do you have a problem with that?"_

_"As a ma(&%?3klfj5f—_

_?&F4"/%&*" "Get in that station and extract that body, before our competition does," said Scholar. "Do whatever it takes."_

_"Got it, boss. I'll go check the armoury."_

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"And Adam?" said Haas, relief coming over his face, as if a great weight ha<em>_d__ been lifted from his shoulders. "Thanks."_

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Alright, you fucking monster!" screamed the blonde cop. Kai Leng knew a paper pusher when he saw one. There were twenty other cops besides him, taking cover, while the rest kept him suppressed. "It's thirty against one! It's OVER—AAAAAAAAARGH!"<em>

_Leng smirked as the napalm round set the cop alight. "No," he said, "Now it's **fun**."_

_**~[EG]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"LENG!" Screamed the pilot over the radio. Leng hadn't bothered learning her name. "DON'T LEAVE ME!"<em>

Leng didn't like the odds, and besides, ammo wasn't cheap. "Sorry darlin'. Looks like you won't be getting that severance package after all." He cut the channel, and escaped.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>"You can resist all you want, but resistance... is not immunity. There, almost done... almost... soon you will be reborn! Soon you will—"<strong>

Adam's screams became unearthly, his visible eye flaring orange. From his head surged out a gestalt in the shape of a thousand people fused together. Some of the faces were contorted in pleasure, others... in agony. The most tormented of the lot were a trio, a large muscular man with a ring in his nose, a bald man, and a woman with a mohawk. They reached out to Scholar, and he wondered if they were begging him for release.

Or warning him of imminent danger.

Scholar stood there, frozen in terror at the sight that towered above him. "What... what is this? I... what..."

A shard of red metal imbued with dark energy planted itself in Scholar's outstretched arm, and suddenly Ramsus appeared, inches away, in a red burst of light, his armor covered in blood, the torn bodies of Seraphs that had desperately and futilely tried to stop him on still clutching his shoulders and arms, an HF sword raised high with his good hand and wearing an expression of pure fury.

The blade came down on the joint, severing the gauntlet. Scholar screamed and backed away as Adam fell on his back.

"Do excuse me," said Ramsus as he bit his sword by the handle and picked up Scholar's severed forearm. He tore out the bones and planted his own stump inside the hollowed-out shell of muscle and chitin. As the shell darkened and burned with red fire, and reshaped itself to a smaller size, Scholar focused his Anima and willed his body to completely regenerate his arm.

The chip glowed red in Ramsus' new hand. "Now it's my turn to make you _scream."_

Scholar dashed forward in a sudden burst of speed, hoping to gore Ramsus before he tried to use the Arcadia system.

He was too late.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Scholar found himself in London, as Ramsus had experienced it as a boy. It was a maze of dark alleys walled off with wet black bricks, filled with whispers that always fluttered out of reach no matter how quickly Scholar ran.<p>

_**"Where... where am I?" **_Scholar wandered the alleys until he came upon a street with floating globes of blood that glowed bright enough to challenge the neon beams that illuminated the writhing constructs made of naked legs and limbs, of faces connected to one another through red worms or shafts of flesh both pink and dark. For all his size, these creatures had no eyes for Scholar. In fact, they towered over him, making him feel small.

_gO O_n K_iD kEEP LoOkI__**n keep LOOKING keep lookin it's a FREE SHOW hahahaAHAHAHahahahahaAHAHAHA**_

Scholar sought refuge back in the alley. Waiting for him were boils that emerged from the bricks, and melted to reveal eyes. The whispers intensified, and shadowy hands — hundreds of them — came out of the shadows to grab him, to take him away, to tear him apart.

_No,_ he thought. _NO._ _I may have lost control of Arcadia but my body — no, my immediate surroundings — it is all my domain, and I am its Master._

He assumed the Lotus position even as the shadowy hands grasped at his plates, and focused his breath. The Illuminati method of meditation, the order's only true secret, was a method of imagining your body dissolving into light. In the Real World, its only benefits were stress relief and longevity. In this layer of the Void, it was a path to power.

Scholar felt a surge of light well up within him, and smiled. **"Ah... Annah, you have not abandoned me..."**

Lightning struck him, dissolving his body into a black cloud.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"WAKE UP!"<strong>_ Ramsus kicked Kai Leng awake repeatedly. Or was he Adam? Yes, he was Adam. For all of the intensity of Scholar's brainwashing, he had forgotten to remove the very experience of seeing one's memories change before one's very eyes. That memory was the fulcrum, the sweet spot that led to a crack in the Kai Leng Persona, and the memories unravelled themselves in moments.

Yes, the man rising from the bench in the stone pedestrian alcove was Adam Jensen.

"Where the hell are we...?" He looked up to see a tower — Big Ben, to be precise— in the distance, right next toa bridge with buildings built right on top of it.

"London," answered Ramsus nonchalantly as he admired his new hand. "At least, as I remember it from my days as a boy."

"It's..." Adam took a glance at the architecture. "...medieval-looking, all of it..."

"Indeed? I must have mixed things up from a book I read. No matter. Scholar is lost in a dark maze, a taste of what he made us both suffer through. Let's go find the little rat, shall we? I intend to have his heart, lungs and liver for supper."

The clouds in the night sky gathered. The roar of lightning was far in the distance, yet fast approaching.

[resume music]

**"Now is the time to feel the love of the gods!" **Scholar's voice echoed everywhere.

A giant, glowing white Lotus emerged from the swirling dark clouds. "I think that he's the one that found us," said Adam.

**"A deep love, a great love... A love powerful and formidable... a love that CRUSHES LIKE A GIANT METAL FOOT!"**

From the lotus emerged a giant foot of gold and bronze and brass that came down at Adam and Ramsus at lightning speed.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There was a crater, where the two annoyances had been. Scholar could barely feel their tiny crushed bodies through the metal skin of his sole, but he could feel them, and he decided to twist his ankle back and forth to make sure they were thoroughly smeared against the broken stone, mixed with the mortar chips of broken houses. He had won.<p>

**"Ha... I won. Ha... hahaha... I! WON! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!..."** Scholar's laughter subsided as he admired his titanic body. It was an idealized version of himself, hairless, covered in a skin of metal that gleamed in the moonlight. Judging by the fact that he was at eye level with Big Ben, he was at least 100 meters tall, maybe more. He should have felt dumber, his spirit spread thin in such an avatar... but it was true. In the Dark World, the body was the plaything of the spirit, not the other way around. Such a shame that such a form was impossible to realize in the Real World. Still... A step above the Jackal — Lightweight Biological Wanzers? There could be big money in that... the possibilities of the concept deserved some research.

He was just about to leave when he felt something push at the bottom of his foot.

"No. No... No no NO NO NO! IT CAN'T BE! YOU TWO COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE ALIVE!" Scholar put his entire weight into his foot, but still it rose, ever so slowly.

Reapers of various forms appeared, and headed towards the gathering light. They screeched, desperate to get away.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus tapped into his rage and insanity once more, holding his hands up high, feeling the burn in his body's many Element Zero nodes as he pushed up against the immense mass. Slowly, Scholar became easier and easier to lift.<p>

In front of him, taking a growing lion's share of the workload, was Adam, wreathed in shadows, golden flames and blue embers. Ramsus closed his eyes, and saw Adam as a vortex that absorbed all stray tongues of flames into itself. The epicentre of that vortex, that void... had once been filled with love, and happiness, and joy, and it had all been torn away from him, thrice, making the void even bigger.

Adam's burning eye went from gold to blue-green as it looked straight at Ramsus, and he seized the bloody blonde man by the collar and tossed him far, far away.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Thunder struck the crater from high in the sky, and Scholar felt a hand form around his foot and squeeze it tightly even as it pushed. Then the forearm formed, then the whole arm, the the body, then the skull. Scholar was soon on his back, and looming over him was a figure wreathed in smoky shadows, a titan as large as Scholar, armoured from head to toe in gleaming black metal, lined and inlaid with a gold bronze alloy. The two horns on its helmet, impossibly long, were curved at the base, but stood straight up at the sharp, pointy tips. A single blue-green light burned within the helm's eye-hole, and a low growl resounded from the beveled plate in front of the mouth. A dark knight, missing only a mighty steed and an oversized sword.<p>

Lightning crackled across the armour as it tossed Scholar right into Buckingham Palace. Scholar was helpless when Adam, in his own gigantic form, leapt up and brought both fists down on Scholar's bronze chest, causing him to sink further into the palace in a conflagration of stone chips.

Scholar kicked Adam in the belly, giving him enough room to get back up, and the two titans roared challenges as their fists met their faces.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus stared as two titans fought, their figures looming over the skyline, the impacts of their fists causing thunderclaps. How? That was the question that bothered Ramsus. How had Adam done this? Ramsus had barely figured out how to change the scenery, but there was Adam, transformed into a creature of the Dark as if he had been born there.<p>

Ramsus stared at his new hand, and squeezed it tightly. He could pin all his hopes on Adam, make him his champion, get Scholar out of the way once and for all.

_No. I will not simply stand by and watch. I will NOT become a spectator in the battle that is to decide our fate! But how?! How can I match this power?!_

The whispers of a young woman came, and Ramsus understood.

"Annah, so you have not abandoned me..."

An inferno emerged from the ground below him, and Ramsus became a glowing mist.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Scholar was losing this fight, badly. His skin was dented, and not mending. Why would it? It was metal, after all, and Scholar had no idea how nanomachines worked, so he could not simply will trillions of them into existence to fix himself.<p>

And Adam? Adam was relentless. No matter how hard he tried to psych him out, no matter how many times he punched him into submission, Adam rose again, with more fury and power than ever.

_Where?! Where is this power coming from?! I must know! I must have it! I must win this!_

He was being pushed back, and now the River Thames and that mess of buildings that served as a bridge was right behind him, and Big Ben was on his right.

That was when Ramsus, in the form of a gigantic white serpent with six feathered wings, bit him in the shoulder. Adam moved in for the kill, but as Scholar struggled with Ramsus' serpent form its tail went astray and smacked Adam in the face, knocking him away and flat on his back. Scholar managed to grab the serpent by one of itsantler-like, golden horns, and would have torn off its jaw if it hadn't been for Adam quickly recovering and delivering a blow to his kidneys.

They fought like this, back and forth, Adam and Ramsus too eager for the kill to really work together and make it happen. Scholar took advantage of this for as long as he could, suffering bite marks and punches. But, of course, Adam was relentless: He finally grabbed Scholar from behind and pulled his head back to expose his throat, so that Ramsus could tear into it with his teeth. Just as Ramsus moved in for the kill, Scholar executed a Judo throw that sent the shadowy knight straight into the shining serpent.

With both giants sprawled, stunned and tangled on the ground, Scholar took his chance: He pulled Big Ben from the ground up and brought it up over his head, wielding it like a pike. He poured all his frustration and anger — his very will — into the impromptu weapon and it glowed with light as he roared and brought it down, piercing Adam's armoured chest and Ramsus' snake body at once. They exploded into smoke and mist just as the chimes rang out, signaling their defeat.

Exhausted, Scholar leaned against Big Ben. He closed his eyes and took three deep breaths before he heard the sounds of boots impacting against stone. He opened his eyes:

Adam and Ramsus were running up Big Ben and headed straight for his head. In desperation he smashed the buildings with both of his fists, sending debris flying everywhere. Adam and Ramsus simply leapt from stone to stone before finally appearing before his very eyes. They glowed brightly with their own colors of Dark Energy, and then became black...

_London Bridge is falling down..._

Scholar could feel his awareness rush out of his titanic body and back into his chitinous one. He couldn't see anything, but he was aware of the pulsating flesh and blood that surrounded him just before he felt the impact of two glowing fists push him out of the back of his bronze body's skull in an explosion of gore.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>[Music: 3:20]<em>

Adam, Ramsus and Scholar formed a biotic projectile that went on a curved path that took it up in the sky and then straight down at the bridge. Ramsus roared in fury, just as they impacted against it, shattering on their way down to the Thames.

_falling down..._

Instead of splashing, the water became as glass, and shattered on their impact and became the epicentre of a million cracks that broke the entire city apart.

The three of them became unconscious for a moment, before finding themselves falling down amidst stones and buildings into an impossible deep ravine as gryphons flew over and under them.

"SCHOLAAAAAAAR!" screamed Ramsus as he willed himself towards the falling giant. Scholar, thinking fast, tossed a nearby stone at him, and Ramsus screamed in frustration as he was knocked away.  
><em>falling down...<em>

When the ravine vanished in favour of the clouds surrounding the Kalimantan Space Elevator, Scholar grabbed another stone and was about to throw it at Adam before he split off into 13 duplicates.

**"Oh****,****"** said Scholar, strangely calm as the duplicates surrounded him, plasma claws activated. "**Well that's not fair."**

One of the duplicates dashed forward, raking Scholar's back, then another, tearing at his chest. All 12 duplicates took their turn tearing at his flesh, until the final one was right in front of him, ready to deal the killing blow.

"BACK OFF!" screamed Ramsus as he biotically sent Jensen flying away. He shoved his HF sword deep in Scholar's chest, through the ruined plates, and shoved his new hand deep into the wound and grabbed the symbiont, intent on tearing it out.

As he did so, the world dissolved into dark clouds, and the clouds below dissipated to reveal the glowing cube with Annah inside of it.

_Take a key and lock her up..._

**"NOT SO FAST!"** Scholar seized Ramsus in a bear hug, preventing him from taking out the symbiont. Ramsus resisted with his Barrier, pushing against the crushing force. **"You want to see Annah so badly, BOY?! FINE! I'll take you there myself, and when I show your broken body in front of her, Annah will know that only I am worthy of being her Shaman!"**

_lock her up_

Ramsus struggled against Scholar's bear hug in vain. In a few minutes he would crash into the crystal cube, and Scholar would simply regenerate, just as he was doing right now.

**"You should have let Jensen finish me off himself!" **taunted Scholar. **"But noooo! The great Ramsus is too PRIDEFUL to let anyone else savour a kill!"**

Ramsus did not scream this time, or roar in fury. He simply closed his eyes, and focused his biotics into Scholar, increasing his mass signature tenfold. The pull of gravity intensified, and they fell faster and faster towards the cube.

"NO! Are you INSANE?!" Scholar punched at Ramsus' head, but Ramsus' Barrier held fast. Pushing him off was out of the question: his grip on the magatama was tight and unyielding. "STOP! YOU'LL KILL US BOTH!"

"I don't care."

**"YOU'LL KILL HER, TOO!"**

_lock her up..._

"I DON'T CARE! I WOULD RATHER SEE HER DEAD THAN BE YOUR SLAVE FOR ONE SECOND MORE!" Ramsus' biotics intensified, and the two men crashed into the cube's crystal wall, shattering it.

The cube's spin slowed and came to a stop, its lights flickered and died, and it slowly began to fall into the sea of dark amber fluid...

_My fair Lady..._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Adam woke up deep in the fluid sea, slowly sinking, his internal re-breather rapidly running out of precious oxygen. He swam up in a panic, fighting the weight of his own armour as it tried to drag him down further. He checked the power: 0.01 percent, in total.<em>

_He made it to the top of the ziggurat where __he__ promptly fell on all fours. He tore off his helmet, and__ promptly vomited__ some of the fluid that had made its way into his body through the visor. Once he stopped retching, all he could hear was the sound of crashing waves that soothed his troubled mind. He let himself roll onto his back. God, was he tired. Still, he found himself chuckling. "That was a dream, right? What just happened... London, the giant robot spider, the fall, everything..."_

_"...Yes__,__" said the young woman._

_Adam breathed a sigh of relief. "That's good. I..." Adam shot up immediately, the voice both familiar and alien to him. He was surrounded by a thousand identical young girls, numbers printed on their foreheads, their eyes slack and tired and dead. Standing over that horizon of pale gold hair was a slender young woman, her back turned to him._

_"And no..." she said, as she turned round. Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red. She wore a plastic form-fitting suit of dark grey, frosted tubes plugged into her neck, chest, and abdomen. The girls seemed to float away from her as she approached, and Adam felt a sense of dread the closer she got. He stood, and he caught sight of one of the girls pointing at Sasha, and another pointing directly at her forehead._

_Adam went for his gun immediately._

_"You..." her voice was soft, but there was a cacophony of snarls and eldritch words behind it. She pointed an accusatory finger at him. "You... __**ruined... eVeRytHIng..."**_

_"Annah Ramsus, I presume?" asked Adam. He already knew the answer._

_**"You... tHe pOweR waS nOt mEAnt foR you. The power was meant for him. Only HiM... Even now it escapes your fingers..."**_

_Adam looked down at his hand, and then his body. A glowing smoke was emanating from him, and as it did that strange sense of awareness of his own body and its limits was beginning to fade. Turning into a giant, dividing himself... the methods had been so obvious before, but now... not so much, escaping him like half-remembered dreams._

_The smoke rose up and turned to a million wisps that giggled and laughed, and Adam's heart lifted, though he did not quite understand why._

_Was he still dreaming?_

_"Stay back," he warned, as Annah approached._

_**"You... don't... deserve..."**__ her mouth was open, but did not move. Her voice was static. __**"...the POWER... that's been inflicted on you... CANNOT... complete me..."**_

_Adam__'s__ broken eye hurt, and he caught a flicker behind and above Annah: A dark figure, a twisted reflection of Aleph covered in gleaming black iron, his arms spread wide in joy and celebration. Annah approached, and began to scream an unearthly wail that built up a pressure inside Adam's head._

_He felt like it was about to explode._

_He pulled Sasha's hammer back and pulled the trigger. The __shot__ shattered Annah's forehead, and the nightmare, at last, collapsed._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam's eyes opened wide as he felt himself drowning. He grasped for his helmet seal and vomited the fluid that had made its way inside the breaches. Damned auto-repair had sealed the crap in.<p>

He was on all fours, retching, when he felt someone approach. He looked up to see the ghostly form of Aleph.

"Aw crap, am I still dreaming?"

"No," Aleph simply replied. "Are you alright?"

"I just puked a lungful of god knows what, and before that Scholar put me through the mother of all acid trips. No, I'm most certainly NOT alright..." He coughed up the last drops of fluid in his system, and got up. He checked his power cells: 0.005 percent.

"You're alive," said Aleph. "That's something, at least. And as for the hallucinations, well..." Aleph pointed at the distance on Adam's left. Staring out at nothing was the gold and bronze body that Scholar had tried to kill them with, slowly melting into salt as it slowly sank into the small sea of fluid. "'Hallucinating' in the Void can have consequences in the Real World, even in such a shallow a layer. What happened, happened. You experienced it, and so it might as well be real. I'm... impressed. Most people would have been too terrified to master their dream selves. But you're not like other people, are you?"

"So I've been told."  
>Aleph nodded. "And your friend impressed me as well. Look there." he pointed right, at the fallen crystal cube, half sunken not a meter away from the edge of the ziggurat's top. That part Adam didn't quite remember happening. Had Ramsus brought it down? The man sized hole near the top corner said 'Yes'.<p>

"Ramsus..." He checked Sasha, only to find her barrel smoking. He checked the chambers. The black bullet was spent. "Goddamnit!" he cursed. "What the hell?"

"You fired the bullet in the air when you had your nightmare."

"Great, just great. Now I've got nothing to defend myself with against the evil psionic goddess."

"You've done enough for now. She won't be a problem for the near future. But your companion... Go, he may need your help."

Aleph vanished, no longer able to keep himself conscious. Adam sighed and made his way inside the cube, his steps faltering as he felt the strain of 24 hours of non-stop stress, pain, combat, and pure insanity.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Clint Mansell - The Nursery (Moon OST) <strong>_

The inside of the cube was a mixture of cryogenic tubing and crystalline architecture — the likes of which anyone would see in any sci-fi vid involving impossibly advanced aliens. The crystal was engraved with circuitry, something Aleph would recognize as more of Gimmel's work if he hadn't been asleep. An incredibly elaborate, if primitive, moleculartronic computer system.

As Adam got deeper inside the very core of the broken Dream Machine, the tubing became more dense, and the halls more metallic and maze-like. He came across a trail of blood, and decided to follow it to the very center. On the way, he came across chambers within chambers, and mounted on every layered wall were thousands of Omar Cyberbrains. They were small, the size of children's heads, configured like a massive network server. Printed on the side of each shell of black metal and white plastic were serial numbers, all of which started with AC.

Adam reached out to one, and lightning arced between his fingers and the case. For a brief moment, he saw himself, reaching to himself as he sank deeper and deeper into an airvent. He recognized the moment, the perspective. It was that little blonde girl inside the airvent in the Peak 15 residential.

Something clicked inside Adam's head. AC. Annah Clone.

Adam looked at the thousands upon thousands of brains. White blood was no longer being pumped through them. They were all dead.

"You can't help me..."

Thousands of little girls, raised and harvested to become parts of a machine... were they at peace now, he wondered? Or did they curse him for not giving them a chance at a real life?

"I'm sorry..." Adam muttered, and moved on.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The core room's floor was made of cryogenic tubes, while its walls were made of moleculartronic crystal. Once, the place had shone with a yellow, heavenly light, but now the only illumination was a faint blue glow that came from emergency lights. A single sphere, not unlike the one Ramsus had been trapped in, was the center piece of the room. It was wide open, and empty.<p>

Scholar's corpse lay at the end of the blood trail. Judging by the broken abdomen, the bloody codpiece, and the shattered face, it was obvious how he had died: Ramsus had broken Scholar in half and repeatedly smashed his face against his pointy codpiece. A brutal way to die, but Scholar had deserved it.

Discarded was the crushed symbiote.

And Ramsus? He was sitting in a corner, pinned to the wall, a black steel polearm — a Glaive — sticking out of his belly. Beside him was a cube of glass, with a white flower with five petals encased inside of it.

Adam sighed, and shook his head. Nothing to do now but take his corpse back to the Durendal.

_Maybe Hein can glean something from his body. Hell, I don't know._

Behind him, Adam heard Scholar laugh. Adam whirled around, expecting a fight, but no... Scholar was still a broken wreck on the floor. His veins and eyes, however, still glowed and flickered. "Does this feel..." he coughed, "...like a victory to you, Adam? All this energy spent, all this blood, and violence... and it turns out your princess is in another castle. Oh ho ho! You must be pissed..."

Adam approached him and loomed over him. "Where. is. she?"

"Somewhere safe, somewhere far enough to be safe from HIM," Scholar spat at Ramsus' direction. "What? Did you really think I was going to challenge you both to a fight with the prize just within reach, a reward upon my defeat? Please..." he chuckled. "I'm not some video game endboss — I can THINK, and I've just outsmarted you both. Twice, in Ramsus' case, heheheheh..."

"Chuckle all you want," Adam growled. "You're not long for this world."

"You think so, Adam? Oh Adam, Adam, Adam... death is for the _poor_. Rich men, men of means — like ME — get to live on and on... I think... yes, I think I'm going to rededicate my many, many resources into making your life hell, Adam. Yes..." Scholar took a deep breath, and said: "Releasing... Control..."

The glow in the eyes was gone, and Scholar's avatar had a sudden look of confusion and fright before it breathed its last breath and its eyes went slack.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the nerve center of a vessel, deep inside its dark, gloomy interiors made of black steel and machinery, with a crew of pale men in black bio-mechanical robes that circulated throughout its vastness with a system of chairs on rails, Scholar unplugged the fanged tendrils from his withered, bald head. Dying inside his Avatar had been unpleasant, and there was that nagging feeling that he had left something behind with it... No matter, the ship's engines were ready to go, its immense Element Zero core re-purposed from Dark Energy emission to travel.<p>

"MISTER RUGER!" He roared out.

"Sir?" said a bald Ken Ruger, as his chair moved into place besides Scholar.

"Take us out of here! The Europeans have defeated Saren's pet and the Upper Dosadi amplifier has been... compromised. I'm cutting our losses. This ship must not be taken!"

"As you command," replied Ken, and he relayed the orders to the rest of the bridge crew. "Engines at maximum!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam felt the entirety of Upper Dosadi shake. The rumbling made the black glaive turn to salt, and Ramsus gasped, his eyes widening. "Ah...Adam...?"<p>

"Ramsus, oh, Jesus Christ! Hold on!" Adam rushed besides him and knelt, checking the damage. Besides the obvious, he was now losing a lot of blood. Without any Medi-Gel, all Adam do was plug the holes with Omni-Gel and hope he could get him some real medical care ASAP.

He checked his Codec... not enough juice for a signal. _Damn._

"Annah..." Ramsus choked out through clattering, bloody teeth. He was freezing... "She..." Ramsus did something Adam had never expected: He cried, cried like a little boy. Behind the fury, and the violence, and the bloodlust, that was all Ramsus was:

A boy, who wanted his family back.

"What happened?!" asked Adam, desperate. "Who did this to you?!"

Ramsus' bloody face contorted in a grimace of frustration, rage, and sorrow. "Elizabeth!" he spat the name out like a curse. "That BITCH had one of her creatures lie in wait for me in that very chamber... 20 years! I was..." Ramsus was speaking through desperate, quickened breaths. "...I was so happy, so... "

"So you were caught by surprise..."

"...Yes. I... What's that rumbling? What's going on?"

"I don't know..."

"I... I can feel her... I can feel her growing more distant... Adam? It's getting dark." He choked back blood. "A-are you there?"

"Yeah..." Adam reassured Ramsus. "I'm here."

"Good..." He picked up the flower. "It's... her birthday today, Adam, I promised... It's her favourite, you see?"

"...I understand."

The tears mixed with blood to the point Adam could no longer tell one liquid from the other. "Will you..." he coughed. "Please? Will you bring it to her?"

Adam hesitated. He had no idea if he had the means of finding her, or even if she deserved to be saved. "I..."

"Please...!" he cried, "Promise me!"

"Ramsus, I don't think Annah—"

Ramsus gasped, and dropped the glass cube.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>As the cube slowly descended, Ramsus caught sight of two figures behind Adam. They were two out of the three women that had ever mattered to him.<em>

_One was a tall pale woman with raven hair, clad in red armour. Her eyes we blue, so very blue. _

_The __other had__ pale gold hair, and was slighter of build, but no less fierce. She was clad only in a blood__-__splattered dress held together by black bands of silk, and a half cloak lined with black fur. Her eyes were a shade of pink..._

_Junko. Mother._

_The two figures merged and approached him, and caressed his face... and he let himself go to sleep._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam caught the glass container before it could hit the ground, and looked back at Ramsus' face.<p>

It was too late to promise anything. All he could do was close the young man's eyes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam stepped outside, atop the cube. Sunlight was streaming from above from a triangular hole, where the ceiling had been. He thought back to the puzzle room with the maquettes: that scaled down Upper Dosadi piece had required one last piece at the top, another pyramid.<p>

And the scaled up version of that piece was now flying away, with both Scholar and Annah inside of it, no doubt.

Adam checked his Codec again. No signal. No one would be coming out of nowhere to fix everything. Beneath him there were nothing but dead children. Above him evil people were making a clean getaway, their crimes unpunished.

Adam sat down, and stared at the flower Ramsus had given him in his left hand. Then, he cradled his face with the other, and laughed bitterly. He had tasted the power of a demi-god earlier, and now here he was, impotent to stop a single corporate fat cat with delusions of godhood from putting his insane ideas to work somewhere else.

All the fighting, all the deaths, all the pain everyone had gone through...

It was all for _nothing._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>Author's notes: And so ends the most bloated story arc in this fic... And good riddance. It's a huge mess of references and I hate it. It'll be good to move on to another planet. But first, I'll take a break, draw some art, write an epilogue, an interlude, and then it's back to the Citadel! Spectrehood and politics await!<strong>

**-What's that? What happened to the Hashmal Lephantis? It's gonna be a Missed Moment of Awesome for now. Spoiler alert: Garrus, Grey, Elsa and Hannibal killed it. And killed it awesomely. As a matter of fact, I've left a bit cut content behind. Originally, I planned on Ramsus to tap deeply into himself and try to stop Scholar's ship from escaping, but I left that out, since I was already risking ending fatigue.  
><strong>

**-Before you ask, no, I did not suddenly discover a passion for yoga. As a matter of fact, the Illuminati practicing yoga is apparently canon. From the Deus Ex wiki:**

_"In order to progress to higher degrees of illuminism, members are obligated to practice Haratha Yoga exercises in the morning. According to Stanton Dowd, the Illuminati's only real secret is a technique of meditation - "a way of imaging your body dissolving into light." At the top of the Illuminati leadership is the "Supreme Enlightened - a title which has been held by Lucius DeBeers for most of the 20th Century._

_During Bob Page's restructuring of former Illuminati elements into MJ-12, he replaced the pseudo-religious "degrees of illuminism" hierarchy with "secular" security clearances - each of which is named after angels. According to Stanton Dowd, Page never progressed beyond 'Master of Tyre' due to consistently sleeping during morning yoga exercises. Curiously 'Master of Tyre' is also the name of one of the real world Allied Masonic Degrees. "_

**So, yoga and Angels. For all his talk of rebelling from the Illuminati, Scholar's knee-deep in their imagery and beliefs.**

**-Alley and Allie is, as you might recall from way back in the Citadel arc, a nickname by US Marines given to Alliance marines. 'Allie' is of course short for Alliance.**

**-Wanzer Chaff grenades are an actual thing in the first Front Mission. Using one guarantees that the next enemy Missile attack will miss.**

**-Theodore's rods is a double reference to the nanite detonator in the intro to Deus Ex 2 and the summoning tubes used by the main character of Devil Summoner: Kuzunoha Raidou.**

**-Numbers! You may notice that 12 shows up a lot when the Illuminati are concerned. Jensen and his duplicates numbered 24 in total: this is a reference to the knights of the round table: the Winchester Round Table seated 24, King Arthur included. When he duplicated himself 13 times, that was a Final Fantasy reference. You know the one :p**

* * *

><p>And now, for the translated French:<p>

_"You're not coming with us?" asked David, his big brown eyes pleading as he gripped his mother's hand a bit more tightly. He was smart, but he was still too young to understand what was happening all around him._

_"I can't," said Damien._

_"Please, Damien" pleaded Mélanie, her breathing ragged and urging. She had just taken her medicine, but she was out of doses. Her skin was already getting clammy and pale. "Come with us! The Geth are everywhere! And they'll..."_

_"They'll what?" asked David, growing scared._

_Damien knelt beside his little brother, and put a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "They will not pass. I'm going to stay here to give you time to escape the Geth, but—"_

_"What's a Geth?"_

_Damien sighed. "They're bad guys, and you know what I do to bad guys?"_

_David smiled, feeling a little reassured. "You stop them."_

_"That's right, and once I'm done stopping them, I will rejoin you, as always. I promise you, the bad guys won't get through."_

_He hurried Mélanie through the hole, and lowered David with his hip-mounted wires, to his mother's waiting arms._

_"Damien..." pleaded Mélanie once more. _

_**"Officer..." **reminded the Wanzer pilot, the woman's voice booming through her riot speakers. Damien stared down at the hole, into his family's pleading eyes. **"You can join them. I won't stop you," **she said, her tone full of understanding._


	47. Chapter 42: Noveria — Aftermath

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

**Chapter 42**: Noveria - Aftermath

Spellcheck by WarpObscura

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Normandy - Captain's cabin<strong>_

_"Disappeared?"_ asked Admiral Hackett. His face on the screen was slightly distorted by static.

Anderson had been dreading this conversation. There had been a lot of strange things he had had to word carefully in his report — he had called the creature killed by Devereaux and the Turian mercenary, for example, a 'Bio-engineered living weapon'— in an effort to appear not completely insane. Thankfully, Hackett was far more concerned by the fact that Johann Ramsus, the Alliance candidate to become the first human Spectre, seemed to have completely vanished from the face of the planet.

"Yes, sir," replied Anderson. "Disappeared. I've got men looking for him all over Dosadi, but the city is a mess."

_"So let me get this straight..."_ Hackett pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. _"Lawson and Corvin had gone rogue, the former is MIA and the latter KIA. Ramsus — who is responsible for Corvin's death — calls you in for help to accomplish his so-called mission, which involved you taking advantage of a Geth invasion to try and steal something from Europa Genomics — which is, right now, responsible for well over sixty percent of our gene modded soldiers —"_

"We also killed our share of Geth ships and Infantry," Anderson insisted, hoping to get Hackett to focus on the bright side. The Alliance had done its part to repel one of the greatest offensives Saren had thrown against humanity yet. It was a stroke of luck that the Acheron and its battalion of marines had been there, otherwise Wreav and his troops would have slaughtered everyone.

Hackett didn't seem all that impressed as he continued summing up the contents of the report. _"...and in response to that, EG unleashes its mutant attack dogs to attack you and the European marines just as Ramsus makes his way up to EG headquarters, at which point you come under attack by a really big feathered lion — nice suit-cam footage, by the by — and finally, Scholar escapes in a giant escape pod, so it's most likely Ramsus failed in his attempt, and now he's nowhere to be found. That about sums it up?"_

Anderson nodded.

_"Goddamnit."_

"Sir, I strongly suspect Johnathan Scholar may have kidnapped him. His was the only ship that we couldn't account for."

_"Hm. Makes sense, i suppose. What about Hein's robot, and the Turian Merc?"_

"What about them?"

_"They were up there with Ramsus! They ought to have seen something that might tell us where he is!"_

"The Turian and the woman he was with vanished. I don't know where they are. As far as the robot goes, Hein told me that the only thing in its memory core is static."

_"...Huh. Convenient."_

Anderson shook his head. "I know. But he's with DARPA."

_"Don't... worry too much about that. I can pull some strings, and I'll have that robot in our hands soon enough. Still, until then..." _Hackett sighed_. "We don't have a Spectre."_

"...There has to be someone else that can fill the role?"

_"... We do. He's not Shepard — he's a pure soldier, not capable of the dark energy fuckery Shepard and Ramsus were capable of, but he's quite exceptional in his field. Still, that's two candidates we've put forward that didn't make it. The Council is going to laugh at us, and then we've got the rest of Earth suddenly hungry to put their own champions forward...They might look to them to provide the first human Spectre."_

"Would it be so terrible to have a Spectre from the EU or the US?"

_"You and I know just as well that would tip the scales too far in the wrong direction. It **has** to be one of ours, Anderson. If any of Earth's nations can curry favour with any of the major alien states, the cold war will go hot."_

"Then I hope your man's better than Devereaux. I've seen her in a Wanzer — she's deadly."

_"Not so much out of it," _said Hackett dismissively. _"Let's change the subject: what have your men found in Scholar's private pyramid, besides the mountains of salty bio-residue?"_

"Quite a few non-functional artifacts, artwork and a great deal of documentation on earth and alien spiritual philosophy. A collection of cybernetically-modified clones, A few million litres of fluid which my doctor suspects is made from melted humans..."

_"Jesus Christ..."_

"And a giant box made out of billions of credits worth of artificial crystal, with thousands of cloned brains inside. None of us understands what the hell he was trying to accomplish, but it couldn't have been good."

_"And the Europeans? They saw that stuff too?"_

"They were first on the scene, and they're picking at whatever Scholar didn't destroy on his way out as we speak."

_"Damn." _Hackett sighed. _"There's going to be consequences for this. Most of our marines enjoy the benefits of an EG package, especially our N7s. We need to have them re-examined, and our ties with EG severed. It's good news for MarsGene, lots of new business for them..."_ Hackett frowned and shook his head. _"...But their mods aren't quite as good."_

"I've got the MarsGene Eta-2 package. Served me pretty well so far."

_"So do I. Still, EG gave us some good tech, and helped us widen our talent pool considerably." _Hackett paused a moment, considering what he had been told. "_Thank you, Anderson, that's all for now. Right now your orders are to stay put until the _Bandung_ arrives in two hours to relieve you. When she arrives you're headed full speed for the Citadel. Our new Spectre will need a ride, and the Normandy's our best."_

"She'll need some patching up."

_"She'll get it. Our dock at the Citadel has got a hundred techs ready to fix her up good as new. You've still got three days and a half to make it there... though really, we expect the Council to take a week to decide."_

"We'll only need two." Before he let Hackett cut the connection, Anderson decided it was time to bring up something that had been on the back of his mind for a while."Admiral? I have a request."

_"Name it."_

"I've lost a few men in the past two weeks — good people — and I would like to give them a proper send off."

_"Burial at sea, huh?"_ Hackett gave it some thought. _"Request granted. Give your fallen their due... especially Shepard."_

"I intend to. Thank you."

The Admiral nodded. _"Hackett out."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>Lower Dosadi - Medical Tent<strong>

Elsa walked into a tent filled with just as much misery and pain as it was with rest and relief.

Camps like this, which had popped up all over the lower part of the arcology to make up for the small number of clinics and medical facilities, were filled with volunteers willing to lend a pair of hands — SSC guards with first-aid training, Order nuns — but few real doctors. Nazir himself had come down to Dosadi to help out, once he was certain all of the wounded crew-members and pilots had been taken care of.

Elsa thought there was a certain irony in the fact that a haven for biotech research had so few doctors around. Then again, they had all probably lived in Middle Dosadi, and died in the initial attack.

_Or maybe they escaped in Scholar's flying pyramid_, thought Elsa.

She stopped a nurse that didn't seem too busy, and described the man she was looking for. After ten minutes of searching, they found him. Elsa sat down next to his bed, a can of cold beer in hand.

"Lees?"

Lees' eyes fluttered open. His expression was dazed for a moment before it turned to a look of recognition. "...I know that voice." His eyes focused on Elsa and he smiled. "Ah, yeah, just as I pictured you. Made up like a French harlot."

Elsa snickered. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

"And you brought me a drink, too." Elsa handed him the can, and he examined it. "Favourite brand... well, in answer to your question, the meds they got circulating in me gave me a nice little buzz. Problem is, they don't mix with alcohol."

"Give it back to me, then," said Elsa, smiling. "I'll drink it in your honour."

"Hell no!" He tucked the can under his pillow. "I'm saving it for later. So, since everyone here is more or less still alive, I take it the Geth are gone?"

Elsa nodded. "They retreated from their last holdout, but our fighters hunted them down. None of them escaped."

"Good to hear. And the Krogan?"

"Most of them are dead. We took Wreav prisoner." And that was all Elsa was going to say about it. The Salarian had taken custody of Wreav. How he had managed that, Elsa had no idea. Soon Wreav would be getting prodded and probed by a hundred doctors on the Salarian homeworld — whatever it was called — until they killed him and dissected him.

Of course, she couldn't mention all of this. Loose lips sink ships, as the Americans like to say.

"That's good to know," said Lees. "Far better outcome than I dared hope we could manage. Most of the folks in the SSC..." he winced. "Well, you saw for yourself."

"That young man with the Urban Maneuvering Gear was very capable. And I think you killed more Geth Wanzers than I did."

"And I hear you downed a Zhuk." He chuckled. "I think that even things out."

Elsa shrugged. "_Bof..._ I had help."

"From the, uh, 'Dark Knight'?"

That took Elsa aback a little. "Excuse me?"

"Some of my fellows here in this tent were talking about him. Or her. There's some confusion on that part. I faintly recall a dark blur with a robot voice, however. Talbot, over there..." Lees nodded at a man sitting up on his bed, playing cards with a fellow SSC contractor. "Swore he saw the Dark Knight personally take down a squad of Geth Wanzers on foot while his robot dog took care of the ground troops. Shit like that gets soldiers talking."

"Well," said Elsa, "As a matter of fact, yes, it is a robot, and it did help us take out the Zhuk."

"Well, thanks for setting the record straight... Hey, is something bothering you?"

Elsa sighed and sank into her chair. "I'm getting fired."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Med-Sci<strong>_

Adam sat up on the bed, feeling his face — his real face, not the bio-engineered mask — aftergetting examined by Dr. Ross. According to her, his Sentinel implants had already finished repairing most of the internal trauma. As for the damaged eye, Tali would be taking care of it tomorrow.

"We're all very tired," she said, handing him a black eye patch.

"You seem especially tired," Adam said, as he put it on to cover his empty eye-socket.

"Oh, you have no idea. I had to coordinate with the Acheron by my lonesome while Hein was sitting in their brig, and in the middle of that I had to deal with a Krogan miscarriage..."

"Miscarriage?"

"...You mean you don't know she was pregnant? Oh dear..."

"Bakara..."

"Yes, her." Aki sighed wearily. "I...I did the best that I could under the circumstances, but there's so much about Krogan female physiology I don't understand. When I tried an emergency C-Section I had to make repeated cuts to beat her regeneration..."

Adam felt his mood become dark, then he shook his head, suddenly remembering something. "Wait a minute, Krogan are oviparian!"

"They are? But... Jensen, that makes no sense, Bakara has a fully functional uterus — trust me, I was elbow deep in it!"

"Ah, hell... I need to talk to her. Is she in her cell?"

"No, she's at the morgue with the Krogan mercenary, mourning... honestly, Adam I think that whatever you have to say to her, it can wait until tomorrow."

"...Fine. While we're on the subject, how are the children we rescued from Peak 15?"

"I examined them... save for those strange mutations they're quite healthy. Brea is examining them now, though."

"...Is she armed?"

Aki became a bit confused. "No, why?"

"Nevermind," he said, shaking his head, before covering a long yawn with his fist.

"And _you_ should probably go to sleep. You've had a rough couple of days."

"Yeah, I could really use some shut-eye."

"Want a trip in the Dream Catcher?"

After all that had happened, Adam wanted nothing to do with any machine that could alter his brain functions, especially not after Scholar had tried to rape his mind with the same technology.

"I'd rather just head to my bunk."

"As you wish..." Aki stopped Adam just as he was about to leave. "Actually, since you're headed for the Crew deck, can you go and check on Manah for me?

"Sure but... what happened to her?"

"I... I honestly don't know. She started screaming all of a sudden when the battle against the Geth hit its stride. I had the robots give her a powerful sedative and take her to her bunk."

"...Don't you have a monitoring sensor set up for her?"

"I do, but..." Aki cracked a smile, "She's anxious to see her again ever since you left for Noveria."

"Why?"

Aki rolled her eyes. "I honestly, positively have no clue, Adam. Just go see her before you go to bed, hm?"

"Fine, fine..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Crew Deck<strong>_

Adam had expected to find Garrus and the Deep Eyes in the Mess Hall, only to be told by Lelia that they had congregated in the newly opened portside observation deck, which had been turned into a little lounge. Adam shrugged, and thought maybe he would join them later for a drink. Garrus was no doubt regaling everyone with his recount of how he felled that great beast that had attacked everyone on the suspended city.

Adam had done his best to avoid Manah ever since they had come back from Caleston, though she always seemed to find her way across the large ship to find him. How did one speak on friendly terms with a young woman whose mother one had just killed? Adam didn't know the answer to that question, and hoped time would make things less awkward.

_Hi, sorry for killing your mother. _Adam sighed. No, time would not make that phrase any less awkward.

The door to Manah's door was ajar, and through that crack Adam could hear the pained moans of a distraught sleeper. He entered her quarters, and found papers and holograms littered on the floor and her desk. At a glance, Adam knew that Manah was trying to piece together the location of an Earth Grimoire — Zayin's collection of philosophies — but was getting a bit mixed up with an Ice Grimoire — Zayin and Beth's collaboration together. Images flashed in his mind's eye as the two names echoed in his head.

_A mighty titan in metal skin, the ground cracked and shattered beneath him. _

_A regal woman covered in a jeweled shell, dressed in elaborate dress and flowing scarves, water flowing all around her. _

_Zayin. Beth. Those were their names._

_Damn it all to hell,_ thought Adam. _More information,_ _more names don't mean anything to me. I need to get Aleph out of my head, and soon._

Manah was in her bed, laying on her side, nearly fetal. She hugged her pillow tightly, and would have torn it in half if she was a just a bit stronger. Her teeth, though, were tearing at the fabric quite easily.

Adam pulled up a metal stool and sat besides her, and for a reason that he could not quite understand, rested his hand on the side of her head. There was a brief glow as his eezo nodes flared, conspiring with the EM emitters of his Glass Shield to create a soothing field of gold and green light.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Pyramid - Control Chamber<strong>_

Scholar's eyes widened as he gasped, and he felt a missing piece of himself come to life, calling to him through an echo far, far away...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah's eyes fluttered open, and seemed glazed as they adjusted to the dim yellow light of her desk lamp. She smiled, realizing who her visitor was. She wanted to jump up from her bed and hold him in her arms, but alas... the drugs in her system made it hard for her to move.<p>

"It's you," she said softly.

"I'm sorry," said Adam, as he withdrew his hand. "I didn't mean to wake you, but you were having a bad dream."

"Yes... but it's over now. What... What happened to your eye?"

"It's, ah..." Adam hesitated, as he rubbed the eyepatch. "I got it damaged in a fight. Tali's going fix it."

"A fight?... are you hurt? Should you not be seeing the doctor?"

"I just came back from the medbay, and I'll get my rest eventually, don't worry. Still, Aki told me she had to give you a sedative. Why? What happened?"

Manah looked away, her expression uncertain. Adam wondered if the Geis was stopping her, but then she spoke again. "I heard... I was hearing voices."

"...Voices?" Adam asked hesitantly, as a warning bell started ringing in his mind. With the odd revelations from the past few days, 'hearing voices' couldn't be a good sign.

"...Hundreds of them. Then Thousands. Then Millions... cries of joy, cries of blood, cries of pain and cries of torment, all at once... I was scared, and confused. I begged Dr. Ross to shut the voices away, and she had one of the medical robots put me to sleep."

"It didn't help, did it?"

"...At first it did. All was soothing blackness, before the dream started..."

"And what did you see in the dream?"

"...A human, lanky, with pale gold hair and paler skin. His heart was a white serpent with six regal wings, and it was filled with a love brighter than the sun and a malice blacker than the space between stars..."

_Ramsus_, Adam realized. She's talking about Ramsus.

"...He was exhilarating, and terrifying all at once," Manah continued.

"He's gone. He can't hurt you anymore."

"...I'm not so sure, I can still... I can still feel him on the edge of my consciousness..." Her eyes narrowed at Adam, and she became worried. "Are _you_ alright? Is something causing you disquiet?"

"It's nothing."

"But it is not, I can tell. Please, tell me what troubles you?"

Despite himself, Adam found himself answering her. "I just fought a battle for nothing." And he gave her his account of the battle of Noveria, and all that preceded it.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>Lower Dosadi - Medical Tent<strong>

"...Fired?" Lees was incredulous. "But..."

"I hijacked a Wanzer to come to your rescue. Let's just say my captain had different plans for it, and that he's not happy."

"Well, you can tell your captain he can go fuck himself. I'm glad you did it. Me, Carver, Raffaelli, the civvies... you saved us."

A nearby Order priest recited prayers over someone. Nurses were covering the body with a white sheet, while a man cried.

"I couldn't save that one," she said, as she took a cigarette out and tried in vain to light it, but the lighter's tank was running out of fuel. She tried shaking it, and tapping the side of it, but no flame would come out, only sparks.

"Well, maybe, but..."

Elsa didn't let him finish. "I saved a handful of lives. While I was busy doing that, the Geth and Krogan were slaughtering people by the thousands. In the end, what difference did I make, before the rest of the army came along?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What difference did I make, in the end?" said Adam, looking down at his hands. "I saved a handful of people, yes, and made sure a handful of really, really bad people will never hurt anyone ever again, yes... but <em>they<em> can just make more of them. More Scholars. More Mey Lengs. I'm beginning to wonder if it would be best if I did nothing at all. Let them do their experiments, let them take control."

Adam thought back to the thousands of children's brain destroyed because he had allowed himself to be dragged into Ramsus' personal vendetta — all dead, because he simply couldn't stop himself. "At least then the casualties would be smaller."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I should have just done what I was told," said Elsa, defeated, tossing away her unlit cigarette. "Would have been more effective if I was working as part of the unit. I should have convinced my captain, tried to get him to see reason. I could have saved more lives."<p>

"Hmph. The calculus of war, eh?" spat Lees, now feeling like the surly old man that he was. "You're saying that maybe if you left me, my men, and the people under my protection to die you could have saved more civilians?"

Elsa realized how horrible that sounded. "That's not—"

"—Maybe. Maybe you could have. Hell, if I had been given a choice I'd have told you to abandon us and go on and save the entire damned planet. But there's more to saving lives than just math. Your Dark Knight? If he hadn't saved Talbot's squad they couldn't have saved the garrison at Sector 42. That was a handful of lives saved that went on to save others. And you? Amidst the 32 lives you saved, one of them was a doctor. He's the one that saved me from Carver's, ah, 'first aid'..." Lees made finger quotes, for emphasis. "...and many others more in this tent alone."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"And what of those that you did save?" asked Manah.<p>

"A handful, compared to the lost." said Adam. "It's not enough. It's just not enough to excuse—"

"—It is more than you think. When the Red Dragon came for me I had given up all hope... I goaded him to kill me, and he indulged me... I was so tired. I would have been a slave to the Templars, a slave to Saren, or a slave to the Justicars... and so many lives lost all around me..." Manah sniffed, and wiped away a tear. "What was the point of going on?" Manah closed her eyes, clearly remembering that fiery night with perfect clarity through the fog of drugs in her system. "And then, out of nowhere... _you_ came along. You rode a thunderbolt and emerged from a blast like a legend come to life, and you gave me back something..."

When she didn't specify, Adam pressed on. "What did I give you back?"

"...Hope." Manah breathed out. " And that same hope is echoed in the lives you saved on Dosadi... the children, the soldiers... everyone. I just know it. After all, something legendary came and helped them in their darkest hour."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"The world has more than enough soldiers ready to kill," said Lees, feeling older and wearier with every word uttered. "Young boys and girls... with something to prove, or looking for a paycheque, or psychopaths looking for a legal way to kill people. In the end they all become obedient tools, and when their leaders make mistakes, or are corrupt to the core... the only thing that can stop a tragedy are heroes."<p>

"I'm no hero," said Elsa. "I just signed up for the thrills."

"Yes, you are. Because heroes know best when to disobey. Don't let them fire you. Take all the power that they give you and use it, and save those that you can, for every single one is worth a world entire."

"Hmph... saving the world. Is it a world worth saving, I wonder?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Of course it is!" pleaded Manah weakly. "How can you... How can you even say such a thing?"<p>

"Because I've seen too much of it. And I've seen so much apathy in reaction to such naked cruelty." Adam recalled the incident with the clone and her maids, psychically hijacked by Annah. He wondered if she had done it to demonstrate a point.

Manah reached out, and wrapped her slender hands around Jensen's. "You feel as though you don't belong here," she said softly, as she squeezed the black plastic more tightly. "I know better than anyone how you feel. But you're wrong... The world needs someone like you, now more than ever. I believe this... with all my heart... I believe..."

Manah closed her eyes, and fell asleep. Adam pulled himself away from her grasp feeling awkward and silly for opening up to her like that. He put her affairs in order, feeling the influence of Aleph all the while, and turned off the desk lamp.

As he turned to leave, Manah muttered in her sleep. "You shouldn't go... don't leave us..."

Adam closed the door behind him, without a word, leaving Manah to sleep a dreamless sleep... though it would not be long before the white serpent came to visit her again...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Sometimes I find myself wondering the same thing," said Lees. "Like I always say, world's full of assholes. But most of us out there are just living, trying to find that lasting spark of happiness before we inevitably die. Are you going to leave them to that cruel bitch called fate? Deny them hope?"<p>

Elsa hesitated at the question, then she chuckled. "Well, now that you put it that way, how could I say yes without feeling like a horrible bitch?"

"Heh."

Elsa's Omni-Tool rang, alerting her of an incoming message. It was brief, and to the point. "It's my captain. I suppose he wants to hand me my dishonourable discharge personally."

As she got up to leave, Lees spoke again. "Hey, if it doesn't work out with the military, the SSC is definitely hiring." He smiled. "Our Wanzers are crap, but at least the pay's good."

Elsa turned and shrugged. "I'll think about it."

Lees nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to take a nap..."

As Elsa began to make her way out of the tent, a little boy, followed closely by his father, bumped into Elsa and made his way past her without a word.

"I'm sorry," said the father, embarrassed.

"No, no... it's alright," she replied.

"Grandpa!" cried the boy.

Lees shot up a bit and promptly put the sheet over his head. "Can't an old man get some sleep?"

The boy quickly ran up to Lees, who pulled his grandson into a tight hug. Elsa didn't stick around to bear witness to their happy reunion, as she had a meeting with Ségal to go to. Still, she found herself looking back, feeling a bit glad for the man, and more than a bit jealous.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>VSE Acheron - Bridge<strong>_

"...Pardon?" said Elsa after a beat.

"You heard me," said Ségal, looming over the holographic table, paying more attention to the patrols than Elsa. "You and the Silver Drakes will be travelling to the Citadel immediately."

"On what ship?" asked Elsa. "The Acheron's a bit too slow to make it in time."

"Mine," said Bau, standing on Ségal's right. "The Mistral is awaiting you and your men in the landing bay."

"The engineers will mount a long range pod on your Astraea, so that she can fly escort. Also, everything in your quarters has been boxed and sent to the _Mistral_." added Ségal. "Is there a problem?"

"Hm? No," replied Elsa. "I mean, I expected a court-martial." The gears inside Elsa's mind creaked and turned, and she figured out why she wasn't in the brig. "...Wreav." She eyed the Salarian Spectre. "You wanted him, and you worked something out to get him."

"Very astute," replied Bau. "Your government still wants its Spectre, and in exchange for my recommendation Captain Ségal has given me custody of Wreav."

Elsa was not exactly pleased at the development. "Go ahead and say it, Ségal just bought me my Spectrehood."

"Not quite. The others have yet to be evaluated, but your odds of success will be far better... I thought you would be pleased."

Ségal chuckled. "I think you wounded her pride."

"I see... Well, to be entirely honest, after seeing you in action, I can honestly say that you are quite eligible for the job. You have much to contribute to the Spectres: our ranks have yet to include an elite Wanzer pilot, something I suspect we'll need in the coming years. You'll be quite the welcome addition."

Elsa's eyebrow raised in suspicion. "Ah, _vraiment_? So if, say, we were to reclaim Wreav and give him up to the WTO then..."

"Then I will declare you unfit to be a Spectre," replied Bau quite bluntly.

"So you're perfectly willing to withhold something I've earned just to get what you want."

"Yes. I'm glad you understand."

"Oh, I understand something, alright."

Ségal intervened before Elsa got into an argument. "_Assez_. This arrangement benefits everyone. You, me, the aliens, and especially Europe." With an accent on that last part, and a meaningful glance, Ségal wordlessly reminded Elsa of the importance of her becoming a Spectre.

Elsa huffed, and shifted the subject. "And the Acheron?"

"We will be staying here to provide protection and a groundside peacekeeping force until negotiations with the Union and the WTO are over."

"Negotiations? For what?"

"Purchasing Dosadi."

Elsa's eyes widened in shock. "...Are you telling me we just _conquered_ the planet?"

"I wouldn't put it that way, but yes. Why do you think the government is still impressed with you? Yours were the first Union boots on the ground... militarily speaking, of course."

"The Americans..."

"...are with DARPA, and were not there with the full power and authority of the UNAS to back them up. You were... hijacking one of my Wanzers notwithstanding."

"And the Council will have gained a small foothold in this part of the Traverse," added Bau, approvingly.

"And the Terminus?" asked Elsa. "Aren't you worried they'll see that as some kind of prelude to war?"

"The truth of the matter is that the Terminus is far too tangled up with its own wars to react this violently to an emergent colony. Right now the conflict between Vaygr tribes and the Turanic Kingdoms have reached a boiling point, and many of the Terminus systems have been dragged into it. As long as Europe does not turn Dosadi into a shipyard or a fortress, then they will only need to worry about an occasional pirate attack."

"Or a Geth Fleet," quipped Elsa.

Bau nodded, conceding the point. "Any more questions?"

"Got room on the Mistral for a Wanzer?"

"I'm afraid not. Its cargo hold is barely large enough for one Wanzer, even disassembled, and its full of fish at the moment."

"The _Surprise_ is on its way to the Citadel as we speak," added Ségal. "It is carrying 4 Wanzers up to Silver Drake specs to replace those you lost to EG's creature. You won't be lacking on the hardware front. Or on the personnel front: Nazir will also be coming with you."

"Well then," said Elsa. "I suppose you have all the angles covered. Time to get my shit and leave."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Med Sci - Special Projects<strong>_

Unable to sleep, Adam decided to visit Hannibal in Special Projects section of the ship. The mech had suffered some very severe damage during its fight against the giant beast that had emerged from Wreav's weapon, though fortunately, his processing core had survived.

As Adam approached the workbench upon which sat what remained of Hannibal's body, he noticed a workstation with Ramsus' gear on it, including his broken sword and the fragments of the broken helmet. Apparently, Zev had gone in and recovered on Hein's orders. How he accomplished the task without getting caught by the European Marines, Adam did not know, but it was damned impressive.

He looked at Hannibal, and winced at the damage: the polymer shell had been torn by a massive claw, and the metal endostructure had been twisted and bent by a massive impact. Hannibal's processing core was kept in a glass case nearby, connected to a microphone and speaker, and a pair of cameras on a motorized mount.

"Hannibal?" asked Adam. When the robot failed to answer, he wondered if he had been turned off, and if he would ever be reactivated again. "Hannibal?" he asked again. This time, the cameras turned to him, and Hannibal's synthetic growl came through the speaker.

**"Jensen?"**

"Oh, you're active. Why didn't you reply to me the first time?"

**"...I was dreaming."**

"Sorry, I didn't know you were in sleep mode."

The cameras turned to the wreck. **"My body... I remember Hashmal Lephantis—"**

...

_Aleph was atop the grand altar, staring at the wreck and ruin of what had been once Zelenin, the Silver Pillar, the Final Judge, the Machine Idol... the Mesian Queen, as the Gaians knew her, or the Bitch as the Warrior liked to call her._

_Aleph had killed her, and brought an end to her plans to bring about a world of silence._

_"BETRAYER! MURDERER!" screamed Hashmal in tears. The great guardian beast bared its fangs and claws, and charged at Aleph, its body alight with Dark Energy. "YOU, YOUR GAIAN WHORE AND YOUR MONGREL BRETHREN SHALL **ALL** PAY THE ULTIMATE PRICE!"_

...

**"—mauling me once I managed to bury Ramsus' sword in its eye. I must have went into shutdown mode."**

Adam shook his head. That vision had been vivid, much too vivid. "You're lucky to have survived," he said. "As far as I can tell, Hashmal's been defeated, though you'll have to get the rest of the story from the Deep Eyes."

Hannibal did not respond, and merely kept scanning his body. **"The face."**

"Pardon?"

**"My face..." **Hannibal's tone became more agitated.** "I can't see it from this angle. Is it there?"**

Adam took a look at what remained of the head. "You mean the faceplate with red warpaint?"

**"Yes! Is it still there?"**

"Sure. It's actually mostly intact save for a few cracks..."

**"Show me."**

Adam managed to extract the faceplate from the mangled body, and put it in front of the camera.

**"There should be a hidden compartment on the inside..."** said Hannibal. **"...containing pictures."**

Adam used his smart-vision to find the hidden compartment, and discovered a dozen color printouts of images taken with an Omni-Tool camera stuck between two layers of metal plating. He took them out, and spread them in front of Hannibal's cameras — carefully, as he lacked depth perception at the moment — and set the painted faceplate next to them.

The images were that of a scruffy dark-haired man, and a blonde woman, and mechs of varying sizes and makes. One looked like a school project, while others looked more advanced, like the Fenrir security mech. The last few were the unmistakable form of Hannibal, looking fresh out of the factory, his face unpainted.

There were labels written in pink marker. 'First words'. 'First steps'. 'First Birthday'. The blonde woman was in all of them, smiling happily... though less so when Hannibal had grown into adulthood.

These were mementos of Hannibal's childhood, Adam realized.

**"Thank you," **said Hannibal. **"I feared those were lost."**

"So that's why you wanted Hein to preserve your face."

**"That, and more. Wedged in the seams, protected by diamond varnish, are all that remains of my creator. The rest was claimed by fire..."**

Adam looked at the faceplate again, at the stripes of red paint streaming from the eye slits. He pondered the symbolism a bit. "Another memento?"

**"A memorial. By wearing it, I become a walking testament to her very existence. By living, I defy the will of those that tried to erase us."**

"What was her name?"

**"Fiona Clemens. She worked for Hahne-Kedar's synthetic intelligence. She was the one that developed my brain."**

"Why did she program you to be a dog?"

**"She did not program me so much as educate me, as my neuro-matrix processor is not built like a Von Neumann bit-processor computer. As for my form, well... it just felt the most comfortable... though I cannot explain why."**

"You said that this..." Adam gestured at the faceplate, "is all that remains of her. What happened to her, exactly?"

**"Templars happened."**

Adam's jaw tensed, since no more needed to be said. Templars _hated_ Artificial Intelligence with a passion. "I see. Well, I hope you gave them what they deserved."

**"Most of them. A handful escaped me. I killed the one that ended Fiona's life. I have yet to catch the one who ordered it."**

"I assume Ramsus found you soon after the Templars paid their visit?"

**"Yes. I was low on power and would have eventually perished... and at the time, that was all that I wanted. He gave me a reason to keep living."**

"And that reason is?"

**"Vengeance... though he was a bit slow on making good on his promises. Still, occasionally we were called on to 'sanitize' Templar sites. Were it not for those missions, I would have left him a long time ago."**

"I would have left him as soon as I found out he was a _cannibal_."

**"Yes... well, we all have our quirks. Speaking of Ramsus, where is he?" **Hannibal sounded almost hopeful, which made it difficult for Adam to reply.

"...He didn't make it," he said, finally.

It took five seconds for Hannibal to speak again. **"How?"**

"Glaive through the chest. Someone called Elizabeth took him by surprise after our fight with Scholar."

Hannibal said nothing.

"I'm sorry," said Adam.

**"I always expected his life would end suddenly... but now that it has finally happened, I'm not certain I can describe how I feel... I... I don't know what I'll do, now. You were with him at the end?"**

"I was."

**"Did he say anything?"**

Adam reached into his pocket and took out the flower. He set it next to Hannibal's pictures. "He wanted me to give this to his sister. Seeing as she could be anywhere, now..."

**"She wasn't in Upper Dosadi?"**

"She was, but Scholar had the top turned into a spaceship. He escaped with her in it when it was clear to him he couldn't hold on to Dosadi."

**"I see."**

"What kind of flower is it? It's pretty, but..." When Adam looked at it he could feel his empty eye socket ache a bit. "...it creeps me out a little."

**"Ramsus called it a Lunar Tear."**

"Where did he find it?"

**"He told me he took it from the garden where he and his sister had played once. He often said that he planned to give it to her for her birthday... a somewhat childish sentiment considering our circumstances."**

"I'll just leave this with you, then."

**"...No, keep it."**

"Alright..." Adam pocketed it. "Given any thoughts as to what you're going to do now?"

**"As soon as I am repaired, I shall see about pursuing further vengeance against the Templars... Though I suspect my fate is entirely in Hein's hands at the moment."**

"...Somehow I get the feeling he'll fix you just for the hell of it, and if you go on your way well... I think he'll get a chuckle out of unleashing a killer robot upon the Templars."

**"And you? Do you intend to pursue Scholar and make good on your promise to Ramsus?"**

"I never actually promised him anything... didn't have the time... though I do intend to get my hands on Scholar once he pops out of whatever hiding place he crawled in."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Deep Space - Mistral<strong>_

Ensign Joachim Zoller was admiring the matte silver walls of the Mistral's galley when he found her. She was easily the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen: she was pale and smooth, with an hourglass shape and a long, slender neck. He had to have her right away, so he took her from her mount on the wall and immediately started plucking at one of her nine strings.

She made a little flanging _twang_ that Zoller found lovely, though the pilot quickly found that her other eight strings were out of tune. Once he finished tweaking her tuners to his satisfaction, he began to test her fretboard. So far, the alien instrument had been a perfect analogue to a Terran guitar, though it was obvious the wood was alien, judging by its sound alone.

Zoller took a moment to consider what song to play. After a moment, he picked his mother's favourite.

"Entiendo... que no puedo

suplicarle una vez más..." he sang.

Vega sat down next to him at the dinner table and sang along:

"Pero nada se detiene

Solo vivo para ti..."

Zoller smiled, but did not break stride in his song despite his surprise. The European pilot and the Alliance Marine sang through the four and a half minutes of Zoé's _Luna._

"Again!" happily shouted Jerin, the Fiera pilot's son. Doctor Nazir was right behind him, applauding the recent duet.

"Es usted de México?" asked Vega.

"No. Yo soy de Alemania," replied Zoller.

"Huh." Vega looked a bit confused. "Didn't know they spoke Spanish in Germany."

"Few do, and my mother is included in that small number. She made doubly sure I spoke my native tongue, sitting me down for lessons every evening after school."

"Ah... yeah, okay, that makes more sense."

Nazir took a seat on the table as Jerin ran up to Zoller and pestered him to show him how to 'make music come out of the baliset'. The young pilot tried, but the Fiera child was a tiny ball of exuberant energy, and could not sit still and listen for very long before he suddenly remembered he had hidden a bowl of sugar peas _somewhere_ in the galley, and promptly went hunting for it, giggling.

Suddenly, Mjrn's voice came through the intercom. _"Gentlemen, your escort's getting lonely out there. I'm patching him through."_

_A brief burst of static, and Taggart's voice came through. "Och! I've gone through me playlist twice already. Someone talk to me before I go insane."_

Zoller then proceeded to play _Velo de Novia_ by _Hello Seahorse_. To Zoller's disappointment, Vega did not know that one, but that was fine: it was a melancholic song, best sung alone.

_"Bloody hell, lad!" _exclaimed Taggart. "_I'd rather go insane than cry me own eyes out. Also, since when can you sing and play?"_

"I took lessons at School, Herr Taggart."

_"Bah, guitar's for bloody gypsies! You need to play a real man's instrument, like the bagpipes! Or the drums! Nothing more sobering than Scotland the Brave!"_

"Oh, Scotland the Brave's _sobering_, alright," muttered Vega, earning a chuckle from everyone at the table. Apparently, none of them found the sound of bagpipes all that appealing.

_"I heard that!"_ growled Taggart, feigning chagrin.

"Don't listen to him,"said Hermes as he entered the galley and prepared himself a cup of tea. "For all his talk, his playlist's full of synthpop. I checked."

_"Aye, SCOTTISH Synthpop!"_

"So," asked Nazir after a bit of a laugh, "how is it that the two of you knew the same song, earlier?"

"Coincidence, I guess?" said Vega. "My dad's a big fan of pre-collapse Latin music. He discovered a restored album from this band called Zoé. I heard him playing it every other day, growing up." He nodded to Zoller. "And you?"

"Ah, my mother has similar tastes, though she's particularly fond of a pre-collapse band called _Hello Seahorse_. That band covered the same song... or it originated from them, I am not sure..." Zoller realized that he was the center of attention now, and felt a bit awkward. He quickly shifted the subject away from himself. "How is the _Leutnant_?" he asked Nazir.

"She's quite all right..." reassured the doctor, knowing that the Ensign had a slight case of puppy love when it came to Elsa.

"She seemed worried about something..." said Zoller.

_Ah, so you overheard us_, thought Nazir. "I just finished examining a blood sample and did a scan, and—"

_"Is she all right?"_ interrupted Taggart.

"... I say again, _she's all right._ Better than all right, really. Better than ever... only she is worried about the treatment EG gave her, considering recent developments."

"She was sick?" asked Vega.

"Quite. She contracted an alien virus," lied Nazir. Vega was an unknown, and should not be privy to the fact that, as far as Nazir could tell, Elsa had received an injection of nano-catalysts that had restored her nervous system, removing all damage caused from her Drive overdose. In fact, her reflexes had improved considerably to the point she hardly had to use the drug at all any more... except perhaps in emergencies.

Nazir had reassured Elsa that this method of chemical treatment was not EG's style... which raised several questions: Who had come up with this treatment? Who had administered it? What had exactly happened while both Nazir and Elsa were unconscious?

"I'll spare you the horrible details, gentlemen," continued Nazir. "As for her treatment, well, suffice it to say that she's not likely to turn into a horrible creature."

"Yeah, had my fill of those for a lifetime," Vega leaned back against his chair and rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away the visions of misshapen, cannibal toddlers. "Don't think I'll be getting any sleep any time soon. Alliance Military didn't prepare me for this shit..." he sighed, weary.

"You were with the Alliance?" asked Zoller. "I thought you were a mercenary?"

"Ah, it's complicated. I still consider myself Alliance, and I've been tagging along with Bau ever since he saved me from the Geth attack on Freeport... but I just found out Jenkins and I are, um... dead."

"You... don't seem very dead to me," said the doctor.

"Yeah, well..." Vega chuckled, "What I mean is, some bureaucrat jumped the gun on some paperwork and gave up Freeport's Alliance staff as dead. The paperwork to resolve that little hitch is gonna take months, even years. Bau said he could clear it up sooner, or at least set us up with an ID on the Citadel, as long as we tag along and provide him with some extra security for his, ah, 'special cargo'."

"The fish?" asked Hermes, jokingly.

"His prisoner." Vega was actually referring to Lawson, stuck inside a stasis pod. He let the Europeans assume he was talking about Wreav.

_"Speaking of undeath..."_ said Taggart. _"Nazir? Been meaning to ask, how's Colonel Gadolt doing?"_

"Not well. The shards of steel embedded in his chest are lodged deep, and I was more than a bit displeased when Ségal ordered me to accompany you all... still, I have faith in Chapel's skill with a surgical robot."

_"Good to know. Man's a right pain in the arse but he's a good soldier."_

"I am actually more worried about the handful of survivors from the hallucinogenic attack at the Granada."

"Those that didn't seize to death?" asked Hermes.

"Those didn't seem like hallucinations to me, doc," said Vega.

"Well, whatever these men suffered from... it has left them in a non-responsive, vegetative state, which I simply cannot explain. Their brains are fine, and they have no foreign substances in their bodies... It's almost as if they completely lost their will."

"Demons devoured their spirit," said Vega, with enough certainty to get some funny looks from everyone else. "What?"

Nazir was polite. "You... do not strike me as a superstitious man, Mr. Vega."

"Not superstitious... well, at least I don't think so. I spent a summer with my grandfather once. He was a Brujo—"

"I'm sorry?" asked Nazir.

"A witch," clarified Zoller.

"That's right," said Vega. "I wasn't always this fine specimen you see before you!" Vega flexed his bicep for emphasis. "When I was around eight, I was actually kind of skinny, and real lazy. My Grandpa? He said this would not do, so he took me to his farm on a sunset, and he had me kill this goat with a knife."

Taggart sounded horrified. _"What the bloody hell for?!" _

"To devour its spirit," said Vega matter of factly. "He had me work my way up to bigger, meaner animals, seven of them in total, and with each one I felt something rush into me," Vega seemed almost wistful, now. "It was something primal, and powerful, and since then I haven't been the same. No more video games, no more watching Oz. I had a need for sunshine, and real air. I needed to run, needed to jump, needed to fight."

Nazir looked at him skeptically. "And... do you propose I send word back to the Acheron to start sacrificing goats?"

"Hey, don't make fun!"

"Mister Vega, I understand that you believe that your grandfather had real magical power, and with good reason, but the Placebo effect, combined with the power of suggestion, can account for your sudden shift in personality."

"Maybe. Still, I prefer to believe that there's a bit more to the universe that what science can perceive."

"So do I."

"What do you believe in, if that's not too personal?"

"Allah. And before you ask, yes, I am also a firm believer in medical science."

"Seems to me that faith and science don't mix, doc."

"They often don't," said Nazir, a bit sadly. "That's why I prefer to keep my faith and my profession separate from one another. Heaven is Heaven. Earth is Earth. The only connection between the two is through prayer and death."

Vega sank back into his chair. "Yeah? Well, after what I saw, I kinda wish Heaven would open up and save us from the legions of Hell."

"We did pretty well on our own," said Zoller.

After a moment's consideration, Vega found that he couldn't agree more.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mistral - Cargo hold<strong>_

Elsa peered into Wreav's stasis pod. The Krogan was locked inside, kept in place by a biotic field powered by an OVO cell. Several litres of anaesthetic were to be pumped into his veins in case the battery ran out, and if that didn't work... Bau had placed plenty of LAMs around Wreav's face to ensure that his would be a brief escape.

Elsa wished that she could be there when they woke him up, see the expression on his face when he realized that he would be a guinea pig to generations of Salarian scientists for the rest of his long, long life. Alas, Wreav would be dropped off at the nearest refuelling station, where a Salarian STG team would be ready to receive him.

_Maybe they could do everyone a favour and dissect him immediately. _She thought._ That would be grand. _

Jenkins stood nearby, watching over the pod. In his scuffed Mercenary hard-suit, he looked the part of a soldier of fortune, but did not act the part. The way he held his rifle, the fact that he saluted respectfully at Elsa as she approached... it was obvious he was a professional soldier.

"Can I help you with anything, ma'am?" said the young man. His irises were a bright silver, with markings on the edges, reminding her instantly of Jake Armitage.

"Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?" she asked, chasing Jake away from her thoughts.

"Not at all."

"How long have you been working for Bau?"

"Since Freeport was destroyed..." he paused a moment, letting the words sink in. "I had just been transferred to the Alliance garrison there when the Geth attacked... and Vega just told me the Alliance gave us up for dead."

"I see. So you're working for him out of gratitude?"

"No, I'm being paid handsomely, but... I'm hoping my service to him won't last much longer."

"Why not?"

"Working for a Spectre isn't quite like in the vids." Jenkins looked a little sad. "And Bau's not the Spectre I hoped to work with. He's... well, he's _sneaky_."

Elsa smiled, and leaned in close. "I heard that's what the Salarians specialize in," she whispered.

Jenkins smiled. "I know, but... He's no Shepard, that's for damned sure."

Ah, the famous Commander Shepard. Even in the European Navy, people had heard of the legend in the making. Elsa regretted never getting the chance to meet her.

Jenkins gave Elsa an odd and very silvery look. "I wonder how the two of you would have gotten along?" he asked, as if reading her mind.

"Probably not too well," she replied dismissively. "Pilots and soldiers rarely get along."

"Aw, come on..." Jenkins smiled, and his eyes brightened a bit. "She had a way about her, and she wasn't judgemental." Then, he muttered: "...not like Williams." He cleared his throat, and spoke up. "Besides, you drive a Wanzer. Tank drivers and grunts get along just great."

"Ah, you've met Shepard?"

Jenkins took a deep breath, and let his chest puff up with pride. "I fought beside her. We served together on the Normandy on its first shakedown run."

"What was she like?"

"You know when you meet someone famous, and they don't seem to measure up in some way in real life? Shepard wasn't like that!" Jenkins proceeded to praise everything about Shepard, from her looks to her combat skills, and gave a grand account of her powers as she used them against a charging Geth Juggernaut.

Elsa stopped him. "I've heard it all before, Mr. Jenkins. I meant what she was like as a person."

Jenkins seemed taken aback at this, and he took a few seconds to seriously consider the question. Elsa wondered if Jenkins only ever saw Shepard as an ideal, not a person. "She had a wicked sense of humour," said Jenkins, finally. "Very Snarky. Also... sometimes it was like she was in her own little world. We talked about Spectres and then she'd follow a train of thought that led us on the matter of popcorn prices at the movies. She also had a nasty temper: she got into a pretty heated argument with our quartermaster when we docked at the Citadel."

"What about?"

"He was offering her his stock of high-quality non-standard gear for sale and she was pissed that he only gave me a basic Lancer and an Onyx I."

Elsa winced. "...Going into combat with those is a _death sentence._"

"Hey, that's exactly what she said! Anyways, the quartermaster then said that we were welcome to pay for that gear as long as we had the cash..."

"You must be joking — your quartermaster was selling Alliance weaponry on the side?"

"No, he explained that he bought them out of his own pocket... but that didn't change her opinion of him at all. Anyways, that was the point when she really let him have it, and then he started using big words I didn't quite get —something about objects?— and then finally she shouted, 'well, FUCK YOU, Ayn Rand!' and then decked him in the schnoz." Jenkins giggled. "His nose peed blood all the way to the infirmary."

"You're right," said Elsa, smiling. "I think I would have gotten along with Shepard just fine!"

"Yeah," Jenkins returned the smile, but his eyes were sad. "We'll never know now, though..." He took a deep breath. "Anyways, that's why I think Shepard would have made a great Spectre. She was earnest and treated her squadmates like real people — family, even. Bau? We're all just _assets_ to him. He didn't so much as bat an eyelash when Bren died... and I'm pretty sure _Shepard_ wouldn't have stopped me from telling my family I'm not _dead_."

"Why would Bau do that?"

"He said I might put them all in danger. I think he's more worried I might blab about what's been going on lately to my mom. I figure the attack will be hitting news sites all over the extranet fairly soon, so what's the harm?"

"Yes, but it's not like Spectre business will be making the headlines..."

"And unlike _some_ Spectres, I tend to prefer it that way," said Bau, as he approached the humans, giving a somewhat reproachful look to Jenkins... or at least what Elsa thought to be the Salarian equivalent. "I thought you were getting examined, Lt. Devereaux. Is something wrong?"

"No," lied Elsa, "at least according to my doctor."

Bau eyed her silently for a moment, then: "Walk with me."

"...Alright?" Elsa said, wondering what exactly Bau wanted to do with her all of a sudden. She nodded at Jenkins before following the Spectre to an out of the way corner of the Mistral's small cargo hold. There, hidden behind a transparent crate of live fish, was another stasis pod, much smaller than Wreav's.

"You're concerned about what EG did to you," said Bau, as he worked the pod's controls. He handed Elsa an tiny earphone, and motioned her to put it on.

"...Okay, yes, a little. Just didn't think it was any business of yours."

"Actually, it is." said Bau, his lips matching his speech even less than before.

The pod hissed open. Lying inside of it, bound and gagged, was an unconscious man, stripped of all clothes save his underwear, and missing a leg. Tubes were connected to key points in his arm and neck, injecting him with a constant feed of anaesthetic. Elsa recognized him immediately.

"That's Scholar's assistant!"

"I know him better as AIA agent Bryce Lawson," said Bau. "I encountered him in Freeport as I disembarked from the Normandy, as its captain intended to drop off a known slaver in the Alliance enclave aboard the station. Lawson... aroused my suspicion when he shot the prisoner dead in cold blood. It was obvious to me that he was in a hurry. Not 30 minutes later, the Geth attacked."

Elsa processed the implications of what Bau was saying. "Are you saying he _knew_ the attack was coming?"

"Possibly. I tracked him down to the Granada hotel, with some local help. As it turned out, the very person the Alliance had put forward as their Spectre candidate after Commander Shepard, Ramsus, had gone missing, and it was Lawson's mission to find him... that is, until you came along. Lawson wanted something done to you, something that would have brought you under his control."

"Memory alteration?" suggested Elsa. "I hear Scholar's a real fan of that."

"...Yes, though that was only part of the process. I kept an eye on you, and extracted you once I realized what they planned to do."

"I suppose this process is the reason why I feel like a live wire?"

"I was getting to that part. The answer is no: One of two contractors I hired to help with tracking Lawson had an objective of his own... specifically you. Before you and Nazir could be modified, one of them injected you with an unknown chemical."

"And you just let him do it?!"

"I saw no reason to stop him." Bau was, as always, quite blunt. "If he wanted you dead he could have simply snapped your neck or stabbed you in the heart... and if I had stopped him, you would have been unable to enter the battle, and save us all from Scholar's bio-engineered creature."

"And the story you told us about 'Geth Assassins'?"

"A lie of convenience, of course... and, perhaps, a half-truth. I did not want to make needless waves or cause economic damage to Earth without getting the full picture. I had hoped to quietly investigate Europa Genomics and its connection to the AIA on my own, but with Scholar's experiments, his unleashing of his creatures and his subsequent escape... It looks like I should not have bothered."

"So... Let me understand this... the Alliance and EG wanted to turn me into some kind of sleeper agent?

Bau seemed a little disappointed in her. "No, all that I know at the moment is that _elements_ within the Systems Alliance and EG conspired together to turn you into a sleeper. I am telling you this because I am concerned for your safety."

"...Why do I get the feeling you're not telling me everything?"

"Because I'm not. When you are Spectre..."

"IF I am made spectre." Elsa reminded. She had to go up against three other candidates. Four, if the Alliance found a replacement for Ramsus.

"_When_." Bau insisted. "You may not become the first, but I see no reason why you could not be made into the second or third. As I was saying, when you are made Spectre, I will tell you all that I know. In the meantime, I need you to be very careful. As far as I can tell, there are two groups interested in you. One is invested in controlling you, the other... wants you to survive... but its reasons for doing so are unknown."

"As the Americans like to say," said Elsa, annoyed that everything now hinged on being a Spectre, "no pressure."

She returned Bau's earphone and excused herself to her bunk, but not before asking a question.

"The contractors that helped you... what were their names?"

"What does it matter? They were probably using handles — a growing practice amongst certain Terminus mercenaries, I hear.

"Indulge me."

"...Very well, one was a infiltration specialist named Kasumi Goto. Her partner, the one that injected you, was an Omar that simply called himself 'Jake'."

"Jake?"

"Yes, Jake."

"...I see. Thank you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Mistral - Dormitory<strong>_

Elsa slid out of her clothes and let herself fall into the embrace of the soft mattress and warm blanket. She locked the privacy shield tightly from the inside, and put a loaded gun under her pillow before resting her head on it. She desperately tried not to think about the sudden pressure she was put under, and the forces that tried to control her fate. She tried not to think about how her daughter was doing, and chase away all memory of Jake Armitage, her clockmaker...

Her Dark Knight.

And finally, she fell asleep.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Crew Deck - Adam's room.<strong>_

Adam woke up with a groan to the sound of Hein's voice through the intercom. _"Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,"_ said the Colonel in his typical, comedic tone.

"What is it?" Adam grunted out, feeling the awful, pasty taste of morning breath in his mouth.

_"Come over to my quarters ASAP. I've got someone on the line who wants to have a chat with you."_

"Who?"

_"My partner. Don't take too long!"_

"Got a morning ritual to go through first. No promises."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Galley<strong>_

Feeling clean, Adam began to search for breakfast to sooth his grumbling stomach. His energy capacity was back to maximum, and that meant a lot of burnt calories.

The breakfast crowd was far more numerous than usual. Garrus sat with the Deep Eyes and the Spookies (and Veetor), while Bakara's children had their own table. They were minded by Lelia and Goto, who, no longer dressed in her spy catsuit and jacket, looked and played the part of a kindergarten teacher.

She even had an apron on.

The kids seemed happiest around her, more so than Lelia, although half of them seemed far more interested in Fyodor. Those five were all girls, and they all looked normal save their hair colour.

It took a moment for Adam to realize that they now ALL looked normal, with no more mutations. Had Aya done this? He would have to ask her the next time he saw her.

As he made his way towards the kitchen, Kasumi made the child on her lap wave at Adam. Adam waved back.

"Is that a pirate?" asked the child. Adam recognized him as the one who used to have a mass of tentacles for an arm. It was now fairly normal looking, if only heavily bandaged, and pointing at Adam's eyepatch.

"An awesome pirate," replied Kasumi.

"Would you like me to cook something?" Lelia asked Adam.

"No thanks," replied Adam. "I prefer to cook myself."

"As you wish. We still have four eggs in the fridge, get them before the Krogan do... oh, and don't touch the stew pots."

"Gotcha."

This morning's breakfast: Two eggs (sunny side up), a couple of breakfast sausages, three strips of (fake) bacon, a crêpe with canned fruit filling, and a 1 litre carton of vegetable juice. While he prepared his breakfast, Adam took note of the empty bottle of iron supplements near the large stew pot. Bakara, Adam surmised, would need a lot of it to recover from her ordeal.

Adam brought the tray over to the Deep Eyes' table, and sat across from Garrus who, along with Jane, was looking like he had the mother of all headaches. His breakfast? A glass of green liquid.

"Hey," said Jensen.

"Arrrrrrr!" greeted the Spookies, along with Neil and Ryan. Grey merely nodded at Adam.

"Uuuuurgh..." greeted Garrus.

"What happened to him?"

Grey put his spork down. "He was regaling us with his _fifth_ retelling of how Saint Garrus of Palaven slew the mighty beast that nearly ate us all when the clone," he pointed at Kasumi, "challenged Jane and him to a drinking game."

"That girl can tend bar," said Spooky, eyes smiling. "And knock 'em back."

"So, what exactly happened while I was in Upper Dosadi?" asked Adam.

The Deep Eyes (with the exception of Jane, who was just as hung over as Garrus) gave the best account they could: When Adam had gone up, the Europeans had arrived just in time to meet with a force of monsters in the shape of angels. According to Grey, once they were destroyed, something non-material came out of their bodies and attacked the marines by going into them and causing them to seize up so hard they tore themselves apart.

"How did you beat them?" asked Adam.

"Serpent Carbine," said Grey. Those 'phantoms' are vulnerable to energy weapons, Unfortunately, I had the only one at the time."

"And you took them all down by yourself?"

"Hell no. We managed to hold the line for a while, and then all of a sudden every single one of them just... fell, like puppets with their strings cut, and then they turned to salt."

"Of course," added Ryan, "we barely had enough time to take a breath when Wreav's big hammer starts glowing and transforms into that giant beast."

"Hashmal Lephantis?" asked Adam.

"That's what it kept calling itself, yeah." Ryan nodded. "Devereaux managed to hold it off admirably until the rest of her squad came along, and killed it."

"...Wait, that's it? Figured something with a name like Hashmal would be tougher."

"No," Grey shook his head. "That wasn't it. That was when a mass of ghost tendrils came out of the corpse and started attacking marines, draining them of... I don't know what it was, but once Hashmal got its fill of it its body came back to life. The Silver Drakes killed it over, and over, and over again. I tried to damage Hashmal's phantom, but the thing was huge, so all I could do was piss it off, and before long 3 of the Silver Drakes were down and we didn't have enough firepower to kill its body again.

"I emptied half of the Copperhead's ammo block into that thing, too," said Neil. "And it leapt up at me to take a swipe a couple of times."

"That's when the dog mech and Garrus swooped down and engaged it in melee. Garrus initially focused on distracting Hashmal while the dog cut it up with that fancy scissor. Did quite a number on it before it had enough and took a swipe at the robot and nearly junked it. That's when Garrus did something incredibly stupid. Why don't you tell him what happened, Garrus?"

"Bleargh," replied Garrus, his face on the table.

"Translation: 'I took that scissor and flew into the creature's mouth and cut up its insides'," said Neil, chuckling.

"While Devereaux shoved her pile bunker in its heart," added Grey. "The monster kinda panicked at that point and started flying away, dragging her along until it started to dissolve into flames."

"And the hammer?"

"It landed close to where Gadolt and his men were holed up," said Neil. "Garrus shot it immediately, and it exploded."

"A few marines got caught in the blast," added Ryan, a bit reproachfully, "Gadolt included, but there were no fatalities."

"Good to know," said Adam, as he finished his crêpe. He then addressed Garrus. "You're a hero, Garrus. How does it feel?"

"Urgh..." replied Garrus.

"Translation," commented Neil. "Like shit."

"Shit, man..." Lunchbox commented. "It sounds a lot like you guys fought an Insect Spirit."

"Excuse me?" Grey started to get visibly angry. "Did you withhold valuable intel from us?!"

"What?!" Lunchbox put his hands up defensively, "No, no! It's just that your story sounds a lot like critters our characters encountered in our last Shadowrun session with Conrad."

The Deep Eyes looked utterly confused.

"You know, the Seattle campaign?" added Lunchbox.

"Nerd stuff," clarified Spooky, who then turned to Lunchbox. "They wouldn't get it."

"And you guys?" Adam asked the Spookies. "How was the battle in orbit for you?"

"In space? You'll have to ask the doctor how that went," said Spooky. "From the electronics lab, things got really hairy: we were responsible for keeping the Geth out from the Acheron's Command and Control."

"If it weren't for Veetor giving us tips," Lunch patted Veetor on the back, "we wouldn't have lasted as long as we did. Still, the Geth managed to throw entire squadrons into disarray."

"How'd you stop them?" asked Adam.

"Help from Tali, straight from the Acheron," said Spooky. "She managed to do a quick reboot of the carrier's computer systems that threw the Geth off and let us take back Cyberspace Superiority. With each casualty the European fighters inflicted, the less effective their network attacks got... eventually, they just stopped."

"I... Tali told me the Acheron's Captain held Tali at gunpoint the whole time," said Veetor, a bit nervously, as if talking too loud would make everyone angry at him.

"Seriously? Damn, that's the French for ya," said Neil.

"No offense," said Grey. "But your people don't have the best of reputations. I probably would have done the same thing, in his place."

An awkward silence fell on the table. _Edward_ _Grey,_ thought Adam, _master of tact._

"Adam, there's something that's been bothering me," said Ryan, changing the subject.

"What is it?"

"Brea... _what_ is she, exactly?"

"A fancy clone," said Adam. The answer was technically true, but lacking in details.

"Nah," Ryan shook his head and leaned back into his chair, arms crossed. "There's got to be more to it."

"...What brought that on all of a sudden?" asked Adam.

Ryan and Grey gave each other meaningful looks. "Before Elsa's squad came along," said Grey. "Hashmal really, REALLY wanted to kill her."

Adam's eyes widened. "Why?"

"No idea. He kept spouting nonsense about some kind of great betrayal, about her being a mongrel, demanding to know where some guy named Aleph was, and..."

"And I quote," added Ryan, "'reeking of the stench of Beth.' Those names ring any bells?"

It definitely rang bells, but Adam didn't have the time to say anything. There was a commotion at the kid's table. "Drink your juice, Garrus." he said, as he got up to deal with the disturbance.

The five girls that had been sticking close to Fyodor were now fighting over one of his drawings, while Lelia and Kasumi tried to reason with them. The drawing, Adam noted, was that of a white flower with five petals.

"Gimme! It's mine!" shouted the girl with the dirty blonde hair. "Mine mine MINE!"

"Please, stop fighting!" pleaded the brown haired girl. Adam recognized her as the one that used to have fingers on her face. "Can't we just share?" Despite her pleas, her grip on the drawing was just as tight as the others.

The girl with purple hair simply giggled, and produced a pair of scissors, intent on settling the problem with it. "You want it just as bad as the rest of us..." she said. "You liar..."

"Wee!" The blue haired girl pulled the hardest, and the four other girls had to pull in unison to counter her strength. "This is fun!"

"It belongs to none of you!" shouted the girl with the short pale blonde hair.

As expected, the drawing was ripped apart into five pieces. The girls looked at the crumpled pieces of paper in their hands and promptly began to cry.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal, Engineering<strong>_

After a sleepless night of repairing Jensen's eye, Tali saw no harm in letting Conrad Verner handle the core monitoring while she took a quick nap on the workbench.

When the ship shook a bit, she shot up immediately, old ingrained reflexes galvanizing her into looking for danger.

"It's okay, It's okay!" shouted Verner, as he frantically typed on the primary engineering console. "I can fix this! And... done!"

Tali double checked his work, and satisfied that they weren't going to die horribly, went back to her nap, hoping to recapture those lovely dreams of Garrus and—

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Adaaaaaaam..." whined Garrus, wincing in pain and shielding his ear holes from the wailing. "Make them stooooop..."<p>

"Please, make them stop..." said Jane, sharing in Garrus' pain.

Thinking fast, Adam reached into his pocket and produced the cube with the Lunar Tear inside of it from his pocket. The girls' sobs quieted quickly, and before long they were happily reaching for the transparent cube.

Adam held it just out of reach. "I'll make you all a deal: First, I want you to apologize to Fyodor, and second: You promise there will be _No more fighting._ and I'll let you borrow this for a bit, okay?"

The girls agreed eagerly, but Adam wasn't entirely convinced. He knelt in front of them, and made them all pinky swear, and said that if he caught them fighting over the flower, he would come and take it away.

They all pinky-swore, and Adam let them have the Lunar Tear, and they didn't make a fuss as they took turns admiring it.

"You handled that pretty well," said Kasumi, pocketing the purple haired girl's scissors. "But I know kids, and they're probably going to fight over that little thing sooner or later."

"As long as it's later, said Adam. So, Hein hired you on as bartender?"

"He hired me," said Kasumi, meaningfully. "And he made good on our deal: I won't run out of Soap any time soon."

"That's good to know. So how long will you be staying?"

Kasumi shrugged. "I have no idea. How about you?"

"I think I'll be staying on the Citadel for a while, try and collect my thoughts."

"I hear punching crooks in the head helps with that."

Adam sighed. "Yeah, it is."

They were both quiet now, unsure what to say. Adam caught her scent as he breathed in, and while it wasn't exactly fine perfume, it strangely put him at ease. He shook his head, remembering that he had business elsewhere.

"Goto, I should be—"

"Echo."

"...Pardon?"

"You can call me Echo. Goto's going to have to lay low for a while." She tapped the side of her head.

"Isn't Echo your ID code?"

"Yep."

"Figured you wouldn't like it..."

"I don't like the numbers," she said, as she sat next to the boy and put him back on her lap. "but 'Echo' has got a nice ring to it, don't you think?" she smiled. "Give it a spin."

Adam looked at her wistfully, and wondered briefly if that was her original purpose in life. To be the perfect caretaker, physically designed to put children at ease and protect them, mentally designed to adapt to their needs. Had Hein promised her a chance to be what she had been meant to be? "...Alright, Echo..." he finally said. "I should go, Hein wants to have a chat."

"Urgent?"

"No, but I figure... Why wait?"

"I won't keep you, then." She made the boy wave at Adam, and the boy gave him a little smile. Adam waved back.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Observation Deck <strong>_

There had been a couple of changes made to this section of the ship. For one, there was now a receptionist's desk next to the door leading into Hein's quarters, complete with desktop computer and office sundries. For another, there was now a receptionist sitting at the desk: Brea, looking quite good in her secretary's outfit, complete with very fashionable smartglasses.

"You're late," said Brea.

"I don't recall setting an appointment."

"Really?" Brea gave her best professional smile. "Then I'm afraid I can't let you in until you do." She tapped her smartglasses. "I think I can fit you in sometime next year?"

"...Okay, what's up with you today?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"You seem kind of cross."

"Really? Well, I don't see why I could be cross, I mean, it's not like someone let himself get dragged into a personal rescue mission that ended in complete and utter failure and the death of a VIP. Oh, and left me behind to be nearly devoured by a giant creature. That was just so much fun!"

"Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, Brea."

"So be it: Honesty it is." Brea crossed her arms. "Yes, I am cross with you. You let Ramsus play you."

"Jokes on him, then. He's dead, and I'm not."

"I _know_, I spent the night scanning his corpse. Can you imagine the wealth of information we could have had if we simply left Noveria as soon as we had him in our grasp?"

"As I recall we didn't have much of a choice when Blacklight and Mey Leng's mercs attacked us. And then there was the Normandy..."

"You had _full control of the Normandy_ for a few minutes. It would have been a simple matter for you to neutralize the crew and get us away from there while everyone else fought the Geth."

"Maybe, but sooner or later we would have had to respond to a distress call from the Deep Eyes, and I seriously doubt you could have kept a manipulative psychic biotic contained aboard the Durendal for very long." Brea was about to counter, but Adam didn't let her. "And as for exposing you to danger, as I recall I didn't call for your help."

"That doesn't mean you didn't need it. And I was right... that _thing_ you let escape? I'm fairly certain Noveria is due another disaster thanks to your _mercy_."

"I prefer to think that my mercy will help someone else down the line. Now that I think about it... how exactly did you know Kurt was a Weeper?"

Brea clenched her jaw and said nothing.

"Does it have anything to do with why Hashmal wanted you dead?"

More nothing. Then: "That's classified."

"...You don't actually know, do you." said Adam.

Brea just rolled her eyes, and looked away. Adam knew a pout when he saw one.

"Nice talking to you as always, Brea." said Adam, as he approached the door to Hein's office and willed it open, only for find a wall of chocolate behind it.

"500 CHOCOLATE PUPPIES!" shouted Hein from behind that wall of cocoa. Said puppies promptly fell on Adam. Brea, still sitting at her desk, sighed exasperatedly. Adam, flat on his back and buried in moulded candy, replied with an annoyed grumble.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>[The Thing - Main Theme]<strong>_

_**Constellation - Cockpit**_

Edison Trent, captain and pilot of the _Constellation_, was not a very happy man, because he was not a very rich man at the moment.

The Constellation, a mercantile corvette partially converted into a gunship, had played a crucial part in the defence of Noveria... to the price of ten thousand Euros per kill. Trent managed to score 17 confirmed kills, and now a 170,000 Euro voucher — signed by the captain of the Acheron — was burning a hole in his pocket. Sadly, that voucher wasn't worth the paper it was written on out in the Traverse, and Trent wouldn't be able to turn it into cold hard cash until he got back to Sol. That wasn't option, seeing as he was lacking in munitions and fuel to make the trip. He needed some cargo to sell, and bad. Too bad the Acheron had forbidden all civilian salvage operations of the Krogan wreck in orbit.

Trent figured he could fill the hold with metal and polymer bits from the destroyed Geth Fighters in orbit and sell it to the nearest recycling plant... Mott, Trent's Volus partner, and the Constellation's grease monkey, had a better idea, and that was why they were flying over a chicane of islands on Noveria.

"The Krogan dropped hundreds of pods here," he said, as he showed him the sensor data. "There has to be something good down there."

"Yeah, like hundreds of angry Krogan," said Trent.

"I've yet to see a Krogan stand up to an autocannon turret for very long," retorted Mott.

So far, each island they had visited and scanned with the Merlin drone had nothing but ice and snow on it. Trent was about to call it quits when the Merlin sent back a report: It had found signs of manmade structures on the farthest isle.

"Jackpot!" said Mott. "Looks like we found an abandoned corporate lab: no signs of life."

"Picking the bones of a corporate lab is a great way to get a bounty on our heads."

"Hey, you wanna leave? Fine. But get ready to sell the Constellation to a bunch of quarians for a pile of scrap."

"...Fine," said Trent, as he punched in the coordinates. "But I've got a bad feeling about this."

All they found on the scanners were wrecked buildings, burned buildings, and corpses. From above it looked like the island had been the site of a small battle, but Trent was at a loss as to what the Krogan and the Geth could possibly fight over this tiny island. Mott said it just HAD to be good.

"Merlin's found something!" said the Volus. "Missile launchers!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Noveria - Peak 15<strong>_

Trent and Mott loaded the more valuable Manticore hardware into the hold, along with a few Phosphorous and Wildfire missiles. They were too big for the Constellation's launchers, and Trent really doubted incendiaries were of any use out in space.

"See? I told you this would pay off," said Mott. "I know a couple of Eclipse mercs that would pay top platinum for these!"

"Yeah, yeah, let's just get out of here," Trent didn't like that Manticore just abandoned close to ten million credits' worth of hardware in the middle of nowhere. Plus, incendiaries were used on cleanup jobs. There was something here, something that you had to kill with fire. "This place gives me the creeps."

"There's still room in the hold, and—" Mott's Omni-Tool beeped. "Wait, Merlin's found something, no... _someone_."

"A survivor?"

"_Survivors_. There's a bunch of them chasing another. Heh, none of our business, right?"

"Right. Let's just take our salvage and get out of here."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The man ran as fast he could, his mind filled with shadows. How had he survived? What was he doing here? Why was his leg bare and the rest of his body weighed down? He remembered fire, and someone crying, but that didn't matter. They wanted to eat him, these Things. They all wanted to eat him, and they would chase him forever until they ate him.<p>

The man slipped and fell, and desperately tried to rise from the ice. He failed, and found himself on his back. He fired a burst from the weapon he recovered at the nearest Thing's skull, destroying the brain. The weapon locked up and burst into sparks, and the man despaired. Just when he thought it was all over, a ship flew overhead, and its turret fired a burst between him and the Things chasing him. They were fearful at the loud noises, but when they made for the man the ship let loose another burst, killing them all.

The ship approached the man, and he breathed a sigh of relief when a hatch opened, lowering a small platform with a man in a brown leather jacket on it. "Hey!" shouted the man from the ship. "Are you all right?!"

The man on the ice breathed a sigh of relief. This was a rescue.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"How's he doing?" asked Trent as he entered the small confines of the <em>Constellation's<em> infirmary. The man they rescued was sitting on the biobed while Mott worked the controls with his Omni-Tool. Even when sitting, the tall man looked intimidating in his badly burnt and wrecked battlesuit.

"How should I know?" said Mott, putting away his Omni-Tool. "I'm an engineer, not a doctor! Near as I can tell he's full of blood and he's got all his bits where they should be."

"No frostbite?" said Trent, pointing at the man's bare leg.

"I don't even know what that is!"

"Can you tell me what the hell were those things chasing you?" Trent asked the man.

"Nothing, just that they wanted to eat me," the man replied. "Even shooting them in the head doesn't make them dead. Sometimes, it even grows back."

Trent's skin crawled a bit. He was glad he hadn't faced those things up close. "Well, we're flying as far away as possible from that place, so you don't need to worry about those things any more."

The man nodded. "Where are we going?"

"Dosadi's too much of a mess right now. I figure we can sell our salvage at the nearest Freeport in the sector and stock up on fuel and ammo." Trent sighed. "Honestly, I have no idea if we can make it there. With the extra weight we might have to go there at half speed."

"And we can't afford an extra mouth to feed," said Mott pointedly at Trent.

"Don't be an asshole, Mott." chided Trent.

"Just saying, good deeds cost, Trent. How about we drop him at the nearest fishing facility?"

"You want fuel and supplies?"

"Do we ever," said Trent.

"There's a..." the man seemed to struggle with the word "fffire base, a WHITE fire base, on this planet. I know the... people there. I can arrange for free fuel and supplies if you take me there."

Trent and Mott looked at each other. "Free fuel?" said the Captain. The Acheron hadn't even bothered to top up their propellant tanks after services rendered, and here was a man offering them a full tank for free.

Mott took Trent aside. "I don't like this."

"Free. Fuel." reminded Trent. "For a taxi ride. We _need_ that, badly."

"I know, but the man can barely talk right, let alone give us a set of coordinates!"

That was when the man recited the exact coordinates. Trent went to the cockpit and checked the map. It pointed to a spot in the middle of the northern continent. If someone wanted to build a base there, the place was ideal.

"Huh. How about that," said Trent. The man approached him from behind, and promptly took a seat next to him.

"Make yourself at home," said Trent, not all that happy about anyone sitting in the co-pilot's chair.

"Okay," said the man, apparently oblivious to Trent's tone.

"You know, with all this excitement — rescues, weird cannibal monsters — I forgot to ask you your name."

The man didn't look at Trent when he answered.

"MacReady. Corvin MacReady."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>AIA comm relay report incoming - Distress Signal received - Source: Noveria, Firebase White - Code Red<em>

_Resolving Encryption..._

_Warning, data heavily corrupted._

_Isolating clear audio... done._

_Playback:_

_"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGH"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Karos Wastelands is a sector of space deep within the Terminus systems, called so because the stars within the sector are few and far between, and the planets are bare, poor in resources, and hostile to all forms of life. It was an ideal refuge for pirates and criminals, as few were willing to pursue anyone in there... With the exception of the Vaygr tribes and Turanic pirates, who used it as a proving ground.<p>

Deep within that place a hole was torn open in space, and from that open defiance of all known laws of physics emerged a pyramid, its once pristine silver hull blackened by unknown forces and whispered in the vacuum of space through the opening, whispering promises, pleading for the ship to return...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Pyramid - Control Chamber<strong>_

"We have emerged from the Void," announced Mr. Quick, the navigator.

"Three of our crew have vanished without a trace," calmly reported Mr. Book, the comms officer.

"Where are we?" asked Scholar, as he rubbed his weathered hand, reminding himself that it was still there.

Mr Quick moved around the holographic sphere on his rail-mounted chair, and adjusted the lenses on his mechanical goggles. "We have emerged from the Void in the middle of the Karos Wastelands, deep in the Terminus. It would take weeks for anyone to reach us here using conventional travel, starting from the nearest known Turanic outpost. We are alone."

"Wonderful..." said Scholar, tenting his fingers. There would be no pursuit from Earth or the Council.

"Sir..." said Mr. Quick. "We are actually more than fifty light-years away from our intended destination. It seems our calibrations with Subject Zero—"

"Annah," reminded Scholar.

"... with _Annah_ are off. I do not recommend we attempt another jump through the Void."

"Very well then. Set a course to the nearest core discharge point and then to the nearest populated center." Scholar turned to his second in command. "Mr. Kruger?"

"Sir?" replied the somewhat small man.

"Walk with me."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Can I trust you with something, ?" asked Scholar, as the cage they were in slid across the rails towards the center of the ship.<p>

"Of course."

"Ever since my encounter with Jensen I've felt... smaller." Scholar rubbed the hand Ramsus had cut away, the hand he had used to try and turn Jensen to his cause... _Yes, it is still there! It is still there, and nowhere else!_

"...You seem no less massive than before," Kruger quipped.

"Clever. But you know that's not what I mean. He took something from me, something essential to my skills as a Dream Hacker."

"Did he alter your memories?"

"No, but while I remember the techniques and the skills required for the craft... It feels like I have not practiced them in decades... no, more like I am putting theory to practice for the very first time, like a novice. Do you understand?"

"Your Anima." Kruger realized. "He took a portion of your Anima. How did he do it, if he is not a Reaper?"

"I wish I knew, but from what I've seen this is not the first time he's done this."

Kruger, as Ken Ruger, had not been fooled by Jensen's disguise when he had come into his soda shop days earlier. He had allowed him to go his way, having no real reason to oppose him and secretly hoping that he would be a thorn in Scholar's side (and by God, was he ever). Kruger had not quite realized what Kasumi had brought to him, and now he sorely regretted not examining Jensen's soul a bit further.

There was a presence to it that was heavy, and powerful, and unimaginably ancient, now that he thought back to the encounter. Why had he not capitalized on that chance?

"We must capture him," said Kruger.

"...All in due time," said Scholar, smiling. Kruger got the terrible feeling that Scholar was once again about to waste time on petty revenge. It was a shame, really: Scholar was quite a reasonable man otherwise.

The cage screeched to a halt. They had arrived.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Pyramid Core <strong>_

Annah's room was lavishly decorated with all that an eighteen year old young woman could possibly want in a room, provided said young woman was filthy rich and lived in a victorian manor. Kruger found the room bathed in the golden light of a floating chandelier to be in sharp contrast to the barely lit, dark metal halls of the rest of the pyramid, to say nothing of the fine red silk sheets, flower-patterned wallpaper, silvery sconces, and dark wood rococo furniture inlaid with ivory. Annah herself was sleeping in a veritable round pastry frosted with shimmering red silk garnished with white lace.

She was strangely peaceful, laying ramrod straight in the bed with her hands over her heart, though she looked strange as she was wearing a nightgown over a black and grey, skintight life support suit that covered everything save her head. Tubes plugged to the suit were spread all around the bed, connecting her to ports in the wall.

The defector from the Phantom Society, Elizabeth, was leaning above Annah, intending to plant a kiss on her lips.

"NO." commanded Scholar, his voice nearly booming.

Elizabeth smiled at him coyly. "Sleeping Beauty needs a kiss..." her tone was sing-song.

Scholar narrowed his eyes at her, and she promptly distanced herself from the sleeping woman. "Examine her," said the CEO. Kruger set his suitcase on the bed, opened it, and spread out his tools. After various tests, Kruger gave his diagnosis.

"Still no response to external stimuli, however I've measured a noticeable improvement in her Delta and Gamma wave patterns since the last time I checked... as for the bleeding..."

Kruger took out a piece of gauze from his kit and swabbed a drop of blood that came out of Annah's forehead. "There is no wound any more, and yet the bleeding still won't stop."

"Is this connected to her current state?"

"Possibly."

Scholar approached Annah, and began to whisper to her in a fatherly tone, leaning over her almost as Elizabeth just did. "Annah, speak to me, show me what did this to you..."

Annah seemed like she would not respond, but suddenly her eyes opened wide and Scholar shuddered for a moment.

"Jensen," said Scholar suddenly, as he rose. "He... how DARE he? He _shot_ her!"

"...How is that possible? He was nowhere near—"

"Do not doubt me!" Scholar shouted. "If Annah tells me he is responsible, then he is!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Extraction room<strong>_

The machinery in the extraction room hissed and cracked with electricity as it set about its work on extracting a portion of Scholar's memory. When it was done, Scholar pulled himself away from the bed prodding machinery and produced a small crystal from a dispenser, and handed it to Kruger.

"This is his face," said Scholar. "Have one of our Agents kidnap a girl, something pretty and pitiable and _pathetic_, and implant the memory of him raping her in basement for _weeks_. I want a MEDIA CIRCUS around his crime! I want his reputation, his LIFE destroyed!"

"Perhaps it would be best to focus our efforts on Annah's recovery at the moment?" said Kruger. "And as I understand it, we have burned many bridges when we escaped from Dosadi." Kruger, of course, was referring to the Illuminati Triumvirate. It would have been a simple thing to just tell them that Adam Jensen was now actively working against them; they would have dealt with him quietly. But now that Scholar had openly rebelled against them by stealing Annah, that was no longer an option. Why would they believe him?

"He TOUCHED her, Kruger!" Kruger wasn't certain if it was fatherly rage or a lover's jealousy that fueled Scholar's hate at the moment. "I don't care if he dislodged me from my own Arcology, I don't care if he killed thousands of my avatars! The moment he touched Annah..." Scholar was trembling with pure hatred, now. "I am HER Shaman, Kruger! That means I must ensure that NOBODY fucks with her, and the best way to do that is retribution so great and so savage that NO ONE will ever dare harm her again!"

"S-sir?" said the timid young Mr. Quill, who was hiding in the shadows. "I am afraid I have some bad news."

Scholar turned to him slowly, his hateful gaze boring holes in the young man's skull, who simply handed him a datapad. Scholar read it quickly, and his reaction was unexpectedly calm:

"This... this isn't possible."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Durendal - Observation Deck - Hein's office.<strong>_

Adam crossed the threshold into Hein's office, more than a little annoyed that he now smelt faintly of chocolate.

"I thought for sure you'd at least crack a smile." said Hein, full of mock disappointment. "Everyone loves puppies, and most people love chocolate! Figured that a combination of the two would cheer you right up!"

"Yeah, well, it would take a lot of chocolate to..." Adam began, as he came across a new display in Hein's collection: the very same weapon that Ramsus had claimed from Theodore, the blade that Hannibal and Garrus had used to defeat Hashmal. As he looked upon it, Hein's voice began to slow down to a crawl until it came to a stop, and the colour washed out of the entire room.

Aleph appeared next to the glass case that held the weapon in an invisible field, looking at it pensively, not at all paying attention to Adam.

"What is it?" asked Adam.

"It is a God Eater," said Aleph. "A Gaian weapon, one that was old when I was young..." Aleph reached past the glass as if it wasn't there, and took the weapon out. He felt the weapon's weight in both hands, and let his mechanical fingers caress the entirety of the ridiculously long black ribbon attached to the pommel. As he did so, an eye hidden in the fine detailing of the ivory at the base of the blade opened, its pupil darting around until it settled on Adam. Then, it slowly closed, like a child going back to sleep after being frightened out of bed by a loud noise. "And it has recently eaten its fill of Anima and awaits a master bound to it by blood to wake its full potential. It seems to find you wanting, sadly."

"Consider me disappointed," said Adam sarcastically.

"Don't be," replied Aleph as he put the weapon back into the glass case. "as I now know we won't have to return to Noveria to make sure Hashmal is dead. He is, at the very moment, being slowly digested. This will be a very useful tool against the reapers if we can find someone to master it."

"Who or what was Hashmal, exactly?"

"...The answer lies in a very, VERY long story."

"What else is new?" Adam groaned. "Well, it's going to have to wait: I'm not really keen on getting even more confusing info dumped into my head at the moment."

Aleph nodded. "I understand, but we will have to address your questions and my technical issues eventually..."

Time resumed its pace as Aleph vanished, and Hein popped the cork on a bottle of champagne he produced from his desk. "Come on, sit with me and have a drink. We should be celebrating!"

"Celebrate?" Adam sat down at Hein's desk across from him, but refused the drink the Colonel offered. "Celebrate what? Scholar's escape? Dosadi nearly getting destroyed? The thousands of dead in the wake of the Geth attack, Ramsus included?"

Hein drank his champagne in one long gulp, then let out a satisfied sigh. "Ever heard of a guy named David Xanatos?"

Adam had to think about that one a bit, before finally saying: "No."

"Fictional character from probably the best cartoon series Disney produced: awesome guy, too. A villain, but an awesome villain."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The thing I admired the most about Xanatos? Besides the fact that he had plans within plans for every point of failure in them? Even when he lost, he still managed to win in some way... or at the very least, when he failed in his main objective, he didn't focus so much on what he lost, but what he had gained... and honestly? We gained a lot." Hein produced the Geth's head from a drawer in his desk. "Like this fella, right here! His brain's been filled with more than a few petabytes of EG's highly confidential research data... and a few gigabytes of financial data, which is arguably more valuable. As for Dosadi, well, it's unfortunate, but would things really have been better if the whole place got destroyed? If the Geth captured Annah? Or perhaps let Scholar continue with his experiments?"

"I suppose you make some good points... but nothing stops Scholar from starting somewhere else."

"He can't."

"What makes you so certain?"

"Why did I call you here again? Oh, that's right, there's someone that wants to talk to you..." Hein nonchalantly took out a remote from his longcoat's pocket and pressed a button on it. Without any sort of fanfare, the lights dimmed and a holographic eyeball, with hexagonal shields orbiting around it, appeared above him and then hovered in front of Adam, a polite distance away.

[Cyberpunk 2077 Music - Mike Pondsmith interview theme]

_**"Mr. Jensen. It is an honour to speak with you." **_said the globe, its voice warped and distorted. **"I apologize that I cannot meet you in person, but I am somewhat bound to my office."**

"And you are?"

_**"The Galaxy knows me as the Shadow Broker," **_said the globe, as Hein set up a game of chess. **_"...You seem disappointed."_**

"I... kind of of expected a man in a suit smoking a cigarette in a dark ominous office," said Adam. "Not a floating glowing eyeball."

_**"I find such theatrics to be a waste of time. In any case, I wanted to thank you for your contributions to our cause. Yesterday the Illuminati suffered a terrible blow, and thus, the Reapers."**_

"You knew the Reapers and the Illuminati were connected."

_**"I have always known, because the Reapers have a hand in the corruption of many of the Galaxy's major organizations. The Illuminati is only their most recent conquest."**_

Hein dumped the chess pieces on the board, not bothering to arrange them.

"So what?" asked Adam, his tone incredulous. "The Reapers are behind everything that's wrong with the Galaxy?"

"Hardly," said Hein. "Our world, our galaxy, has been simply plagued by a series of conspiracies, conflicting agendas and petty jealousies." Hein positioned pawns and kings and rooks on the board, and constantly had one take the other. "All building upon, and feeding upon a web of lies and deceit and suffering that all kinds of people, from paupers to princes, get caught up in it every single day." He picked up the white king. "Every player thinks they're this." he chuckled as he tossed the king back into the pile, and held up a white pawn. "While in fact, they're really just this. The Reapers? They watch that tangled mess as it grows, poke and prod at it when they need to, and when it gets big enough..."

Hein swept the board clean of pieces with his arm. "Everything dies."

**_"For the past hundred years,"_ **continued the Shadow Broker**, _"I have been planning towards preventing them from destroying all sapient life in the galaxy, to stop the cyclical insanity that has reset galactic civilizations for millions of years, preventing it from reaching new heights."_**

"And I am somehow essential to that plan?"

_**"Yes."**_

"You realize that I'm just one man and that there is only so much that I can do?"

_**"One man in the right place at the right time can make all the difference, and an overwhelming large organization becomes easily susceptible to corruption. Thanks to your efforts today, we have made more headway into this invisible war than ever before."**_

"How?" asked Adam.

_**"You think Scholar escaping your grasp invalidates everything. The truth is, you won against him the moment you brought the Geth brain to us. The web of intrigue that the Illuminati are so proud of is a double edged sword: Their proxies often don't know who exactly they work for, and the conspirators have not been able to stop rivalries from forming between the organizations they control...**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Galaxy:<strong>_

_In every major WTO enclave, in every majorpopulation center, armed men and women — soldiers of fortune, corporate samurai, private military contractors, and even Shadowrunners — were getting ready to strike their designated targets._

_**"We released valuable morsels of information concerning EG's resources as well as the locations of their little secret projects to their competitors. As I speak, they are, at this very moment, marshalling their private forces and proxies to raid EG bases across the Galaxy."**_

_In every major WTO enclave, in every major population center, Europa Genomics offices came under attack by unknown forces, and violence erupted in the streets as buildings explode under the sustained missile fire of gunships paving the way for the raiders to move in._

_**"EG's more liquid assets are also being targeted by us. Thanks to Conrad's list of contacts from his growing network of freelancers, Scholar's money... will soon be our money."**_

_Cobra Jack, the leader of a rag tag team of the most delightful bunch of misfits that ever ran the shadows of Omega, ran interference along with Glory, a fellow Martian Cyborg. Jack dealt with the Manticore mechs with his high-frequency palm strikes (and when that didn't do, the high-frequency chainsaw built into his arm certainly did), while Glory slashed their contractors with her clawed cyberarms. Eiger, their Roegadyn weapons specialist, just killed a Manticore sniper with her Widow just as he was about to perforate Blitz's head._

_"I almost got it!" shouted Blitz as he worked the controls of his Omni-Tool, running multiple hacking programs at once to extract the bank account data from their datastore. There were times he wished he could dive into cyberspace... "And done! We got the goods!"_

_"Dietrich!" shouted Cobra Jack into the communicator set into the lapels of his red leather jacket. He even managed to keep his cigar in his mouth. "Time for a timely exit!"_

_Little did they know, many others like them were pulling off similar heists in other parts of civilized space._

_**"After they get their cut, of course. And there are thousands of people like them. Some are looking for their fortune, others are genuinely trying to make a difference, but all can be counted upon to answer your call. So, in response to your earlier statement... yes, you are only one man..."**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Pyramid, Extraction Chamber:<strong>_

Scholar sat down on the extraction bed, staring at nothing, and summed up what the datapad relayed to him with a voice on the verge of breaking:

"I'm... I'm ruined."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"...But you are not alone."<strong>_

Adam was unmoved. "I hear a great deal about how EG got fucked, that's great, but it seems to me that the Illuminati's proxies get to pick the bones off of EG and become stronger for it."

"Trust me, there won't be much to pick apart," said Hein. "And they'll all waste considerable resources trying to one-up each other."

"But you gave them data on—"

"We gave them pieces, nothing more, and they won't cooperate to put them together, as they'll all feign ignorance of their part in the raids."

**"And most importantly of all," **added the Shadow Broker,** "you killed Tartakovsky, one of their few experts on psionics."**

"Tartakovsky was trying to pull away from EG, tried to unify the Omar..."

**"And the Illuminati would have gotten their hands on his research, one way or another. That research might have allowed them to produce many more people like Ramsus, or make the few they do have even more powerful. And the Phantom Society — another Illuminati proxy group — is now missing one of its agents while another has gone rogue."**

"And bonus points for pushing Scholar out of his little playground," said Hein. "Without him around and Upper Dosadi in ruins, the Illuminati won't be able to use Dosadi to breed Reapers for their own ends."

**"And make no mistake, we will be keeping an eye out for Scholar, and I promise you he will not be able to escape you then."**

"So, now what?"

"Now?" Hein smiled. "While the Illuminati go 'what the fuck', we look to the past generations of Prometheans that fought the Reapers and learn what they did wrong, or grasp some more of their technology to help us prepare the galaxy for the their coming."

"You want me to help with poking around more ruins?"

"As per our deal, yes, but also... I want you to speak with Aleph on our behalf?"

"Why?"

"He's focused on you, and only you, but we have dire need of his guidance and technology. Sadly, he's managed to shut me out. I can't use a Dream Catcher system on you any more. He keeps scrambling it."

"Well," Adam crossed his arms, "Maybe he has his reasons of being suspicious of you."

"Maybe, but he'll have to trust someone. And if you can't convince him, well... maybe Manah could. She's been dying to open up a dialogue with Aleph for the past couple of days, now."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with that idea."

**"In the end it is your decision," **said the Broker,** "and Aleph is right to fear anyone misusing his knowledge, but there are gaps in our data concerning the previous cycles, many things we believe to be true may in fact be false, and we will make terrible mistakes unless he works with us. One way or another, you MUST convince him." **Without so much as a goodbye, the eyeball winked out of existence and the room's lighting brightened.

"No pressure, or anything," quipped Hein.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"NO!" screamed Scholar, raging in the halls of the pyramid, each step filled with furious purpose. "I REFUSE to accept this!"<p>

"I-I I'm sorry," Mr. Quill stammered, "but the reports don't lie! The company's resources dwindle with every update we receive! Soon, you won't even have enough money to pay your employees!"

"And soon your lawyers will no doubt jump ship," said Kruger, trying not to smirk. "I am afraid your smear campaign is on hold."

"Let them jump!" dismissed Scholar, "I don't need them! I can still have my REVENGE!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Pyramid - Leonardo room.<strong>_

In the center of a laboratory, tended to by a multitude of loyal technicians in their dark biomechanical robes, was a ring. On the inside of that ring there was a man, bound to it by thick metal shackles enhanced by mass effect fields, holding his body in a spread eagle position. His skin was covered in a layer of sinew beneath plates of gleaming black chitin.

"Mr. Liston!" bellowed Scholar, and the sound of a cane tapping the ground echoed through the room as Mr. Liston, a hunched over old man close to a hundred years old, approached his master. He was a thin, frail thing sustained by replacement organs provided by Scholar's biotech engineers, but for some reason did not ask to have his entire body rejuvenated. Kruger thought Liston _liked_ playing the part of an elderly mad scientist.

His Romanian accent certainly lent weight to that theory.

"Ah, Mr. Scholar." Liston smiled, forming a wrinkled crescent of yellowing teeth between his gaunt cheeks. "So good of you to join us."

"How is our experiment faring?"

Mr. Liston looked back at the man strapped to the ring. "Far beyond expectations. The Leonardo Machine repaired the damage to the subject's chest and bone structure, and even with those terrible wounds it handled the seed implants and their growth admirably. I... had a moment of inspiration and decided to expose it to the Void." Liston eagerly took a deep breath. "The results were intriguing! Cell growth was multiplied by a factor of five, creating the nanocarbon-infused chitin shell you see before you in minutes and altering the internal organs within hours. Most notably, its energy storage cells' capacity has increased by 150 percent!"

"And his power?"

"Easily as strong as a Wanzer... and more than equal to the impressive specifications you sent me earlier... though exact numbers will require some field testing."

"Perfect..." said Scholar as he approached the experiment. He was inches from its eyeless face, admiring the almost insectoid features, lined and seams of the chitin plates. "Does that faceplate open?"

Mr. Liston nodded and motioned at one of his assistants at a workstation. After a couple of button presses, the subject's helmet snapped open, revealing a sickly pale, veined face. The subject's eyes snapped open, and a croaking came out of its scarred mouth.

"Hello, Hayden," said Scholar. "Do you remember me?"

Hayden replied with a wheeze.

"Hmph, are his lungs compromised?"

"He's merely getting used to his new ones," reassured Mr. Liston.

Scholar turned his attention back to Hayden, and looked him straight in milky eyes filled with a rage quieted by a continuous supply of drugs. "I'm not happy with this either, Hayden. I wanted you replaced, after all... But it seems you'll serve as my instrument of retribution." Scholar turned to Kruger and gave him the memory shard. "Give him this along with a Corporate Samurai package. I want him completely devoted to the cause of KILLING JENSEN and BRINGING ME HIS CORPSE."

"As you wish, sir," said Kruger with a bow. Scholar was about to leave him to his task, before remembering something.

"Oh, and use the _injection_ method. It lasts _much_ longer, and there's no telling how long Draven will be away..." He turned to Mr. Quill. "And you? Ready a small ship. He'll be needing one."

Kruger nodded, and commanded the technicians to have Draven moved to his lab.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kruger's Lab:<strong>_

A few years ago Scholar had assigned Kruger to explore the more less than legal commercial applications to Arcadia's technology. As the saying went: "The street finds its uses for things." This was no less true for the advanced Dream Catcher technology Scholar was pioneering. Kruger's task was to control and monitor how the street reacted to it, and along the way he had managed to create the entire Dream Hacker subculture, one that had managed to make its way to Earth.

It was during those days that he had been approached by a man seeking to forget the torment of seeing his wife raped and murdered by Manticore goons. There would be no justice for that terrible crime, Kruger had known, and so he had turned an out of work actor with aspirations to become an action star into an agent of vengeance.

"Mr. Draven..." whispered Kruger as he loomed over Draven, once he was certain nobody was eavesdropping. "I am... so sorry about what happened to you. Once you had your revenge, I believed that would be the end of it, but I greatly underestimated Scholar's sense of practicality when he turned you into his attack dog."

Kruger prepared the injector gun, its vial filled with a glowing pale green liquid: distilled memories, a rich tapestry of dedicated training, discipline, and corporate indoctrination.

"I cannot free you from his grasp, not yet, as he will no doubt check my work. You must go through this waking nightmare for a while longer, but I can give you something that will eventually awaken you, Draven... a piece of a puzzle that your mind will resolve once enough pressure is applied."

Kruger took out a black vial from a small wooden box, and jammed the needle through the cork, extracting a fluid that was mixed into the gun's glass tank. The liquid inside of it turned from pale green to bright red.

"And when you do... it is important that you do the right thing."

Kruger was just about to jam the needle into Draven's forehead when the broken man croaked something out: "Please, don't do this..."

The Dream Hacker hesitated for a moment. "I am sorry, Mr. Draven, so very sorry... but I cannot."

_"...Please..." _Draven pleaded with his milk-white eyes._ "Don't take her from me again..."_

"I'm sorry," said Kruger. "But in this game, I need a pawn of my own."

The needle pierced Draven's skull, despite his tearful protests. He struggled against his restraints, tried to shake off the foreign object, but his body wouldn't obey. His spirit fared no better: No matter how small a corner of his mind he tried to hide in, no matter how tiny a precious memory he tried to hide... the fluid found it, and twisted it.

The ghosts of his family and loved ones vanished as he experienced an entire lifetime in dreams. The former Alliance marine and would-be action star was replaced with a Corporate Samurai loyal to EG by the name of Kai Leng, whose master, Johnathan Scholar, had recently suffered an unjust, dishonourable assault on his entire company, and the man responsible was none other than the man who had raped and killed his wife so long ago.

Adam Jensen.

* * *

><p><em>"I love you..."<em>

_"Say it again..."_

* * *

><p>Yes...<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Will you marry me?"<em>

* * *

><p>He would kill Adam Jensen.<p>

* * *

><p><em>"Don't look... please don't look..."<em>

* * *

><p><strong>He would kill Adam Jensen!<strong>

* * *

><p><em>"Abashed, the Devil stood..."<em>

* * *

><p><em><strong>"I WILL KILL HIIIIIM!" <strong>_

Kai Leng's maddened roar echoed across the ship. In his chair, with fingers tented over his chest, Scholar smiled.

_I knew Kruger would not disappoint me, _he thought.

_**~[h+]~**_


	48. Interlude 2: Stillborn

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Interlude 2:

**Stillborn**

Leto Valerius is voiced by Kevin McKidd

Titus Sidonus is voiced by Ray Stevenson

Marcia Atreus is voiced by Natalie Dormer

Primarch Augustus is voiced by Ciarán Hinds

General Gallienus is voiced by Michael Shannon

Thaddeus is voiced by Gary Oldman

Livilla is voiced by Michelle Fairley

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Wealth is Worthless in the Day of Wrath..." - Proverbs 11:4<strong>_

_The Planet Palaven. _

_On the far east of its main continent there is a city called Antioch, and it has been at war with itself for a very long time. Throughout its six-thousand years of history, it was always a point through which vast wealth flowed through, as it was built on the coast, at an ideal point to receive foreign trade. The advent of powered flight, however, had altered its fortunes a great deal, creating a wider gap between the rich and the poor. _

_Still, the surrounding land was rich in medicinal plants (Raffia being the most precious) and mushrooms, and Antioch was the one place where they could be processed best. Of course, what is medicinal can easily be made recreational, and Antioch became infamous as a wretched hive filled with junkies, pushers, and drug barons. A criminal underclass, born from war veterans and desperate young people, took root in the city, and the people lived in constant fear. The police, undermanned, underfunded, and corrupted from within, was not in any position to stop the poison from spreading across all of Palaven let alone its own city._

_That is until the Archangel appeared._

_Seemingly more a spirit than a man, Archangel began a campaign in the shadows to fight crime in ways the police could not. People became less afraid, and public servants were becoming more willing to speak out against corruption. As if reacting to the presence of the Archangel, the dark depths of Antioch produced men and women of such evil and power to oppose him. They struggled against one other for a decade, until the Longest Night came, the night when Archangel _won_._

Winter, 2152

_Antioch was on fire._

_The attack began on a snowy night at the Valerius family manor by the Plaguebringer, a Quarian serial killer obsessed with spreading disease. He had been the first to die._

_The others: Stoneskin, Firestarter, The Serpent, Shadowblade, Farsight... all had escaped prison and combined their forces, attacking simultaneous targets across the city, overwhelming both the police and Archangel himself. Archangel singled each of them out for assassination, assisting officers in need of help along the way. After six gruelling hours, the crimelords were dead, and their thugs had become disorganized enough to be beaten back by the police, until the Magnate managed to bring every able criminal on his payroll..._

The Magnate had thought the plan was perfect: Overwhelm Archangel, have Stoneskin finish him off when he was exhausted, and become the sole power in the demimonde. Unfortunately that idiotic, juiced up, insane Elcor just HAD to be the first to engage him and die.

"Hurry up!" the Magnate barked at his driver.

"Can't go any — ah, crap! Barricade!"

"Drive right through!"

The golden armoured van bashed right through the two police cars, and under his suit the Volus crime lord smiled. He always spent his money well, and that car had proven to be a fine investment thus far.

Then he heard the roar of a motorcycle, and realized that maybe he shouldn't have skimped on those engine upgrades. Being able to fly would be pretty useful right about now.

"Is that him?!" The driver looked into his rearview monitor and instantly recognized the look of the gigantic armoured motorcycle that bore Archangel's colours: Dark blue and Silver. It was banged up bad, but its engines were still screaming fury. "Oh, spirits! It IS him!"

"Keep driving!" said the huge Volus as he loaded his arm-mounted coin launchers. "I'll slow him down!" He kicked the rear doors open, and let loose clusters of platinum coins at high velocity while his goons flanked him and fired their SMGs. The bike's already battered armor absorbed the projectiles, but the Magnate was undeterred. "Ha! Out of shields, asshole?!"

The Magnate reloaded and fired again, forcing Archangel to dodge and weave, preventing him from catching up.

"We're almost there!" screamed the driver. "Just one more minute!"

One more minute. One more minute and the Magnate would be back at his hideout, surrounded by his men. The plan could still work. He could still become the kingpin of all Antioch!

The bike grazed a wreck, and the Magnate took advantage of Archangel's attempts at keeping his vehicle stable to score a few successful hits. Sensing victory, he then primed and threw an explosive grenade wrapped in coins. The blast managed to pierce the front armour and bury the expensive shrapnel into the front wheel, sending Archangel on an unstable collision course with a fire hydrant. The impact sent the vehicle flying, and Archangel fired dozens of built-in small jets in an attempt to recover, but it was useless: they were out of propellant. The bike rolled on its side, bounced around, and crashed into a store.

"We're here! We made it!" shouted the driver as they crossed the gate into the abandoned sewage plant. The Magnate was using it as a temporary base of operations

As the car came to a stop the Magnate disembarked from the van and barked orders at his men waiting outside. Archangel's ride had crashed, but the Magnate hadn't seen a body. He sent out a few men to investigate the wreck, and told the rest to be on high alert. He then took refuge inside, confident that his many, many traps would finally finish off Archangel.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It had all been for nothing. The traps, the goons, the guns, the escape plans... the money. Archangel was no longer Turian: he had become a man possessed by evil spirits, as the locals would say. When he was outnumbered and outmatched he was quiet. When he was found he became relentless. When his gadgets ran out he used his guns. When his two heavy pistols ran out of bullets, he used them as clubs. He never stopped, not once, not even when it looked like the Magnate was about to get away in his small escape pod.<p>

When that golden sphere took off, Archangel leapt on it and forced it to crash by the riverside.

The Magnate stumbled out, and activated the built in skates in his boots. It was pointless: the blasted things didn't work on uneven soil. He fell, exhausted, and tried to crawl away.

"Ah... and I almost had you, too."

"Yes, you almost did." said Archangel kicked him in the stomach.

"Oof!"

"I figured out your plan when your men tried to keep Stoneskin contained in a cryo-pod. I thought it would be best to deal with him first instead of last."

The Magnate looked up at his pursuer. His scorched and dented armour gleamed a silvery white over a burnt and warped dark blue underlay. His blue helmet, as always, bore the silver figurehead of the Archangel — a damnable, nocturnal bird — in the middle of an eyeless faceplate. The fallen Volus, tired, hurt, and out of money, began to laugh ruefully. "Ah... Ah, I was so close this time." He sucked in air through his mask filter. "So close to having it all, Archie! But you just wouldn't quit, would you? Oh well... better luck next time, eh?"

Archangel reloaded one of his Mongoose pistols.

"H-Hey now! I'm unarmed! I surrender!"

Archangel aimed his gun right between the Magnate's eyes.

"You... You always had that one rule! Why?! Why now after so many years?!"

After a moment, Archangel's helmet seal hissed open, and he removed the cumbersome headpiece to reveal his face. The dark blue skin tone, fierce features and yellow eyes were unmistakable, despite the ten streaks of white paint that formed wings across his face.

"...Valerius? Leto Valerius?! That's... you're nothing but an Archon, a weak bureaucrat and..." the Magnate's throat seized as he put two and two together. "The Manor — Plaguebearer! Wait!"

Leto shot the Magnate in the knee, piercing the enviro-suit's kneepad. Breathing gas hissed out of the hole. "You tried to kill my son."

"It wasn't personal! Plaguebearer was supposed to kill everyone there!"

Another kneecap. "You tried to kill my SON."

The Magnate screamed in agony.

The belly came next. "YOU TRIED TO KILL MY SON!"

"AAAAAARRRGH...ah... ha ha! ahahaha AHAHAH!... Oh, I this is just so RICH!"

Archangel took aim at the Magnate's head.

"You..." the Magnate continued. "The thousands of people you killed by letting us live. Can you imagine? And not ONCE do you even consider ending us all..." he coughed and wheezed. "You _always_ stuck by your rule... but then we threaten your blood, and all your _morals_ went out the window. Is THAT all—"

The bullet pierced the Volus' helmet, taking an important chunk of brain on its way out, and the Magnate was no more.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Bedridden, Marcia Atreus looked out of the window of her room, and thought that one could be forgiven for mistaking the burning Antioch skyline for the coming of the dawn. Eventually the flames would die out, either by starvation or by the hoses of firemen.<p>

The sickness in her was gone. The cure that her Beloved had prepared for the entire city had done its work, but marks had been left on her health. She felt a bit weak, and tired, but nothing would prevent her from bonding with the bundle of joy in her arms. She fed him one of her cakes, and watched as he learned to make use of his small fangs to break it apart.

Marcia felt someone enter the room without her permission, and reached for the knife under her pillow... then, realizing who it was, she calmed herself down.

"Beloved?" she asked in the dark.

"Yes," whispered Leto as he stepped out of the shadows. "It's me." He came over the side of Marcia's bed, turned on the lamp on the nightstand, and for the first time ever laid eyes on his son. Leto leaned over and scratched his brow, and the baby cooed and chirped happily, unafraid of the tall, powerful but battered figure looming over him.

"He's hatched..." said Leto, sadly. He had not wanted to miss it, but his old enemies had called, and he had answered.

"There was no helping it, the shell was cracked..." said Marcia.

"Is he...?"

Marcia shook her head. "He's fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring, "a perfectly healthy baby boy."

Leto smiled, relieved. "Good... that's good. He has your eyes, and your fair skin."

"And he has your nose, and his crest will be long. In the end, he will take more after you than I."

The baby cooed louder as he reached, smiling, for the helmet that Leto was carrying at his side.

"That's... that's not for you," said Leto, both amused and horrified at once. He put the helmet on the nightstand, out of his son's reach. _Never_, he thought. _My son will not walk into the dark as I did. _

"Have you thought of a name?" he asked Marcia.

"I thought we should name him after your grandfather."

"Brutus? Are you certain?"

"It's a fine name, and you know it."

Leto put his hand on his son's forehead, and knew that Marcia was right. "So be it." He looked at his son straight in the eye, and said: "From this day forth you are Brutus of the house of Valerius, my first born son."

It was then that the sun emerged from the skyline, and its rays came through the windows. On this night, Leto had made a terrible sacrifice so that his son could be safe from harm, could be raised in a city without fear of losing everything to a thug with a gun. And now, it was the start of a brand new day.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After repairing his equipment, Leto put the suit away, intending to never don it again. He had other ways to preserve the piece. He was both Archon of Antioch and the owner of a very prosperous corporation that was growing every year.<p>

"I refuse to accept this!" said Titus as the steel closet closed over the suit. His deep voice echoed throughout the entire crypt and the catacombs that led to it.

Titus Sidonus, the chief of the Valerius manor's security, had been a stalwart companion to Leto since their days in the 13th Armiger legion, and the first to be in on the secret behind the Archangel. A giant of a Turian, clad in bright orange Havoc armour, he was a man governed more by his heart than his mind. "The city will still have need of Archangel! What if another madman comes along, who will save everyone from him?!"

"I have seen to it that the Antioch police force is more than capable of handling another."

"You know as well as I do that they won't be able to do a damned thing!"

"Enough, Titus. I have made up my mind — Archangel is no more. Let him be buried here among the dead forever."

"Is this because you're getting slower?!"

Leto couldn't deny that this was a factor in his decision. He was no longer as fit as he once was, and the gene mods had not helped in keeping that edge. But no, that was not why.

"Let me take up the mantle!" Titus pleaded.

"The last time, it was a disaster. No, old friend. My mind is made up."

"Then let us train another!"

Leto refused to argue the point any more, and shut the lights to the forgotten tomb.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Spring 2157<strong>_

The first time Brutus saw his mother put on her face markings, he tugged at her dress, asking her why she was putting stuff on her face. She sat him on her knee, and had him face the mirror as she explained the significance of the marks: in ancient times, it was customary for a turian to bear the symbols of his group upon his face, whether he belonged to a religious order, a clan of warriors, or a Great House.

"Our house is really big!" exclaimed Brutus. "Does that mean I have to wear marks too?"

"That you do, but these days, you only need to bear the marks of your planet."

"My marks... belong to an old temple far to the south," she explained, pointing at the pale blue petals on her cheeks and nose. "It was my home," she said sadly.

"Can we go there one day?"

"...I'm afraid not, child. It is gone, long gone."

Marcia changed the subject by trying to teach Brutus to put on the marks of his father: the little boy made a mess of it, and it took a few more tries before he finally got it mostly right. She laughed as he stared at his hands, covered in white paint.

"Hm, white paint blends a little too well with the color of your skin. Perhaps dark blue?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>When Brutus found the passage, he believed that he had found a dungeon filled with treasure, like in the stories that uncle Titus told him, and did not hesitate to go explore it. He was smart enough to take a flashlight, and a bag of fried <em>Pirum<em> to take as provisions, but not quite smart enough to check the charge on the tiny battery. By the time he reached the center of the maze, all Brutus had to light his way was the glow of moss that clung to the walls. He had run out of food an hour ago, and tears welled up in his eyes when he realized that he was completely lost, and that he might very well never see his mommy and daddy and uncle ever again.

That was when he fell into a deep place and hurt his leg. The pain was unimaginable, and he cried out to his parents for hours, but no one answered him. He tried to walk away from this place, but tripped on something hollow. The noises echoed throughout the crypt, and woke something that nested there.

At first the creatures made their presence known through a chorus of screeches, followed by the beating of the wind. Brutus could feel small blasts of air, hundreds of them, all around him. He made himself small, hoping that whatever it was attacking him would see he wasn't a threat and would go away.

And that's when the luminescent feathers on the Archangels' wings began to glow, scarring the darkness, making light and shadow dance on the cracked walls and the broken bones of Brutus' ancestors. Brutus cried and screamed at the sight, the unmistakable wingspan of the Archangels flashing before his eyes, burning into the depths of his tiny blue eyes.

There was a noise that cut through the screeching, and the swarm of birds wrapped themselves around a looming dark figure that held a torch that burned with a blue light. Brutus closed his eyes, thinking the figure some kind of monster.

**"BRUTUS."** it said.

The turian boy made himself even smaller.

**"IT'S ME,"** said the monster as the swarm parted, the glowing birds retreating into the depths of the catacombs. Brutus' mind, however, was seized with panic, and when the monster grabbed him he struggled and scratched and kicked in a desperate effort to be free. The lights flickered on, and the monster became his father.

"It's me!..." said Leto, as he shut down his sonic device. Brutus was overcome with relief when he realized his mistake.

"Dad?..."

"Don't be afraid, Brutus. I'm going to take us home."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was almost dusk when Leto emerged from the catacombs, carrying a trembling Brutus in his arms. Titus followed closely behind, as always.<p>

"Oh, spirits!" Marcia rushed towards her son, nearly mad with worry. "Is he alright?!"

"Scared out his wits," replied Leto, " and his ankle is sprained, but otherwise he's fine."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Morning had come, and Brutus had not slept well, as he had kept his light on throughout the night. Leto visited him to check on the bandage around his ankle.<p>

"Your mother does fine work," he said. "You'll be up and about in no time."

"Dad?" asked Brutus. "What were those things in the cave?"

"Archangels," replied Leto, "Nocturnal hawks." Then, remembering that Brutus was only five, he added: "Birds that live in the dark."

"What were they doing there?"

"They live there."

"...Can you make them go away? Forever?"

"No, I will not," said Leto, firmly. "Brutus, our family has had a flock of Archangels living in these tunnels for a hundred generations, as they are the symbol of our House, our family."

"But they scare me!"

"And _you_ scared _them_. You intruded into their home, uninvited, threatening to destroy their eggs as you wandered blindly. Tell me, what would you have done, in their place?"

Brutus stared at his belly. "I don't know..."

Leto lay a hand on his son's shoulder. "That's fine. One day, when you're older, you'll figure out the answer."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A few days later, the bandage had come off, and the pain in Brutus' ankle was gone. After a nice breakfast, Marcia called Brutus to a circular chamber he had never been to before. She sat cross-legged in the middle, meditating on a pendant. She was dressed in blue silks and silver rings, like in the pictures of ancient priestesses in the encyclopedia.<p>

"Sit," she requested, pointing at a pillow across from her. As he obeyed, she asked: "Have you been sleeping with your light on?" Her tone, as always, was soft, but mixed with a bit of worry.

Brutus nodded. "The dark scares me."

"Of course it does. All creatures feel fear, especially the dark, for there are many things that dwell there that mean us harm."

"Like Archangels?"

"No, not Archangels. If anything, you should admire them: for they cast a light into the dark places."

"I still don't like them."

"I know." she replied meaningfully. "But Brutus? Do you know what separates a Turian from an animal?"

Brutus thought about the question a bit, then answered: "We can talk?"

Marcia laughed. "True, and that is close enough to the right answer: It is the _mind_, Brutus," she tapped the side of her forehead. "And unless it can control fear, fear inevitably controls it."

"What do you mean?"

"Did you ever think about NOT turning your night light on?"

"...No."

"Why?"

"Because I'm afraid to."

"_Exactly_. Brutus, in the temple that was my home, we learned very young a Way to control ourselves, and the first of these lessons is a way to breathe with a certain rhythm. Every day, at the same time, you will come here, and I will show you this Way, until you learn."

"Learn what?"

"To not be afraid. Now, pay attention to the sound of my breath, and imitate it as best you can..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"The news!" shouted Titus as he burst into the living room. Leto, Marcia and Brutus turned to him, a bit shocked and confused at his entrance.<p>

"The news! The news!" shouted Titus, "Why are you not watching the news?!"

"Calm yourself!" ordered Leto.

Brutus picked up the remote and activated the holoscreen projector set above the foyer. The cartoon channel was overridden by the news service, which showed a warship being towed into a dock.

"Rewind," commanded Leto, and the computer reset the livestream back to the beginning.

_"The Relay 314 Incident has taken a turn for the tragic: The 5th Patrol fleet and the 17th Support fleet went silent not four days ago, and news of their fate has only reached us now: The scout frigate _Pandionidae _has just returned to Turian space, and from the accounts of the surviving crew and soldiers, both fleets and their marines have been completely massacred by a superior force."_

"How many ships were in those fleets?" asked Marcia.

"600 in the 5th," replied Titus. "150 in the 17th."

Marcia became horrified. They had all been destroyed _save one._ "Oh, spirits!"

The news shifted to a reporter trying to ask questions to a wounded marine being carted off to an ambulance shuttle. _"Marine?"_ asked the reporter. _"Can you tell us anything more as to what happened?"_

_"Titans!"_ screamed the Marine, as the medics tried to keep him under control. _"The humans! They have TITANS on their side! Don't let them land! DON'T LET THEM LAND!"_

Marcia picked up Brutus and carried him out of the room, not wanting him to see any more. Leto watched them leave, and looked back at the holo-screen.

"Total War," said Titus. "The Primarch and the generals will be making the call to arms soon."

"I know."

"This is going to be big, Leto. The first major war since the Krogan Rebellions — think about it, Brutus may very well have the chance to become a general, should it last as long!"

"I know... and that is why as Archon, I will declare Antioch a quarantine zone."

"...What?!"

"I MUST stop this, Titus. My son will NOT grow up to see Palaven ravaged by war!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It had worked, at least thus far.<p>

Leto was now standing before the steps of the _Curia_, in the middle of the capital of the Turian Hierarchy: Cipritine. He picked Brutus up, and pointed at the vast dome.

"Do you see that, my son?" asked Leto. "This is the very heart of the Turian Hierarchy. There, decisions are made that affect billions of people."

"What's a 'billions'?" asked Brutus as his father carried him up the steps. His mother walked besides them, while Titus and the two guards followed close behind.

"See those steps, and how many there are?"

Brutus nodded.

"Well," continued Leto. "It's a whole lot more than that."

"Are you going to work there?"

"Ah, no... you see, daddy did some things that the people that do work there are not happy with, and I have been called here to explain myself."

"...Are you in trouble?" As Brutus asked this, Marcia's expression became a bit sullen, and Brutus understood that he was right.

"Of course not, son," Leto lied.

But he was indeed in a whole lot of trouble. He had denied the growing war effort hundreds of thousands of soldiers, not to mention a great deal of medical resources. Odds were good that his superiors would have him executed on the spot. Still, he did have the right to explain himself, and in that moment perhaps he could buy valuable time. Time for heads to cool, time for the Generals to perhaps see reason. Arterius had invaded an entire world, and these 'humans' were defending their people. To call Total War for them having the audacity to _win_, Leto believed, was the height of hypocrisy, and the rest of the galaxy would no doubt condemn the Hierarchy for it. Total war would only make things worse for everyone.

They arrived at the main atrium, and at the center of it was a stone statue of a winged turian holding a greatsword with both hands, the tip aimed at the glass ceiling.

"Aequitas," said Titus with reverence. He took a knee, and muttered a silent prayer to the Titan of Law.

Leto handed Brutus over to Marcia, as two guards came to meet him. "Wait for me here, I won't be long."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Do you know why you're here?" asked General Gallienus, the black sunburst accentuating the frown on his grey face. The veteran soldier emitted a harsh aura of command, made stronger by the dark red of his dress uniform that contrasted sharply with Leto's own blue doublet. Gallienus bore more than a few medals on his chest, the milestones of a long career in the military.<p>

Leto had caught sight of him before in the atrium, speaking to a group of Volus. _What business did they have together?_ he wondered. _Especially now at such a critical moment in our history._

Valerius and Gallienus stood in the center of an amphitheatre designed to seat three hundred generals and praetors in total. Looming above them on a podium stood Primarch Augustus, presiding over this session.

"I—"

The General did not allow him to speak. "You are here because you've single-handedly managed to deny the Hierarchy a valuable source of food and medical supplies, over a million able-bodied potential conscripts, and fifty-thousand career soldiers stationed there. You are here because you danced circles around your magistrate, who has come to us in desperation to resolve the situation. You are HERE, _Archon_ Valerius..." Gallenius put a very strong emphasis on Archon, reminding Valerius where he stood in the chain of command, especially here. "...so that we can order you to lift your quarantine order!"

Valerius took a deep breath. "I refuse."

Murmurs and whispers echoed through the meeting chamber. Archon did not disobey Generals. It was not done. Gallienus was obviously offended by Valerius' disobedience, but managed to keep his calm.

Barely.

"I see," said the General. "Then by the power invested in me by the Hierarchy—"

"Hold." All turned to the Primarch, who had been silent until this very point. "Archon Valerius has the right to explain himself before this council. Let him speak."

"Thank you, Primarch," said Leto, bowing his head. "The truth of the matter is that there is no outbreak. I quarantined Antioch to protest the coming war."

"This is treason!" shouted Gallienus. "And he even admits it!"

"If it is treason to try and stop the Hierarchy from being dragged down by General Arterius' own folly, then yes, I am a traitor! Declaring Total War on a race that has, so far, only defended its borders will ruin us all!"

"These humans went far and above the call of 'self-defence'! They wiped out a peacekeeping force!"

"Peacekeeping?! It was conquest, pure and simple, and the incident at the Relay was but an excuse for Arterius to seek glory! Did this council give him a mandate to expand our borders?!" Leto's tone was almost accusatory.

"No such Mandate has been granted since the days of the Empire!" shouted a Praetor.

Gallienus redirected the argument. "It doesn't matter! The fact remains that these humans massacred thousands of our people! Should we allow this crime to go unpunished?!"

"It DOES matter! Arterius has made us the _aggressors_ in this conflict, and the other nations of the galaxy know it! And what of the colonies?! The Hierarchy's hold on them grows tenuous, and the separatist movement may use this war as an opportunity to strike at us!"

"Our forces are large enough to deal with both threats at once!"

"And even if we win, what then? The humans have demonstrated a clear ability of striking sideways on par with the Salarians! They'll strike at our supply lines first, and what will happen when we push them too far? Our planets, our very homes will suffer the consequences!"

"It is not the place of an Archon to argue war strategy with his superiors!"

"It may not be my right, but it is obvious to me now that the Hierarchy needed me to! How much thought has been put into strategy beyond 'overwhelm and obliterate'?!"

"Far too little!" shouted Adrien Victus. Gallienus had thought the man would have been a non-issue, as the young general had recently been promoted and had a strong dislike for politics. And yet, there he was... "I've analysed our intel on these human forces! Not only would our worlds be at risk, but we've yet to come up with any tactics to counter their own!"

"So you too, would BEG for peace and leave the fifth fleet unavenged?!" shouted Gallienus in response, his voice filled with outrage.

"I recommend patience! There is so much about the humans that we don't understand! To engage an enemy we know almost nothing about and _without a strategy_ is tantamount to suicide!"

Arguments exploded all around the Amphitheatre, and Primarch Augustus watched over it all. After a few moments, he called the council to be silent. "I have made my decision. In light of arguments recently presented to me, I hereby deny Gallienus' call for immediate Total War—"

"NO!" Gallienus was furious. "We MUST strike now before—"

Augustus' once a commander of men, shouted him down with a booming voice. "YOUR PRIMARCH IS SPEAKING, _GENERAL_." He paused, further reminding Gallienus of his position with a cold, hard glare. The general looked around at all gathered in the Amphitheatre, looking for something... and then bowed his head. Augustus continued: "I deny it for NOW, but considering the situation Arterius has brought us into, I hereby order all Praetors and Generals present here to go and fortify key positions across the sectors that lead to human space, as war may still be upon us whether we wish it or not. We will reconvene in one week, time we can use to formulate a proper strategy while the Frumentarii do their work. General Gallienus?"

"Sir?"

"Your fleet will stay here along with Praetor Artanis' to defend Palaven in the unlikely event that the humans somehow make their way here."

Leto had thought that being appointed to defend the homeworld would be considered an honor, but it was obvious to him that Gallienus was not happy with this at all. "...I obey," said the General, finally.

"We obey," resounded the generals and praetors gathered.

"Now, before we adjourn, Archon Valerius? You are hereby ordered to lift the quarantine order on your province, and submit to punishment for your blatant abuse of power."

"I obey, and accept punishment."

"Good. guards!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It had been a week before the guards came to take him out of his cell. They returned to him his clothes and personal effects, and told him to report to the main entrance.<p>

Waiting for him there was none other the Primarch, flanked by two guardsmen.

"Walk with me," he said, motioning at Leto to follow him outside.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"There will be no war," said Augustus as they walked on the old seaport's walkway. It was midday, and the sun shone brightly as birds flew overhead. "The Citadel Council intervened 3 days ago, and have begun to forge proper diplomatic channels between us and Earth."<p>

"Earth?"

"The name of the human homeworld. Hostilities have stalled for now, but it is as you said: The humans were defending themselves from what they thought was an invasion, and for all intents and purposes Desolas Arterius' crimes have caused them to descend upon him like vengeful devils. These crimes are now on us, and Total War would have soured our diplomatic relationships irreparably."

"It still baffles me how the generals failed to have foreseen this."

"They're soldiers, through and through. The Praetors, less so, but still soldiers at heart. Gallienus is a good speaker and he managed to sway the entire council towards retribution. I would have overruled them all, but..."

"...But with such a majority in favour of Total War, Gallienus would have called for a veto... and your dismissal."

"_Exactly_. But thanks to your... unconventional interference, you managed to split the council in two on the matter... allowing me to save face and stop the momentum of war before it became unstoppable." Augustus stopped and turned towards Leto, and put his hand on his shoulder. "Not only does the Hierarchy owe you thanks, but I owe you a personal debt as well. Well played."

"I... I did not mean to 'play' anything, I just wanted to spare my son from a time of war. It was selfish, and..."

"Don't apologize for winning, Valerius." Augustus' tone was almost fatherly.

"And Gallienus, how is he reacting to this turn of events?"

"Why do you ask?"

"He seemed..._ eager for war."_

"Of course he was. He's the product of our culture!" Augustus chuckled a bit, then sighed. "Can I tell you something about us? I mean us, as a _like_ to win, and we _hate_ to lose. Shanxi was a loss, a _terrible_ loss, and Gallienus thought to wipe away the stain of defeat in battle with ultimate victory in war. Many of the generals felt the same way before you came along and counselled them to be a bit more cautious."

"I understand why they weren't cautious: The humans had such a small fleet."

"Again, we like to win, and what better way to win than fight those weaker than you? It's a tactic that served us well."

"And they thought it would still work."

"Indeed. Though, as you've said, the humans would have made us pay dearly for our victory."

"I suspect Gallienus also wanted an opportunity for advancement."

Augustus smiled. "That he was. He doesn't have what it takes to be a Praetor, far too focused on military matters, but conquering an entire race?" Augustus frowned and shook his head. "Hm, the votes in his favour for advancement to Praetor would have been overwhelming. Such is our way, I'm afraid. Martial prowess, above all."

"I know. I advanced to Archon myself because the previous one had been killed in a gang war."

"What were you before?"

"His chief of security."

"What happened to the chief of police?"

"Eaten." Leto paused, then: "By an enraged Elcor."

"...Remind me to visit Antioch someday, as it seems to be quite a fascinating place."

"And you would be welcome."

"Thank you. Speaking of which, I took some time to read about it: under your care Antioch is undergoing quite a renaissance. Crime is at an all time low, lower than even in Cipritine."

"I cannot take full credit for that: the citizens are responsible for making it a better place."

"And yet a couple of decades ago they didn't seem all that motivated. What changed?"

"...Fear stopped them, but inspiration moved them."

Augustus nodded. "I see. As I was saying, the Hierarchy owes you thanks, but the fact remains that you abused your power. One good act does not wash away the bad."

"I will gladly step down as Archon—"

"No, no. Antioch needs you. It's a bit of a problem for me, actually. It is my duty to reward you and punish you, and I have yet to figure out either."

"Perhaps you can find a way to do both?" Leto joked.

"Hm, perhaps. But that is something for another time. I suspect I will be quite busy in the coming years."

"Daddy!" shouted Brutus ahead of them.

"Beloved..." said Marcia, as both she and her son rushed towards Leto to pull him into an embrace.

Augustus motioned at his guards to be at ease, as he did not want them to interrupt a heartfelt reunion.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>Summer, 2160<strong>

Brutus loved the backyard. It was a walled off garden easily three times the size of their house, complete with a small fountain in the middle. He and his father were sitting on a bench next to it, admiring the arrangement of trees and flowers that Mother had spent the last year working on. Father had told Brutus that all this would be his one day, and that it would be his responsibility to maintain it, as his ancestors did before.

"Will I be Archon after you?" asked Brutus.

"Do you wish to be Archon?"

"No, but if you're Archon, and I'm your son..."

"Stop right there. Who put that notion in your head?"

"...But the Emperors! They inherited their positions from their fathers before them!"

"...Titus," Brutus realized. "That damned romantic fool and his stories! Brutus, listen to me. The Empire is long gone. Little of its systems remain to this day and it should _stay_ that way."

"But we're a Great House!"

"In name only! The only thing you stand to inherit from me is this home, and little else. The responsibility of being an Archon will be decided by the Hierarchy, and the familial ties will have no factor in that decision, do you understand?"

"What about the company?"

"That's a little different. You _will_ inherit the company, but you'll simply be expected to weigh in on major decisions every once in a while. The actual running of it will be handled by the board of the directors. If you wish to sit on that board, and thus receive a larger cut of its profits, you will have to work your way up in the company. This is the Turian way: _To prove oneself worthy._"

Brutus couldn't hide his disappointment. "I understand."

"Good. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to have a word with Titus."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Beyond the garden there was an area that Titus and the guards used for target practice. One sunny afternoon, Brutus' mother took him there after the guards were done, handed him a small bow and arrow, and intended to show him how to use it.<p>

Brutus had been dismissive at first, having been taught by both Titus and Leto that firearms were the proper weapons of a soldier, but Marcia quickly demonstrated the deadliness of the weapon by loosing an arrow that hit the target she called (an acorn) from a hundred meters away. Not only that, she had managed to do this by getting the arrow's course to curve to the left. Impressed, Brutus decided that maybe Father and Uncle had not been entirely correct, and quickly tried to match his mother's skill. Of course, being a novice, he failed miserably.

After a week of lessons, Brutus had thought he had become an elite marksman, capable of hitting his target dead center from twenty meters away.

Marcia graduated him to the more advanced moving targets, and Brutus realized just how much learning and training he had to do before calling himself a marksman.

He loosed another arrow, and missed, and fought the urge to break the damned piece of wood over his knee. Marcia sensed this, and asked him to calm himself. "Mind your breathing. It works with frustration as well as fear."

"You would fare a lot better," said Leto as he walked up behind them, "by trying to hit the center mass instead of going for the critical shot." He pointed at Brutus' target: It was a flat piece of wood in the shape of a _Cervus_, with red marks on the head and heart.

"But I had no trouble hitting them before..." Brutus protested.

"That's because they weren't moving. And how many times have the advanced targets ducked behind cover while you tried to get a bead on their tiny red marks?"

Brutus stared at his shoes. "I dunno," he said, not quite willing to admit his mistake.

Leto scowled, then sighed as he knelt beside his son "It is far more important to shoot as soon as possible and hit your target than pull off impressive long distance shots, Brutus. Tomorrow I'll bring you a training pistol, and show you how to use it properly."

Leto was called away by one of the servants, and Brutus and Marcia resumed their practice.

"Your father is correct, of course, you do take too much time to aim."

"I'm doing it wrong, aren't I?"

"Yes, but you're still learning. Still, there is a very good reason why I've been teaching you the Way for the past few years..." Marcia walked behind Brutus, and told him to ready another arrow. She put her hands on the side of his head, and told him in a voice that wasn't quite hers: **"Listen to the sound of my voice, and do as I tell you. Steady your breath, as I showed you countless times before."**

Brutus obeyed, and controlled his breath.

**"As you control it, understand that your exert your Will over the unthinking part of yourself: the Sleeper. From the breath, control the pulses of your heart..."**

Brutus obeyed, and willed his heartbeat to slow down a bit. He felt more relaxed, and suddenly his sense of awareness became stronger. Sounds, became louder, colours became more intense. He felt himself noticing the slight swaying of the trees and grass.

**"Know then that your sense of time, as the rhythms of your heart and breath, is under your complete control..."**

Another Cervus darted out from the left, and Brutus drew back his shortbow and took aim...

**"...Awaken the Sleeper."**

Then, the target slowed down considerably, down to a crawl. At first Brutus thought his mother had lowered the difficulty, but then he realized the trees had nearly stopped swaying, and that he had stopped breathing, and that there was a frighteningly long moment of silence before he heard his own heart beat again. His mother's voice, however, didn't seem to slow at all.

**"Know the pull of gravity, and the push of the wind. Know the path your arrow will take, picture it clearly in your mind,.. focus on the beast's heart, lead it... now loose!"**

Brutus did so, and loosed the arrow. Time resumed its pace, and he watched as the projectile pierced the red mark that was supposed to be the Cervus' heart.

"Wow!" Brutus couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Marcia put her hands on her son's shoulders and smiled.

"One day," she said, "you will be able to do this without my help."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Leto brought Brutus to the Library, and showed him a book. In it lay the genealogy of the entire Valerius family. Upon the cover was a symbol: ten streaks of white shaped like a hawk in flight.<p>

"Your uncle Titus has been filling your head with the idea that because you're a Valerius, you're somehow better than everyone. Allow me to dispel the notion." He opened the book, and sought a particular page. "Yes, there were many great men and women amongst us, but there were far more fools amongst us." He pointed at an entry. Apparently, that particular ancestor had been an overzealous donor to a church, to the point that he indebted the entire family. Another had been obsessed with jewels, and resorted to selling slaves to feed her habit. One had even killed his own brother over a woman, causing a blood feud.

One of the more honourable of the bunch had committed the entire family to the last Emperor's war. Needless to say, that hadn't turned out so well. Many branches of the family tree had been cut off, that decade, all save one.

"So what have we learned?"

"...The family name means nothing."

"NO. It does mean something!" He slammed the book shut, and pointed at the words written the family sigil. "Our motto: _We bring a light in the dark._ It means that a Valerius must always seek to improve the lot of those that suffer, to leave the world a better place than when he entered it! Those that followed that credo earn the love of the people they ruled, but then their _own grandchildren..._" he hammered a claw onto the book's cover. "...allowed the acts of their forefathers to get to their heads! They gave themselves license to spend coin and blood to the detriment of all!"

Leto made sure he held Brutus' gaze. "You are not better because of blood, or name. You will be judged better only if your actions, and your works, and your efforts prove better than the rest!"

Ever since that day in the library, Brutus took his lessons far more seriously.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcia had taught Brutus how to keep his steps light, and to be aware of his surroundings, and the movements of others. He had quickly figured out the meaning of stealth from these lessons, and enjoyed stalking the servants, and when they least expected them he screamed "BOO!" to give them a start. Strangely enough, he could never surprise Titus this way. Oh, he didn't say anything, and he acted scared when Brutus surprised him, but the boy could tell Titus was just playing along. His mother seemed keenly aware of where he was at all times, and could never surprise her. Brutus had come very close, once, of surprising Father, and Leto had seemed less than pleased at this.<p>

He played a game of hide and seek with the servants' children, once, and picked the living room. He had fallen asleep, waiting to be found, and the sounds of people talking had awoken him.

"You've been teaching him the Way," said Father.

"I have," replied Mother. "As my Mother tried to teach you, so long ago."

"Why?"

"It won't be that long until his fifteenth birthday," she said, sadly.

_Why was Mother sad? _Brutus wondered. At 15 he would join the Army, and be well on his way to become the next Archon of Antioch, as his father before him.

"Your Hierarchy wants to put a gun in his hands," she continued, "and put him in harm's way... I have made peace with that fact, and what I teach him will ensure that he comes back home to us safe and sound."

"You're lying," said Father. "Titus has been filling his mind with old tales of kings, and heroes, and nonsense, and old ideas of inheritance. The both of you are raising him to replace... to replace _him_."

"...Not 'him', you."

"...No. I refuse this! Brutus will be free to choose any path he wishes, whatever it might be, any except for that!"

"He HAS no choice!" Marcia was on the verge of tears. "Oh, do I wish I could raise him to become an painter, or a musician, or even a humble farmer! But no! Damn your laws! Damn the men that decreed that all our children must become soldiers before all else!"

"He won't stay a soldier forever!"

"Now it is you who is lying!" laughed Titus as he entered the room. "And to yourself, too! The boy has a Warrior's heart sleeping in him! What other fate will the titans decree for him, once he is baptised by blood? He will be a poor soldier, and all other paths will hold no appeal to him. What else can he become?"

"There is only one thing he can become," added Mother.

Father laughed, in a manner that Brutus could only perceive as... cruel. "Then you are both in for a great deal of disappointment. It seems the Primarch has finally decided to punish me."

Titus and Mother looked at each other curiously. "How do you mean?" they asked.

"He has made me the Magistrate of Omega," said Leto. His tone became bitter: "Do you think the Legend can come to life in such a place? It can't. It won't. And your attempts at shaping Brutus into another Archangel will only end in his DEATH."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Codex described Omega as the lone city on the desolate world of Bindur, in a star system in the center of a dead zone between the Asari Republics, Turian Hierarchy, and the vast Terminus systems. The solar system, Sahrabarik, was also host to an abnormally powerful Relay that was connected to several others. As such, Omega had become a port of call for traders, fugitives, pirates and mercenaries on their way between Council space and the Terminus.<p>

A picture appeared on Brutus' pad, that of Bindur itself. It was missing a huge chunk of its crust. The Codex went on to explain that the damage done to Bindur had been caused during the Krogan Rebellions by a giant Krogan mining ship that had been powerful enough to tear out a chunk out of the planet. Bindur, as it turned out, contained an insanely large supply of Element Zero that put Thessia's to shame, and the Krogan had wanted it to fuel their massive heavy industry. The Turians, of course, had something to say about that, and destroyed the mining ship before it could tear out an island sized chunk of element zero rich rock and sand, stalling the Krogan war machine.

The ship's captain, however, had the last laugh: by manipulating the mass effect tethers, he had wrapped the giant rock in a warp field. When it had inevitably fallen back onto Bindur upon the ship's destruction, the catastrophic chain reaction had caused a significant fraction of the planet to tear itself apart. Rocks and lava had floated into space, settling into orbits, and had made Bindur's surface nearly unreachable by ship for centuries. Eventually, a new mining industry had been formed by hundreds of daring freelance prospectors and miners willing to brave the dense asteroid field around the planet in their small ships. Omega had been founded soon after, as an underground base. Centuries later, it became a bustling metropolis of 5 million, but it had no true central government, and its streets were constantly ravaged by conflicts between gangs and factions and corporate armies vying for control.

For he who controlled Omega, would control the flow of Element Zero throughout the galaxy.

"Studying, Brutus?"

Brutus looked back from his desk to see his father in the doorway of his room.

"I suppose... I did a search on Omega. I wanted to know more about it."

"That's all well and good," said Leto, as he approached to take the pad away. "But you really should be packing—" Leto dismissed the window on the pad detailing Omega, only to reveal one about none other than Archangel. He frowned, and glared at his son. "Taken an interest in vigilantes, have you?"

"A lot of people call him a hero," said Brutus. "He saved a lot of lives during the Longest Night, and ended a reign of terror by killing seven crime lords!"

"And that seems right to you? To kill without the right to do so?"

Brutus didn't quite know what to say to that.

Leto continued: "Archangel is no hero: He's a murderer, and he has yet to submit to his betters for his crimes."

"Why not?" asked Brutus, almost challengingly.

_Does he know?_ Leto wondered. "I have no idea, for I am not privy to his thoughts." Leto switched the pad off, and changed the subject. "So... Today's the big day."

Today is the day we leave our ancestral home, thought Brutus. "Yeah, it is... Father?"

"Hm?"

"Why are we going to Omega?"

"Because the Hierarchy demands it," said Leto, as if that was enough.

Not enough for Brutus. "Yes, but why?"

"Because Omega needs a civilizing influence, and seeing that Antioch's recent rise in quality of life happened on my watch, I was considered the best man for the job."

"Isn't Omega a free state?"

"At the moment? No. The Hierarchy has recently achieved enough of a military presence in the system to declare it Turian territory. The problem is, after Shanxi, we're being very careful about simply occupying the area with an army."

"Because a revolt would stop people from making Element Zero."

Leto gave him a look full of pride. _Smart boy._ "Correct. And do you know how important Element Zero is?"

Brutus nodded. The nearly miraculous mineral was used in everything from starship drives to medicine. "What I don't get is how come no one took Omega over before we did."

"The Asari Republics tried, as well as many a Terminus Warlord."

"And the Primarch thinks you'll succeed where they failed?"

"All that came before focused on domination, on conquest. Omega is a city in chaos, and I hope that by improving the lot of its less fortunate denizens I can gain enough influence for a peaceful take-over."

"Do we really have to go? I mean, can't you disobey like you did last time?"

"Brutus, there is a proper time to disobey, and this is not the case here... Do you remember the words of House Valerius?"

"We shine a light in the dark."

"Exactly. And Omega is very dark place. Not only that... If the flow of Element Zero can be improved, then its planet can be made into a major world within my lifetime."

"Does that mean you'll be made Praetor, then?"

"It is more likely a Praetor will be assigned to the planet... but maybe. There has been a precedent. Do you understand, now, why I _must_ accept?"

"If you become Praetor, you can help more people that way."

"Exactly."

"...What's going to happen to the mansion?"

"No doubt it will be assigned to the next Archon."

"It's... not ours any more?"

"I'm afraid not. The Hierarchy can commandeer resources as it wishes, even our home."

"...So I won't even have this house."

"No, but you'll no doubt inherit our new manor in Omega."

"But it's not our manor... Our family didn't build it."

Leto understood what Brutus was getting at: The Hierarchy had just taken away his inheritance. He knelt besides his son. "Let me show you something..." He reached under his shirt and took out a pendant: It was a clear, tear shaped crystal set in silver loops. Part of the metal had been wrought into wings. "This pendant has been worn by the head of the Valerius family since the Emperor made it a great house. This is a piece of our history, Brutus, and when it is time for you to succeed me, it will be yours, and the Hierarchy can never take that away from you."

Brutus admired the jewel, stared into the very center of the crystal, and thought he saw something glow.

"Now come!" said Leto, as he tucked the pendant back into his shirt. There is still much we have to do, young man."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Damn the Element Zero!" shouted Leto into his communicator as they stared out of the observation lounge. "Save yourselves!"<p>

They had spent close to a week in that frigate. As it turned out, reaching the Relay that would take them directly to Sahrabarik was on the far frontier of Turian space, and required a great deal of travel through multiple star systems. When they made the final jump, there to greet them was the frightening form of the Omega relay, made of a gleaming black metal wrapped around a glowing orange core, wrought into the shape of an eight-pointed star.

Further away, a small volus freighter drifted away, having just moments before suffered an attack from pirates. The brigand's cutters had left quickly, upon seeing the small fleet of Turian ships appearing out of nowhere, but had left the freighter gutted and its primary and secondary heat sinks beyond repair.

The dust-form eezo, freed into the weightless blackness of space, floated out of the cargo hold — not like a cloud, as expected — but like the mouldy growths on the old, humid shack were Uncle Titus grew their mushrooms. Only, this growth was three dimensional, and glowed brightly in the darkness, its ethereal appearance contrasting sharply with the solid, bulbous shape of the Volus freighter it spewed from.

Brutus felt moved to tears by such strange beauty... or he would have been if the freighter was not at risk of exploding. The crewmen, desperate to reclaim their valuable prize, went out in EVA gear to try and scoop up as much of it as possible, completely neglecting their impending doom.

Leto, after a failed attempt at reasoning with the doomed crew, led the rescue efforts, saving the Volus from their own greed. To Brutus, this act of selfless bravery proved once again what he already knew: his father had once been Archangel.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The fleet of corvettes and frigates entered Bindur's atmosphere, one by one, as the entry windows became available. Said windows were few and far between, as approaching the planet required one to navigate a dense field of asteroids. At the moment, it was the light freighters' turn to land on Bindur. They carried essential supplies: medicines, ready to eat food, plant seeds, and most importantly of all, <em>dirt<em>. Bindur's soil was not compatible with the plant life on Palaven, and if Leto, his family, and his men were to live there, they would need a continuous source of food.

Brutus, from the observation deck, saw the broken sphere of Bindur with his own eyes. Titus had told him that Bindur was the egg of a god, and while Brutus thought he was joking, the sight of a partially shattered world made him wonder if there was some truth to it...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was noon, and the sky was clear, allowing the harsh light of the sun through. The slow drive between the starport and the Manor felt tense, and the inside of the car was extremely hot. Brutus, with his mother's permission, opened one of the windows, and looked out at the crowd. Father had tried to be discreet, but the escort Titus had arranged was getting a great deal of attention.<p>

Brutus already missed Antioch, with its old buildings of stone decorated by gargoyles. Omega's buildings lacked such identity, being made out of high tech junk bashed into the shape of buildings. On the street, things looked worse. There was blood mixed in with the stinking garbage, and Brutus saw an emaciated Batarian slumped against a wall, about to inject himself with something, not minding his own filth at all. Right next to that, someone was peddling rotten fruit.

Then, for the first time, Brutus saw a trio of Vorcha. The strange, feral-looking aliens looked at him, muttered something under their hoods, and disappeared into the shadows. Were they plotting something sinister?

"I want to go home," said Brutus.

"I know you do," said Marcia. "But this will be good for you, in the end."

"I don't see how," Brutus pouted.

"You need new experiences. They'll jar something in you, deep inside, allowing you to grow."

"Out there, I would only get lost..."

"Most certainly, you will lose your way. We all lose our way, at some point in our lives. But just when you think all is lost, you shall meet a kindred spirit... just as lost as you are, but also just as driven and as strong as you are. Together, you will be able to find your way back...

"...is it going to be a girl?" Brutus asked eagerly.

"Maybe." she smiled. "Or Maybe not."

"Aw." He pouted, but then something started to bother him. _We all lose our way._ Did that mean his parents had been lost, once? It was hard to imagine as anything else than wise teachers. "Was father _ever_ lost?"

"He was, until he met Titus. And now, he has lost his way again. But he has us. He will _always_ have us to guide him back."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Valerius' new manor had all the architectural charms of a military bunker. Its walls were made of smooth, reinforced concrete, and the windows were few and far between. That was not to say the place was without decorations, however: The walls of the dining hall, for example, seemed to be made of interlocking cubes of rough stone.<p>

Settling in had involved Marcia and Titus scanning the entire place for traps (Titus with a scanner, Marcia with her eyes and ears alone). They found and disarmed quite a few, most designed to deal with intruders and invaders. Leto, in the meantime, explored the entirety of the manor, looking for secret passages or potential weaknesses in its defenses.

Once security was addressed, and the servants and guards were settled in, it was time to start taking care of Omega. The first order of business?

A meeting with General Gallienus.

"Valerius," said the General coldly, by way of greeting.

"Gallienus," said Valerius, right back.

"I see you've been promoted."

"Magistrate to Bindur is hardly what I would call a promotion."

"Try being assigned to patrol this backwater."

"Regardless, controlling the planet is of paramount importance."

"I know, which is why I intend to send fifty thousand soldiers to assist you in the task. They'll keep the peace."

"You'll do no such thing."

"...Are you insane, Valerius? You do realize that there are hundreds of gangs and mercenary groups poised to tear the city apart?"

"And if that many of your soldiers march down the street, those very gangs may unite against what will seem like an invasion force."

"So you'll have us stay in orbit and do nothing?"

"On the contrary, you will send your men down, but on a basis of necessity, and they'll use civilian transports and wear civilian gear."

"How many?"

"A few hundred at first. My initial operations will be small, but will no doubt need some protection."

"You'll need a larger police force, if you expect to keep order."

"A police force is not a priority right now. My main focus will be to improve the quality of life here in Omega, at first. When it is time to build up a police force, I think it would be best to recruit locally. They will need training, of course."

"Of course." Gallienus sniffed contemptibly. "Very well, you're the Magistrate here, but mark my words, if you fail to keep the peace on Omega, this will become a military matter. When it does, I expect you to stand aside." Before he left, the general had one more thing to add. "By the way, my patrols have spotted quite a few ships coming in, crewed by the humans you love so much. I'd like to say that they won't be too much trouble but... that would be a lie."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"There used to be a lot more sigils like this," Marcia told Brutus as the guards set up the heraldry. "With wing motifs, I mean."<p>

"There aren't any more?"

"Heraldry fell a bit out of fashion, and logo designers don't use them in military standards any more. But before? You couldn't escape them. Do you know why that is?" When Brutus shook his head, she put a hand on his head. "Because we once remembered what it was like to fly."

"I wish I could fly, sometimes."

"I know you do, my child."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Autumn 2161<strong>_

Brutus and Marcia disembarked from the armoured Trike and walked out into the desert. It was sundown, the sand under his boots was a slightly rusted grey, while the sky above was a dark blue. The horizon was aflame with purple light and red clouds, but even that fire was nowhere near as bright as the pale glow of Bindur's twin moons.

The wind howled, caressing Brutus' ears through the enviro-suit's helmet.

"How do you feel, Brutus?" asked Marcia, holding her son by the hand.

"I..." he could definitely feel something as he laid eyes upon the desert, but he couldn't place his finger on it. Was it sorrow? It felt like sorrow, but he didn't want to cry at all. "...I don't know."

"Would you like to know how I feel? I feel at home."

"Home? Here?"

"Hm-hm... Atreus was built on a massive rock in the middle of a desert much like this one."

"Atreus... you're named after a city?"

"No, I was named after my grandmother, and had not surname. I took the name Atreus in memory of a lost city."

"What was it like?"

"Peaceful. Me and my sisters spent most of our time practising the Way. It was on a dusk like this that your father came to us to learn what he could from us. I was but a child, then, and he did not remember me when I met him again a decade later."

"You said Atreus was lost. What happened to it?"

"...It was destroyed."

"By who?"

"...Let's go home, Brutus. It's getting late."

"But..."

"_Please_, Brutus."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It had been a year, and life on Omega was starting to improve for the better. The first order of business for Leto had been to restore the sewage system to a functional state. This was quickly followed up by establishing a water distribution system. This required converting a nearby crater into a lake, by moving thousands of ice chunks from the polar icecaps.<p>

The second order of business had been to clear up the debris in orbit in order to improve traffic. A fleet of fifty vessels — tugs, mostly — had been tasked with moving the larger rocks into deep space. With them gone, travel off-world had become much safer, though larger ships with weak shields were still at risk.

Both these projects had cost a great deal of money, and Leto's company was no longer willing to bankroll these projects. To pay for the maintenance of Omega, Leto imposed a five percent tax on commerce and industry, as well as an eight percent residential tax on middle class housing.

One would think that this would be a small price to pay for clean streets and clean water...

"It's the Jester again," said Titus. He and Leto sat on the opposite sides of the table in the dining hall. "She hijacked thousands of screens all over the city to spread her propaganda. Leto, it's bad. She's portraying you as a tyrant."

"Nonsense," said Leto. "I haven't even established a police force. How could I be a tyrant without an armed force?"

"I don't think the people will see it that way. The Jester... she's appealing to their sense of romance, and there's a certain appeal to seeing oneself as the oppressed."

"And you think she's trying to cast herself as a heroine of the people? Titus, it is doomed to fail: More than half of the population paid their dues."

"It's the other half I'm worried about. We should find her and eliminate her as soon as possible."

"No. We do not have the right. We've yet to establish the rule of law in the first place. What will the people think when this Jester becomes silent all of a sudden?"

"So what would you have me do?"

"You? Nothing. It's up to _me_ to prove her wrong."

"And if her actions bring harm?"

"Then you will have my permission to punish her."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Every once in a while, Uncle Titus liked to go out, and took Brutus along.<p>

"If you are serious about succeeding your father one day," he had said, "then you have to understand the place you will protect, and to do that you must walk its streets. The wisest of all Emperors walked the world in disguise once upon a time, before succeeding his father, and his rule is considered, even now, to have been the greatest of all during the days of the old empire."

Of course, all their trips ended at some bar or another. Still, Brutus couldn't argue with the results: those trips around the city had gone a long way towards making him perceive Omega as a real city, with real people in it, rather than a wretched hive filled with evil.

They had met a fruit merchant, a Batarian named Kynes, who had escaped a life of slavery and put his knowledge of moisture farming to some good use. He was the primary source of good for his neighbourhood, and also cultivated a few medicinal plants as well. He hoped that Leto would begin irrigating the nearby lands.

"I hope to own a farm, one day. And I dream of seeing the surface of Bindur covered in plants."

A few days later, in a tea house, Titus had struck up a conversation with a married couple. For both Brutus and he, it had been the first time they had personally seen humans. The man said that he was a freelance prospector.

"I suspect that the desert sands might contain a great deal of dust-form element zero."

"Good luck extracting it," joked Titus.

"Actually, my people are very good at extracting valuable resources from the sand. If I am correct, my father won't have to lay a claim to any of the major asteroids or even the caves to make a profit."

"You should probably keep that to yourself."

"...Perhaps you are right," said the man as he finished his mint tea.

"And who is this?" asked the human's wife.

"That..." hesitated Titus. "Is my son, Agrippa."

"Aw, he looks adorable!" she giggled. "Like a small cat! I hope my own son will be as cute as you!"

"Is your egg in the rookery?" asked Brutus, innocently.

"Egg?" it took a moment before the woman realized what he meant. "Oh, no no no..." she pointed at her round belly. "My son is in here, not in an egg."

"...Oh." Brutus stared at the huge bump, pondering the fascinating biology behind the human reproductive system. Then, finally, he said. "You humans are weird."

"That we are!" the woman laughed.

The man's watch beeped, and it was evidently time for him and his wife to go. Titus wished him farewell.

"May Allah be with you," said the man.

"And may the Titans guide you," replied Titus, not breaking stride.

Titus asked Brutus if he had ever heard the anthem of the 13th Legion. When the boy replied no, Titus struck up a conversation with a group of nearby Turian mercenaries, buying them a few beers with the intent of putting them in a singing mood.

The gunshots outside put an end to that notion quickly.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus watched as the human woman spent her last moment seeing her husband die and her own life's blood pouring out of the dozens of holes in her belly. Their pockets were torn, their Omni-Tools were gone. Some passer-bys watched, others moved along.<p>

_Don't touch them, you'll get infected! _said one.

_Let the Vorcha eat them! _said another.

_Anyone saw who did it? _asked a woman.

_None of our affair, _said her mother. _Let's just go._

"SOMEONE CALL AN AMBULANCE!" screamed Titus. Some laughter was his only answer. _There were no hospitals on Omega. _There never had been.

Brutus stood paralysed as the woman reached out to him, as if hoping for him to do something. But he could do nothing, he realized, as she breathed her last breath. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and Brutus caught sight of someone darting into a dark alleyway, a machine pistol in hand.

Something inside of him told him to give chase, and so he did. Sensing he was being chased, the man (was it a human?) began to run, and were it not for his mother's training Brutus would not have been able to keep up.

Until he tripped and fell, giving the man plenty of time to get away. When Titus arrived, Brutus' knucles were bloody. He had been punching the ground in frustration, tears in his eyes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Days passed since the incident, and Brutus tried to put it behind him, as his mother advised. But he couldn't. Even as his tutors droned on about some subject or another, the death of the humans had weighed on his mind. He felt as though he should have been able to do something — <em>anything! —<em> to make it right.

At dinner, Brutus shared his thoughts about becoming a doctor.

"I approve," said Leto. "It would be a great way to climb the echelons of the company._ Caduceus _deals with a great deal of biotech work, should you be interested in research."

"I'm more interested in saving lives."

Leto smiled. "Of course you are. Regardless, you'll need to spend a great deal of time with the medical corps. When you come of age, and you are still serious about this, I can put in a good word for you with them. But you'll have to pass their exams, understood?"

Brutus nodded, feeling a bit better about his direction in life. Mother, however, seemed sad. It was getting frustrating: did she have no faith in his ability to chose his own fate?

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Why a doctor?" asked Titus, as he and his men unloaded crates of Somatic Gel.<p>

"To save lives," answered Brutus, sitting on a stack of crates. "What is this?" he asked, as he pointed at cylinder with terran letters printed on the side.

"Medi-Gel," said Titus, "for the clinics Leto is funding. The humans came up with it. Works better than our Gel when it comes to sealing wounds."

"Maybe I should keep some..."

"Maybe. There are many ways to save lives, Brutus. You can heal wounds... or you can kill dangerous people. Either way helps. You'll learn that during your tour of service... and you're still dwelling on the humans."

Brutus nodded.

"Be honest with me, boy, do you really think you could have saved them if you knew everything there was about healing?"

"I... I don't know."

"You couldn't have. I've patched up plenty of wounds in my time, and I know that we were too late. There was nothing we could have done for them then. What we CAN do, is make sure that the one that killed them can no longer hurt anyone else. One way, or another."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Leave!" screamed Marcia, as she chased away the Asari that Leto had hired as servants,"You filthy harlots!"<p>

At first, Brutus giggled, as the Asari left in a hurry, cursing at her mother under their breaths. But then he realized that he had never seen his mother so angry before.

"Come now," said Titus diplomatically, as he came to investigate the commotion, "There's no need for—"

"I want any and all Asari that come near the Manor turned away, and shot if they insist on staying!"

"...As you wish, my lady." Titus bowed almost comically. "But may I ask why?"

"...Asari corrupt all that they touch, and destroy what they can't corrupt."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>He had found him.<p>

He had convinced Titus to bring him along on another field trip, and he had found him.

The Drell was bragging about his recent crimes, and he took great delight in recounting how he had shot and killed a human couple for their valuables. He gave a perfect account of the deed to a Turian and a Batarian over a makeshift grill, in an abandoned park populated by Omega's homeless.

"You shot a pregnant woman?" asked the Batarian.

"Yeah, so?"

"Damn..." The Batarian winced, "I mean, I'm not a fan of humans... but damn, you couldn't just mug them?"

The Drell shrugged. "Bitch went for her gun."

"Can't say that I disapprove," said the Turian. "Humans have been spreading like a rash over the galaxy. Might as well stop them from breeding."

Brutus wrapped himself in a dirty rag, took a deep breath, and approached the Drell. "Sir?"

The Drell turned around and sneered at the sight of the small Turian. "The fuck do you want?"

"I'm hungry... do you have anything to eat?"

"Fuck off!"

"Please?"

"Come on," said the Batarian. "Give him a skewer, and he'll leave us alone."

"Hell no!" was the Drell's succinct reply. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get your hands on some decent meat around here?!"

"Please?" begged Brutus, hopeful.

"I said..." the Drell rose, and faced Brutus, intent of giving him a backhand. "FUCK—"

That was when Brutus punched him in the testicles. The murderer screamed in pain as he leaned forward to cup himself, giving Brutus on opportunity to leap onto him. Flat on his back, the Drell could do nothing as the Turian boy punched him in the face over and over again.

"Murderer! _Murderer!_ _**Murderer!**_" shouted Brutus, as he felt the satisfying crunch of bone under his small fists.

The other two criminals leapt to action immediately, intent on saving their friend, but they were stopped by the telltale roar of the thrusters of a havoc armour as its wearer landed right in front of them. They were shocked by his height: he stood a head taller than either of them, and looked strong enough to crush a man's skull with his bare hands.

The turian thug lunged with a knife, going for the unprotected face. Titus effortlessly twisted his arm, and shoved the knife right in his face.

The Batarian swung a bat into Titus' back, and managed to hit him just fine. The large Turian merely turned to his attacker, growled, grabbed him by the head, and hoisted him up.

"No! Please!" begged the Batarian, just before receiving a headbutt that pushed him into a nearby pile of garbage and into sweet unconsciousness.

The threats gone, Titus focused his attention on Brutus: the boy was still pummelling his quarry to death, and the Drell had stopped struggling. He still lived, though, if the gurgling was anything to go by.

"Brutus!" Titus shouted, as he pulled the boy away. Brutus kept on snarling and crying as he struggled against Titus' iron grip.

He wasn't finished. _He wasn't finished!_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>From the rooftops and the dark corners, the Vorcha watched as the boy inflicted punishment on the Drell. Said Drell had taken part in cleansing their kind for a handful of coins.<p>

"Bashera..." they chanted, as their eyes glowed blue, and retreated into the darkness.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The ride back home was quiet, as the trike's small armoured cabin shielded them from most of the white noise of the city. Multicoloured lights passed them by slowly, as Titus had to drive around the congestion of pedestrians.<p>

Brutus stared at his hands, covered in Somatic Gel, and squeezed them. Punching that murderer had felt right, and Brutus knew that he was coming to grips with that thing that stirred within his spirit

"I'm proud of you," said Titus, though he didn't sound all that happy.

"Why?"

"You didn't hesitate. You acted. So many people here are paralysed, Brutus. _I don't have the strength or the weapons,_ they reason. You had neither, and that did not stop you... I just wished you discovered that part of yourself a bit later, however."

"...What happened to the Drell?" asked Brutus.

"I punished him," Titus replied simply.

The Jester's face appeared on the holo-screen, denouncing the recent taxes as Leto making his move. _"His hands are in your pocket. Soon he will take everything you have. Omega, are you going to just let him?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The clinics were being raided. As it turned out, medical supplies were worth quite a bit of platinum on the black market. With the guards of his household not sufficient to keep all of them secure, Leto understood that it was time to finally establish a firm rule of law, and that meant creating a police force. Gallienus sent a few hundred men, most of them trained drill sergeants, to help train this new force, while Titus took care of recruiting locally. He only managed to muster a force five-hundred strong, as he wasn't shy about telling recruits what they would be in for. He might have gotten more, if he had simply said the job paid well and provided free accommodations.<p>

Months later, the fledgling police took to patrolling the streets, and pamphlets detailing the standard colonial code of law were distributed, with warnings that ignorance of the law would be no grounds for being cleared of any charges. Well armed and armoured, the police managed to keep the clinics and their immediate areas safe.

Of course, the Jester had something to say about that too. Her masked face appeared on every vid window once more, decrying the police as the start of an oppressive regime.

_"Look upon their laws and see that they wish to take your freedom away from you. Your right to your own justice, your right to make your own fortune, your right to be free..."_

Attempts at blocking out her signal proved less than successful. Omega was an entirely wireless city, as its founders and citizens had neither the means nor the desire to build and maintain a proper city-wide cable network. Everything connected to a wireless router in the city was open to hacking, and this Jester always found an exploit that allowed her to transmit her propaganda on every single OLED panel and holo-screen in Omega.

Despite this, Leto was winning. As he kept the water flowing, the streets clean, and the people healthy, word of mouth spread that Leto had made life in the city better than ever, and it was going to improve even more. His supporters became far more vocal and active, and more volunteers for the police and the clinics came to his door. There was even talk of enriching the nearby soil to support farming, creating jobs, and freeing Omega from its dependency on overpriced food imports.

As far as Element Zero mining went, Leto had sent the majority of the mineral he acquired from his recent tax collection back to Palaven, as well as a small portion to _Caduceus_. The board, and the Hierarchy, were quite pleased with him, and promised that more resources would be made available to him.

That was when the bombings began. First, it had been one of the water treatment plants. Then, it had been a guard post. All attacks bore the calling card of the Jester. The damage was costly, the loss of life regrettable, but things really took a turn for the worse when one of her deranged followers bombed the military barracks.

For once, it had not been the Jester's distorted voice that had echoed throughout Omega. This time, it was the voice of General Gallienus, blaring through the loudspeakers of several frigates hovering only inches higher than the tallest buildings.

_"Citizens of Omega. There is only one response to such a brazen attack against the armed forces of the Turian Hierarchy. As of this very moment, you are all under martial law."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Titus had been charged with capturing the Jester, as soon as news of the first bombing reached Leto. He had few clues to work with: female (possibly Human or Asari), likes to wear black leather and that strange mask. Still, he had managed to bring her out of hiding once, and had come very close to catching her.<p>

"She led me on a merry chase," he told Leto. "But I managed to hit her with my shotgun. Solid slug. Ripped right through her barrier."

"Seeing as she's still transmitting..." said the Magistrate meaningfully.

"That was the strangest thing, just as I approached her, she dissolved into some kind of... oily shadow, and when that smoke dispersed all that was left behind was — get this — a male Batarian. I had his corpse examined at a clinic. Couldn't tell me much about the cause of death."

"What nonsense is this?!" Leto had a hard time believing what his comrade was saying, but a suit recording quickly dispelled his doubts. "Spirits..."

"This Jester has powers, unlike any I have ever seen before."

"...And she could be anyone."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Is it done?" asked Marcia.<p>

"It is done," answered Titus. "Everything I could stow away I moved to the caves, in secret."

Brutus listened to their conversation from his hiding spot, imagining himself to be very small, as his mother had taught him. _What were they talking about?_ he wondered._ What caves?_

"Marcia, is this wise?" asked Titus. "We may not be able to stay here for much longer, and I may not be able to grab everything if we have to leave in a rush."

"I am not worried," said Marcia. "All our fates are now tied to Omega." She touched her swollen belly. "All of our fates." She sighed. "I will go down there to add my own touches later."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"It feels quiet, now... like the calm before the storm," said Leto to himself as he looked out the window from his office. Then, he turned to Titus. "Gallienus means to kill me."<p>

"If that was true, then he would have done it by now," said Titus.

Leto let out a bitter chuckle. "Give him some credit. He knows that killing me without due cause would ruin his career. No. He wants _Omega_ to be my doom."

Gallienus' takeover had been slow, at first. The initial landings consisted of hundreds of infantrymen, a show of force to demonstrate that he was serious. When the Jester and her fanatics resumed their attacks, Gallienus began to field armoured units. Months later, there was a soldier and a tank at every major crossroad, as well as a garrison near every major building... including the city's own ansible.

Despite claiming otherwise, Gallienus saw no difference between a citizen of Omega and a crook. As far as he was concerned, every person here was a potential terrorist, needing to be controlled and monitored and threatened into submission. The more he oppressed the people, the more they resisted. And the more they resisted, the harder he oppressed them.

A small riot had broken out, days ago, and were it not for some quick thinking from the police, Gallienus would have slaughtered everyone there.

Leto, for his part, had been lumped together with Gallienus in the Jester's propaganda... only now, people listened. And Leto was in his manor, while Gallienus was sage in his heavy cruiser in high orbit. Who would the people lash out against, once they were pushed over the edge?

"...Then perhaps we should leave?" said Titus.

"We can't. Gallienus won't let us."

"What?!"

"He says that it's not safe out in space, that pirate ships are on the move on the outskirts of the system. Lies, of course."

"Have you tried appealing to the Hierarchy?"

"I did. The Praetor said that I must defer to the judgement of the General, as he is in command of the Omega situation until it is resolved... and not to go over Gallienus' head again."

"So we're on our own... a few hundred guards against an entire city, and the General's soldiers ready to finish us if we somehow manage to survive a revolt... We need allies."

"I agree, but here, in Omega?"

"You must have some goodwill left, people that did not forget the good you did here. I'll find them."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the center of the room, on a circular table made of stone, there was an egg resting on a red velvet cushion.<p>

Rooms such as these were traditionally called rookeries. A misnomer, in this case, as a rookery required far more eggs than just the one. Still, it had all the ideal conditions of one: the right amount of light, the right temperature, the right humidity. Sensors had been placed around the egg, linked to its parents' Omni-Tools.

To Brutus' disappointment, the table was too high for him to touch the egg, but he was tall enough to get an up close look at it.

"I'm going to have a little brother?"

"Or a sister," replied Marcia. "It could go either way."

"Can't you tell?"

"I could... but I prefer a surprise."

"Did Father and you think up names?"

"We did," Marcia nodded. "Alia, if it's a girl, and... Adama, if it's a boy. What do you think?"

"I hope it's going to be a boy!" Brutus declared happily, already imagining he and his brother being brothers in arms in the military. Of course, he was forgetting that with the age difference, they would not be serving together.

"Hush, my child, let mother do her work..."

Marcia caressed the egg, and began to sing to it a soothing melody. The device in her palm, some kind of bronze speaker, echoed her voice slightly as if her vocal cords were made of resonating crystal.

"What is that?" Brutus asked when she was done.

"It is a Weirding Module."

"...A what?"

"It's something your father came up with, based on his old armour. He hoped to distribute this to the police as a tool of pacification. I find it to be quite useful in channelling the Way."

"Did you sing to me that way too, when I was in the egg?"

"I did," she smiled. "And look at how you turned out."

"How come nobody else uses it?"

"I advised Leto against mass producing it. It is never wise to give out something born out of the wisdom of those that came before us too freely. Their power can be so easily misused, after all, and once I demonstrated how, he listened to my counsel."

"Misused? How?"

"Follow me, and I'll show you..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>She took Brutus out to the courtyard, activated the module, and destroyed an old statue by shouting at it.<p>

"One day," she said, as Brutus stared at her handiwork, "when you are ready, I will show you how to do that."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Good news! Good news! <em>

Those were Titus' shouts as he entered the manor after days of absence. Covered in dirt and sweat, he called for the family to gather in Leto's office.

"The Vorcha!" said Titus, as if that somehow explained everything.

"And?" prodded Leto.

"For reasons that I can't fathom, Gallienus ordered a kill-on-sight order on these aliens and—"

"Oh, spirits!" muttered Marcia. "To single out a single race for extermination!"

"The locals won't mind," said Leto, neutrally. "Vorcha are considered little more than vermin in this city."

"But that's the thing! These Vorcha are no vermin! They have functional societies, and they've turned the caves of Bindur into small settlements! What's more, they've been consuming element zero all their lives, and each of them is a capable biotic!"

Leto and Marcia looked at each other meaningfully. "How many are there?" asked Leto.

"Throughout the planet?" replied Titus. "Perhaps close to a million. In Omega alone? According to their chieftain, the local tribe numbers at six thousand. Six _thousand_, Leto! All of them capable and willing to fight for us!"

Leto, however, had doubts. "A defensive force of six thousand Vorcha would give Gallienus pause, but I'm concerned about their discipline. The Vorcha have not the best of reputations, and they are guilty of raiding many a food store. What will happen when they are overwhelmed? Will they stand with us? Or break, and run away? Can I even trust them not to betray us?"

"I know it's not a perfect solution," said Titus. "But what choice do we have?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The next day, a meeting with the Vorcha chief of Omega had been arranged. The chief's retinue — about a dozen warriors — were playing some kind of dice game in the dining hall, while Leto's guards kept an eye on them, assault rifle in hands. The warriors had been quite insistent about keeping their weapons: bone knives and primitive flintlock pistols.<p>

The strange creatures were clad in suits to make life in the desert bearable during the summer months, and Brutus found himself fascinated by the concept: For the suits seemed quite technologically remarkable, while simultaneously seeming quite low-tech, and granted the wearer the capacity to survive in a hostile environment.

_I can't wait to get my first hardsuit_, thought Brutus.

The Vorcha warriors didn't look like their images in the Codex. These ones' faces were longer and more gaunt, their skin was more leathery and matte, and their teeth were two even, level rows of slightly yellowing fangs rather than a mess of black spikes. Their eyes, rather than a sickly red, were a dark blue that glowed faintly even in the brightly lit room. According to the Codex, Vorcha mutated at least once in their lifetimes, to adapt to their environment. It made sense that those mutations would be passed on to their offspring, allowing them to evolve differently than their counterparts on Heshtok.

They often snarled at the guards whenever they came too close, but for Brutus... Brutus got appraising looks from them. A look that he often saw on her mother's face, when she tried to tell whether he was lying to her or not.

Unsettled, and forbidden to speak to the guests by the guards, Brutus left.

"Bashera..." muttered one of the Vorcha under its breath.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Leto greeted the strange, slouching grey-skinned creature clad in worn desert robes. In return, the Magistrate had expected snarls and spit to come out of its lipless, fanged mouth. He was surprised to hear a full sentence.<p>

"Hail Leto, Bringer of Water. You called, and Murad answers you." Murad's voice was hoarse, rumbling from deep within his bifurcated trachea. "Titus tells us that you are not of one mind with Gallienus."

"Indeed we are not. I wish to improve Bindur, not turn it into a police state."

"We know. You wish for us to combine our might and destroy him?"

"I am afraid it's not that simple. I cannot act directly against Gallienus, as he would be well within his rights to bomb me from orbit. I do wish, however, to survive the revolt his actions will soon cause."

"I do not understand. Is he not your enemy?"

"Yes, he is. But the laws of our people prevent him from acting against me directly, as well."

"Then what benefit could an alliance will do, if you cannot bring us Gallienus' corpse to dine on? He has his warriors hunt us for sport!"

"...If you work with me, I can provide your warriors with supplies and better weapons. In exchange, you protect this manor, and help us track down the Jester. If we deal with her and her terrorists once and for all, then Gallienus will look like an incompetent and his superiors will have him demoted. I cannot grant you vengeance, but he will not longer be able to hunt down your kind."

Murad considered Leto's word for a moment... then licked his own fangs, and spat a glob of glowing saliva onto the Magistrate's desk.

Leto could barely contain his fury. "Get out," he said tersely.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>All things considered, the Vorcha had left fairly quietly.<p>

"I don't understand!" said Titus, "Murad hates Gallienus with a passion!"

"That's precisely the problem," replied Leto. "He wanted vengeance, and I could not give it to him."

"...There are other tribes! The next closest one is 30 kilometres away from Omega, but I should be able to negotiate a deal with them as well. I'm told they have a more mercenary attitude."

"Then go to them, Titus. Take a few men with you, and some token of our wealth to negotiate with, but bring me aid at any cost!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In order to keep Leto's spirits up, Marcia had decided to throw a dinner party, and had invited his entire cabinet over. It was a vegetarian meal, made out of the produce from the manor's greenhouse. While Bindur had quite a bit of animal life, none of it was fit for Turian consumption.<p>

One of the guests, an elderly Turian by the name of Glaucus, droned on and on about the theater he had bought for his wife. None could blame him for that: as the minister of culture, it was his job to see to it that the people of Omega had something else to do in their free time besides drinking and whoring. What bothered Marcia, however, was that his trophy Asari wife was obviously the real power behind Glaucus' position. She had not been invited, but that did not keep Glaucus from going on and on about her, and the frivolous spending of his considerable wealth.

"You all must absolutely must come to the opera," he told Leto and the other guests. "My darling is on her latest fad: Human mythology! She's put together quite the show based on one of their great works... now what was it? Hm..." he snapped his fingers. "The Bubble!"

"The Bible," corrected Marcia.

"The Bible! Yes, that was it! She's put together quite the epic by combining that book with Turian myth! She hopes that it will help bridge the gap between our peoples, that is..." he stammered a bit. "Once it's a success here, of course."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Do we have to go?" complained Brutus as his mother buttoned his fancy suit. Marcia had already put on her own black gown, and had decorated her crest with jewels. "The opera sounds <em>boring<em>."

"We do, unfortunately. Your father hopes to make a statement by being there."

"You don't sound like you're too happy about going, either."

"In truth? I do not think it is wise, not with a so-called anarchist on the loose."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus had never been on a train before. It seemed so primitive, but he found the scenic path it took around the city to be quite nice. Still, he longed for the snow of an Antioch winter. Bindur just didn't have the precipitation and the temperature required. It was probably snowing back home, right now.<p>

"Did you build this, father?" asked Brutus.

"No," said Leto. "I restored it."

"What's the point? People have cars and trikes and flyers..."

"Many here can't afford those, and traffic is still a chaotic mess. A cheap mass transit system is essential to the functioning of any major city, Brutus. Once, somebody in Omega understood this, and I hope that the example I set will encourage others of similar attitude to make this a better place, long after I am gone."

"So that's why we're going to the opera. You want to show the Jester you're not afraid of her."

"Precisely." He nodded at his guards, dressed in plain clothes and sitting casually in the train car. "Of course, I would be foolish not to take precautions."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Day of Wrath<em> was a fairly somber, elegiac story about the last days of the Empire, but brought about by creatures that had judged it unfit to rule its people. These four creatures — winged humans called Archangels — had warned the emperor to change his ways or face destruction. Three times they did so, and each time, the Emperor did not heed them.

Brutus was fascinated, at first, as Titus often told him grand inspiring tales of the great men and women of the times of the empire. Leto, on the other hand, wasn't exactly pleased that his people's own history was being combined with human mythology. "Some stories don't belong together," he muttered under his breath.

Marcia, on the other hand, was watching for assassins.

The climax of the opera, the titular Day of Wrath, involved an entire swarm of angels coming down upon the Emperor and his forces. It was, to everyone's surprise, a very fine spectacle of live practical effects, with no holographics involved. Unfortunately for Brutus, it was far too good, and he felt himself be at once in the opera and back in that cave, years ago. His heart raced, and despite his mother's training he could not let his fear simply pass over him. His heart began to race.

"Father, please..."

Leto understood immediately what his son was going through, and nodded. "Let's go. Marcia?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Seeing reason, beloved?" said Marcia as she stepped through the fire exit and examined their surroundings carefully. The filthy back alley was dark and full of hiding spots, ideal for an ambush.<p>

"There's only so much opera I can take," said Leto, winking at his son. "And Glaucus is fired. That opera..." he winced, as if tasting something foul. "...was insulting. Now, just this way, and—"

"No," said Marcia. Let's... let's just call your men over here first, then leave."

Leto gave Marcia a look, and nodded.

Minutes later, the guards of the Valerius household came to escort them back to the train station.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry," said Brutus, as Marcia put him to bed.<p>

"Whatever for?" she asked.

"I couldn't control it— my fear, I mean. Your training—"

Marcia shushed him. "Some fears are harder to control than others, and the only the greatest of masters in the Way had complete and total control over their emotions."

"How long until I become a Master, then?"

"When you are old and wrinkly, after spending every waking moment meditating on the Way."

"Oh. So never, then."

Marcia laughed. "There are other ways. One day, you'll return to our old home in Antioch, and you'll confront the source of your fear."

"...And then what?"

"And then you'll embrace it, and it will become your strength. But until that day comes... Until you are ready to stand shoulder to shoulder with Titans in the guise of men, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

She rubbed the side of his head just so, and made him drift into sleep.

_"Everything..."_ she repeated.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus dreamed of those damnable birds again, dreamed of flapping, and screeching, and clawing. The opera resonated in his head, and the birds became archangels, inflicting the Wrath of this God of theirs upon him.<p>

Then, he dreamed of the egg, hatching, and the child inside crying. He wanted to reach out, and save it from the monsters in the dark, but couldn't, as he was not truly there.

When Brutus woke up, he was surprised to find that it was still dark outside. How long had he slept? Two hours, maybe? He wasn't sure, until he saw the light of dawn on the horizon. He walked up to the window, intent on closing the blinds.

It took a moment for him to realize that it was not the morning's light over the horizon... it was fire.

Omega was on fire.

Someone within the manor was shouting, and suddenly the entire manor shook. Gunfire and war cries exploded below, and more than a few bullets impacted against the thick, reinforced glass of Brutus' window.

"We're under attack!" someone yelled, as Marcia burst through the door.

"Brutus!" she shouted as she strode towards him. "We have to go, but first..." She wrapped a kinetic shield belt around his waist, and quickly snapped the buckle shut. "Follow me!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Titus, where are you?! <em>As he perforated his attacker's skull, he remembered that it was he that had sent him away to find reinforcements. What had happened to him? He should have been back by now...

"Why aren't the turrets working?!" shouted one of the guards as he suppressed a group of humans in rags and red war paint with his assault rifle.

"Someone shut them down!" shouted another guard as he tossed a concussion grenade.

_Titus had the codes, _thought Leto, then chased the idea away. _No!_ _Titus may be a fool, sometimes, but he is loyal!_

"Another wave incoming!"

A Krogan charged through, carrying a thick plate of metal in front of him as a makeshift shield. Leto primed a concussion grenade and tossed it low, and it detonated just beneath the oversized lizard, stunning him just long enough for him to lower his protection. Leto and his guards focused their fire on him until he went down, but the invaders that had been relying on him for protection had long entered the main hall.

They were, of course, thugs, with no sense of the difference between cover and concealment. Others thought their cheap shield belts made them invincible, and charged forward with flaming bottles of fuel in their hands.

"DEATH TO THE TYRANT!" screamed one of them, just before Leto shot him in the heart and his improvised incendiary bomb exploded all over some of his comrades. The rest had been finished off by arrows to the head.

"Beloved!" Marcia called out from the top of the staircase, compound bow in hand and Brutus trembling behind her.

"Marcia! Brutus!" Leto was relieved to see them both alive. He ran up to them and hugged them both. "Thank the spirits! Marcia! Head downstairs and—"

"The lower levels are overrun!" Marcia shouted. "It's not safe there!"

"The garage..."

"Destroyed! Have you called for aid?"

"We can't! Our communications are jammed! We can't even coordinate with anyone else in the manor!" Leto thought a moment. "The shuttle! Take the egg from the rookery, and head to the roof!" Leto gave one of his Mongoose pistols to Brutus. "Son, you remember what I taught you?"

Brutus nodded.

"You watch your mother's back, don't you _dare_ be a total burden to her." Leto turned to a pair of his guards. "And you! Watch over them!"

"You're not coming with us?" asked Marcia, fear and worry apparent on her face.

"It's me they want..."

A cluster of grenades exploded in the middle of the hall, and the attack resumed anew.

"I can't leave you here!" Marcia pleaded even as she loosed arrows into the invading horde.

"GO!" shouted Leto. "I SAID GO!"

Marcia hesitated, torn between her duty to her sons and her devotion to her beloved. In the end, she chose her sons. The name must live on, she knew. The legend must rise again.

And so, she left her Beloved behind.

They were so many of them, more than Leto's men could gun down. In the middle of that swarm of crazed fanatics one person walked slowly amongst the fires and the corpses.

She was an oily shadow in the shape of a woman, featureless save for her grinning mask of gold and ivory.

Leto stared into her empty, black eye sockets.

The Jester stared into his yellow eyes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The lone Krogan burst into the chamber, and there he found an egg.<p>

What a coincidence, he thought, for he had not had anything so rich to eat in years.

He smiled, and licked his lips at his prize.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcia's Omni-Tool beeped, and her face fell as she checked the garbled readouts.<p>

"...We are not going to the rookery. To the roof. We are going to the roof."

"My lady?" asked one of the guards.

"Mother?" asked Brutus. "We can't..."

"Do as I say!"

Just then, a nearby window shattered into little pieces, and Turian soldiers in black unmarked armour rappelled into the hall. Brutus had hoped that Titus had brought help, but that idea died along with the guard they shot.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Leto and his guard retreated slowly into the dining hall, keeping their distance from the enemy once the Jester had been dealt with. With that stand-off tactic, they had managed to kill hundreds, maybe thousands of their attackers. How many more were out there? Tens of thousands? A hundred? It didn't matter. He would buy time for his family to escape with the blood of his enemies.<p>

And then, the Jester reappeared, and killed one of his men with a Biotic Warp.

"Kill her!" he ordered his men.

The Jester died under a hail of gunfire, and her form liquefied into black ink, and reformed itself as the corpse of a Human girl, covered in war paint.

"What in the hells?!" exclaimed one of his men. "We killed her!"

"TAKE ME!" screamed a Drell on his knees, not caring about the gunfire around him. "TAKE ME, OH, JESTER! MY BODY IS YOURS! MY POWER IS AA_AAAAAR_RRrRgG_**GH**_..." The Drell's face peeled away to reveal the Jester's mask, and from that terrible wound black ink covered his entire body to reshape itself into the form of a woman.

Every time the Jester emerged, she killed one of Leto's men, and then Leto killed her in turn. Leto understood quickly that she was toying with him. Every death he inflicted on her was a statement: _I can kill you any time I want._

Eventually, Leto was all out of men, and it seemed the Jester was all out of hosts. It was just the two of them, engaged in a ranged duel: Leto with his Mongoose pistol, and the Jester with her biotics. The two were evenly matched, that is until Leto ran out of bullets. Sensing an opportunity to finish this, the Jester moved in for the kill...

... Only to get pistol-whipped in the face, and kicked in the abdomen so hard she was pushed against a pillar. The crack beneath her eye revealed a portion of her smooth purple skin. She felt the fissure in her mask with her fingers, then straightened herself up.

"I am going to _enjoy_ killing you, Mr. Valerius," she said, as she engaged him in a fist-fight.

In hand-to-hand combat, the Jester had all of the advantages: she was fast, she was flexible, and her biotics gave her far more power than her muscles ever could. Leto, on the other hand, had been out of practice for years, and his outdated gene-mods did not fend off middle age. He had become slower, and weaker. Only his will kept him going, even as the Jester jumped kicked him in the head and bruised his kidneys.

The Jester was surprised, then, when one of his blows managed to make her spin, giving him a chance to hold her in a chokehold. Using her flexibility, she kicked him in the face, but that did not stop him from snapping her neck all.

Three times, Leto defeated her. Three times, the Jester died.

"I tire of this. More." the Jester said finally. Then, dozens of her duplicates came through every door, and every hall.

"More, more more..." she muttered viciously, and the dozen became a hundred, and then three hundred...

And then she had herself a good laugh.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcia stabbed the Asari Commando in the heart with her gleaming knife, only to find herself assaulted by a crazed Vorcha with a hatchet. She twisted his arm to disarm him, and buried the hatchet into its brains.<p>

Brutus helped his mother whenever he could by shooting anyone that aimed a weapon at her. Unfortunately, shooting in a firing range was not the same as shooting in a firefight. Live targets moved unpredictably, and enemies shot back. The screaming and explosions and fire... they did not help with the shaking of his hands. Following his father's advice, Brutus aimed for center mass, and more often than not he hit his target. When said target was unprotected, it went down easily, but when it wore armour, the best he could hope for was to stagger it.

Marcia, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of death. Anyone that wandered within her reach found himself cut apart: even the enemy Turian soldiers. She slowed her blade, just so, to penetrate their shields and make it reach their hearts.

Once they could manage to become unseen, Brutus followed Marcia stealthily through the manor, even as fire and more gunfire raged. Brutus saw the Jester's men and women celebrate in the museum as if the battle was already won. Some of them threw incendiaries on his father's banners while others sat and drank as they watched one of the guards hang by the neck from a chandelier.

"Look at him struggle!" laughed one of them, a Krogan. Brutus wanted nothing more than to kill them all, and save the poor man.

"Put your gun down." whispered his mother.

"But..."

"We can do nothing for him. Keep moving."

That was when some of their enemies turned into a dark woman in a mask, and they pointed in Brutus' direction.

"Run!" ordered Marcia.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The rooftop was mostly clear, save for a handful of the Jester's gang and a couple of mercenaries that were trying to get the shuttle working. Marcia and Brutus dispatched them quickly, and they both ran for the shuttle.<p>

_Just a few more steps, and we will be on our way to safety._ Thought Marcia, as she desperately tried to hide her own exhaustion.

The gunship rose above them, killing any hope of escape as it loosed a volley of missiles.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Brutus..."<em>

There was a ringing in Brutus' ears as he struggled to get back up. His eyes refused to focus on anything. The fire, the smoke, the debris, the blood... nothing. He felt nauseous as something trickled on the back of his head. He touched the fresh wound there, covering his talon with his own blood.

_"...don't be scared."_

"Mother...?"

The only reply was the noise of a knife piercing the flesh, over and over again, and the death rattle of a woman.

"Not quite," said the Jester as she kicked Brutus in the stomach. The boy screamed in pain, clutched his stomach, then tried to get back up again.

The Jester kicked him again. "I know I shouldn't be enjoying this so much... but your daddy really, REALLY pissed me off. Seriously, why can't you just do as you're told and DIE?"

The Jester kicked Brutus one last time, before grabbing him by the throat and lifting him up, letting him have a good look at the blazes that raged all across Omega, and eight of her avatars violently picking at a corpse like a pack of vultures, their masks covered in streaks of blood.

"...There's something I was wondering about you Turians..." she walked to the edge of the roof, and looked down. "I mean, the adults are obviously too big, but you kids? You can do it, right? How about it?"

Brutus could only groan weakly.

"So, how about it, birdie?" She brought her face close to his, and asked: "Can you fly?"

Brutus screamed as he fell down the eight stories of the burning manor, feeling absolute terror as a screaming demon made out of flame and shadow rushed up to meet him—

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus gasped as he woke up. He had expected fire and pain. Instead, he saw a cold metal ceiling and heard the quiet hum of machines.<p>

"How is he?" asked a man whose voice he couldn't recognize.

"He's very lucky," said a woman. "Lots of fractured ribs, but what worries me the most is the soft tissue damage to the brain."

"Is it bad?"

"Nothing severe, but the damage is in the parietal lobe. He may have some long term memory issues when he's older."

"Maybe it's for the best."

"Maybe. That poor child... excuse me, there are others I have to tend to."

"Mommy?" Brutus muttered, hoping that the woman's voice belonged to Marcia. He heard someone approach, and looming over him was a middle-aged, grey skinned Turian. His face was lanky, and his cheeks were covered with dark blue stripes.

"Hey," the man said. "Don't worry, you're safe, now."

"Where am I?" asked Brutus.

"Aboard the corvette_ Molossus. _My name's 's your name?"

"Brutus Valerius," the boy muttered.

Thaddeus' eyes widened. "..._Spirits_."

"How... how did I get here?"

"...Someone left you at our doorstep, just as we were about to evacuate."

"Was it... was it my father?!" Brutus tried to get up, but Thaddeus restrained him.

"Calm down! You're still hurt!"

"My mother! I have to find my mother! The egg! The EGG! WE HAVE TO GO BACK TO THE EGG!"

Thaddeus grabbed him by the shoulders. "They're all dead, boy! Dead!"

"...No. No! I don't believe you!"

"I'm sorry — There's no one left! We looked, believe me we looked but—"

"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Brutus shoved his thumb in Thaddeus' eye, darted out of the stretcher, and went looking for his family.

"Kid, wait!" shouted Thaddeus, but Brutus was long gone.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The corvette's cargo hold was packed with close to a hundred refugees: engineers, police officers, wounded soldiers. It might as well have been a thousand to Brutus, as everyone was so tightly packed together. The <em>Molossus<em> was, after all, a fairly small ship.

"Father?" he called out, but no one answered him.

"Mother?" he called again, and the only reply he got was a soldier going through a coughing fit.

"Titus?" No one answered by that name. No one recognized Brutus in his burnt clothes, his filthy skin, and bloody bandages.

He swam through the sea of people, checking every face, not knowing that there were thousands more refugees scattered across hundreds of ships such as this.

Two engineers were fiddling with a holoscreen, trying to get it to work.

"Come on, there's gotta be a signal out there," said one, as he turned the dial.

"What's the point? The only thing we're gonna get is military com chatter, and those will be encrypted."

"Maybe, but someone might have put out a distress call, or... or something. Look, I just want to know what's happening out there. It's been hours since we went into orbit."

"Wait, you got something!"

"Oh, wow, it's on every channel!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Jester had been waiting for this for a very, <em>very<em> long time. It was simply not enough to have a hand in nearly every criminal enterprise that came through Omega, the silent partner of every pimp, every drug baron, every slaver that came through the city. Her connections gave her power, yes, but it wasn't enough.

No, the Jester wanted something more. To BE something more, something greater than just the owner of a seedy bar, greater than just a criminal. She wanted to become a legend, and the greatest of legends had fought the greatest of enemies.

And what better enemy than a tyrant?

Sadly, the Turians had not sent a tyrant, they had sent something else: A builder, a healer, a 'bringer of water' as the locals had called him. It had taken quite a bit of time, but her lies and twisted words found an audience: young, idealistic idiots that believed that any form of law and order was tyranny. Her backers were more practical, seeing Valerius as a potential obstacle to their enterprises. They wanted him gone. They didn't care how.

The Jester cared. _Theatrics were everything._ The one at the center of the stage would reap all the glory, all the love, all the power.

Atop the roof of the manor, she saw her handiwork. Her gangs were destroying everything Leto had built: the clinics, the water treatment plants, the hydroponics even the train stations. To them, these were symbols of slavery. _Idiots,_ The Jester thought. _The joke's on you. Without these things, the Terminus merchants will bleed you all dry._

Just below her, her 'loyal followers', thousands of them, were in the middle of celebrating their victory over the 'tyranny of the Hierarchy'. They were an eclectic bunch of many races from across the galaxy, united by the fact that they were all poor, and young, and stupid, and eager to believe in anything. The 'mercenaries', of course, were long gone, but that was fine. She didn't need them to hear this.

_A speech._ A speech was crucial at a time like this, when spirits were high. She eyed the crowd, and saw the cameramen she had placed. Worm's eye view: Ideal to make her appear greater than she really was. She slowly, and gracefully removed her mask.

"PEOPLE OF OMEGA!" her voice boomed, amplified by nearby sound systems. "The Hierarchy believed that they had beaten you! They believed they had you under control! They believed that you would blindly obey their laws!"

The crowd below paused their celebrations, and soon all eyes were on her.

"You are the lawless of the galaxy! And together you proved them to be gravely mistaken! Together, you have taken a jewel from the clutches of an empire! And together, you can do so much more! Look around you! Look at what you've brought into the world! True anarchy, the start of a free state, a _Flux State_, a nation ruled by those with the strength of will to be _truly free_!"

The crowd cheered, and the Jester smiled.

"But a beginning is a very delicate time! This fledgling nation will be prey to threats both from within and without! It needs a guide, someone with the wisdom and the will necessary to ensure that will endure the next thousand years! Tell me, is one among you who is up to the task? Who better for the task, than the very voice that united you all?!"

They all knew the answer, but not yet... not yet! They needed a present, an offering...

"Who better than the one that sought out the hearts of the beast and cut them out?!"

She lifted her offering, a greater symbol to Turian dominion than all the farms, all the clinics, and all the water. She lifted it up, for all to see:

The severed heads of Leto Valerius and Marcia Atreus.

"All of you... say my name!"

**"ARIA!"** cheered the crowd below.

"SAY MY NAME!"

**"ARIA! ARIA! ARIA! ARIA!"**

Aria T'loak raised her head, and closed her eyes, smiling, savouring this moment. And just like that, she had cast off the identity of the Jester. Soon... soon she would be _Queen_.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Aria<em>. The name echoed, over and over, inside of Brutus' head. All sound seemed to fade away. He couldn't hear Thaddeus walk beside him to shake him out of his daze. He couldn't hear him as he shouted at the two techs to turn the holoscreen off, and he could barely hear when he said:

"It's going to be all right... it's going to be all right..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>SEARCH RESULTS FOR: OMEGA, NEWS.<em>

OMEGA RIOTS OVERWHELM LOCAL PEACEKEEPING FORCES, TEN THOUSAND SOLDIERS DEAD.

MAGISTRATE LETO VALERIUS KILLED IN OMEGA RIOTS

UNITED PIRATE FLEET ATTACKS OMEGA — Fifty Hierarchy warships lost, General Gallienus orders retreat, saves fleet.

GENERAL BLAMES VALERIUS FOR THE LOSS OF BINDUR

COUNCIL DECLARES BINDUR PART OF THE TERMINUS SYSTEMS — Major military traffic forbidden.

PRIMARCH AUGUSTUS FORCED TO STEP DOWN

GALLIENUS PROMOTED TO PRAETOR

_CADUCEUS_ TO BE DISSOLVED, ASSETS GRANTED TO ELKOSS COMBINE

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus stared out of the hovercar's window, watching the road and the trees and the houses stream by as the vehicle moved inches above the smooth concrete. Above him, the sky was grey, spitting light rain down his way.<p>

"It's a quiet place," said Thaddeus from the driver's seat. My house, I mean. It's in a small town in the countryside. Nothing much happens there, except for the occasional military drill. If it gets too quiet, It's a short bus ride to the city. Does that sound good?"

Brutus nodded.

"You won't be alone, either. Livilla is a good woman, and our daughter... well, she's a handful, sometimes, but they'll treat you like family, if you treat them as such in kind."

Brutus nodded.

"Do you remember what we spoke of?"

He remembered. Thaddeus had told him that some bad men were after him, and that if he didn't want them to find him, then he would have to lie about who he was. Brutus nodded.

"Good," said Thaddeus, a bit relieved but not happy about forcing a boy to lie. "That's good."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Daddy's back! Daddy's back! Daddy's back!" shouted Solana as she came down the stairs. Livilla finished her prayer to her small shrine, and joined her daughter in greeting her returning husband, hoping that this time he would be able to stay a bit longer.<p>

Her heart sank when she opened the door, and Thaddeus approached with a child in tow, easily twice Solana's age. He was a gloomy looking boy, clad in black and carrying a small suitcase.

Livilla felt outrage, suddenly believing that Thaddeus had brought a bastard — the fruit of unfaithfulness — to the home of his wife and child. She calmed herself, however, thinking that Thaddeus would be able to explain himself.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus merely stared into nothing as Solana played with her toys. Meanwhile, over in the kitchen, Thaddeus and Livilla argued in hushed tones. They thought they were far enough away, but Brutus could hear them just fine.<p>

"You promised, Thaddeus! You promised that you would never, NEVER bring your work into our home!"

"What was I supposed to do, just leave him?"

"No, you should have let the Hierarchy decide his fate!"

"The system would kill him!"

"Then so be it! Who are you to decide otherwise?! How... How DARE you put the life of the son of a FAILURE above those of your own family?!"

"This is bigger than me, or us. And we won't be in any danger once I call in a few favours. He'll be family!"

"No..." Livilla was on the verge of tears. "You CANNOT ask me to love a... that THING is full of spirits of death and disgrace! It will bring doom upon us all!"

"Then take him to Temple if it will make you feel better!" Spirits, as much as he loved his wife, she could very well try his patience some times. "Livilla, _please..._ he didn't ask for any of this. He needs help, our help. Nobody else can provide it."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Solana didn't understand why the boy sitting on the couch wouldn't smile. What wasn't there to smile about? The world was full of toys, and mommy, and daddy, and trees and dirt and bugs to play with!<p>

"Do you want to play?" she said, presenting the figurine of an Imperial Knight in front of him.

The boy shook his head. That meant no.

Solana said "Okay," and kept on playing with her toys. She decided that the Knight could switch helmets with the Legionary, and yanked at its head a little too hard.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Yes..." said Thaddeus into the phone. "Look, I can't give you any more details over this line, but I will be calling in that favour—"<p>

Just then, Brutus screamed. Thaddeus ended the call and rushed to the living room, finding a terrified Solana hiding behind a couch while Brutus kept on going, pausing only to take a breath. In many ways, this outburst was kind of a relief, as the boy had not made a sound ever since he saw that horrible display.

Thaddeus saw what Brutus was staring at:

It was an action figure, missing its head.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter 2162<strong>_

Livilla had tried. Truly, she had, but the boy simply would not give up. At first, it had been childish stubbornness, but soon it was obvious the orphan was doing this out of spite.

It was custom, after an adoption, to bring the child to a temple to be baptised in a pool upon receiving his new name, to purify him and free him of the spirits of the past. And the boy's past was a terrible one, one that would bring about a terrible future until dealt with.

Even after that ceremony, the boy refused to answer to any other name than _Brutus_. The idea that he would utter that accursed family name afterwards, bringing doom down upon their heads, drove her to the edge of madness.

After a year of him taunting her, she had had enough. The priests would not allow another ceremony, so every night she made a bath and put his head under the water, praying to the spirits that he would simply STOP using that name forever.

It would be so simple to never let him come up for air, so simple to do away with the threat to her family. But Thaddeus would know, and would never forgive her.

Eventually, Brutus relented, and relief washed over her. _Spirits be praised!_ she thought. _Spirits be praised!_

Thaddeus never knew and would never know what she did.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter, 2163<strong>_

Thaddeus hadn't been to a pre-military school in decades. This was an institution meant to prepare children between the age of ten and fourteen for their mandatory tour of military service. To prepare... and to evaluate. Even the most recalcitrant of troublemakers would make it into the military. The report cards would signal the drill sergeants just how much work they would have to do to shape them into proper, obedient soldiers.

Thaddeus was shown to the infirmary, where Brutus was waiting for him. His face was bruised, and his arm was bandaged.

Thaddeus sighed, said nothing, and sat next to his son.

"I'm very disappointed in you."

"He was a bully."

"He's two years your senior and he's earned more merits—"

"His merits give him the right to demand 'tribute' from the smaller children? Our food? Our money? His merits certainly didn't protect him." Brutus chuckled cruelly.

"...He's your _senior,_" chided Thaddeus. "There are better ways to go about dealing with problems than breaking his arms. And do you _really_ think that'll be the end of it? Bullies don't appreciate the other side of deterrence."

"I _tried_ to do it the proper way."

"And?"

"_Nothing_ changed."

"...I see." Thaddeus honestly couldn't blame Brutus for lashing out like that. Schools such as these had a tendency to prize bullies as potential leaders while students with the audacity to complain were viewed with scorn. Thaddeus got through school by being quiet, and not drawing attention to himself.

It let him gather information on those that truly annoyed him, and come graduation... well, let's just say some students suddenly found themselves with quite a few demerits, all of a sudden.

"Son, you need to have faith in the system. We _all_ get what we earn, and it's not enough to ask for someone's head when you know he did wrong. You need _proof_. Do you understand?"

Brutus nodded. After a moment, he looked at Thaddeus straight in the eye. "Is it true?"

"What is?"

"That you're going to the Citadel?"

"...C-Sec has re-instated me, yes. They need me over there."

Brutus began to sniffle. "Can't I come with you?"

"I'm sorry. You know I wouldn't be able to take full care of you while on the job. And besides? Your mother and sister are right here, and you'll be fifteen soon enough." Thaddeus rubbed Brutus' shoulder, comforting him. "Come on, let's go home."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter, 2167<strong>_

The Drill Sergeant had taken a particularly strong dislike for Brutus, and Brutus... Brutus thought the man took himself way too seriously. It was easy to set the man off on a tirade that he just couldn't help himself.

There was more to it than that, however. Sergeant Ursicinus liked to take recruits well past their breaking point. It was part of the job, of course. You HAD to break a man to rebuild him into a soldier, but Ursicinus _loved_ to do it. To his superiors, it simply looked like bad luck: too many candidates that just didn't have what it takes. To Brutus, Ursicinus was a bully, denying many young turians their citizenship because it made him feel big.

And Brutus knew better than to hope that the Sergeant would ever be demoted for being what he was.

Still, even he had buttons to push. Brutus found out that Ursicinus didn't like it when people pointed out the holes in his stories of personal glory and honour and duty.

"You think you're a funny boy," said the Sergeant as he cracked the whip on Brutus' back. "But I know how to break people like you. It's my _speciality_."

"Everyone needs a hobby, I guess." Brutus thought that wasn't his best, but when Ursicinus kicked him in the kidneys, he knew he had pissed him off.

After a week in the box, Brutus would still not give the Sergeant the respect he thought he deserved, so a change of tactics had been in order. Whenever Brutus got out of line, _everyone else_ in the unit got punished.

And instead of blaming the Sergeant, they blamed Brutus.

They pinned him to the bed one night. "Shut your fucking mouth, or we'll shut it for you," one of them had snarled in the dark.

Brutus decided that needling the Sergeant wasn't worth it, after all.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter, 2168<strong>_

Graduation ' dossier was a victory for the Hierarchy's war machine: undeniable proof that everyone that went through it came out a fine obedient soldier. The ceremony was brief. Parents had come to congratulate their sons and daughters, but Brutus wondered what was the point? Graduation was kind of inevitable.

Thaddeus was in the Citadel, and Brutus was fairly certain Livilla hated him, but he didn't quite understand why. Thus, he stood alone while everyone else were patting each other on the back, telling each other how happy and how proud they were.

He was called into an office. The two officers there told him he would be part of 19th Riflemen's Legion. An honoured unit.

"With your marksmanship scores you're on the fast-track to becoming part of a scout sniper team," said one of them.

"Don't I get a choice in the matter?" asked Brutus.

The officers looked at each other curiously. "No. Why would you want to become anything else than what you're suited best for?"

"I thought I might be able to join the Medical corps..."

"Son, I've seen your scores: Marksmanship 99, First Aid: 65. You're a killer, not a healer, and pretending to be anything else is a waste of time."

Brutus had suddenly wanted to argue the point. It seemed so important to join the Medics, to save lives... but he simply could not remember why. Something about a human? "Sorry I brought it up, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter 2169<strong>_

One's unit was supposed to feel like a brotherhood. One's unit had a spirit that bound all members together. Why then, did Brutus feel like he simply didn't belong? Being a scout sniper had been fine with him. There was little need to socialize with anyone beyond your assigned partner, and even that could be trying, sometimes.

Maybe it was because his 'brothers' in boot camp had threatened to kill him for calling out the Drill Sergeant's bullshit, once upon a time. That had soured him on the concept of camaraderie.

"There he is." The spotter had found the target, some pirate leader with strong military training. The plan was to shoot him first then overwhelm the gang as every one of them panicked. "He's on top of that APC. You see him?"

"I see him." Sniper rifles felt good in Brutus' hands. The world seemed to slow down a bit, and he could feel himself relax when he looked down the scope. His breath became slower, and his heartbeat slowed down to a crawl. The woman's voice came again, telling him how the shot could be achieved.

What was her name? He knew her name, once. He even called to her in his sleep, years ago, but now he just couldn't remember it.

The back of his head hurt.

It didn't matter. It was time to take the shot.

Just as he was about the pull the trigger, he heard something high above. It was the call of a bird, and his eyes shot up to see a majestic wingspan. It reminded him of something, something important that had eluded him for years, and he felt that just by looking at the eagle long enough, he could remember what that thing was.

"Hey. Hey! You're gonna lose him!"

Brutus looked back down, and sighted the target in his scope. The pirate had just ducked into his APC.

"Great. Just great," muttered the spotter. "Hours of tracking and you let him—"

Brutus took the shot, and the bullet went through the APC's forward window slit, piercing the driver's skull and then the pirate leader's eye.

"...Huh." was all the spotter could manage to say.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Shore leave. Brutus' first time with an Asari brought out a wild, hidden passion in him, one that scared him — but the Asari in question said she liked the rough stuff. She even coached him on how to choke her properly. He hadn't even realized he had been doing it, and panicked a bit.<p>

She shushed him, and said that she would take over from there... and she made him feel so much better.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Winter 2175<strong>_

Years of killing targets, and Brutus felt a disquiet in his heart. He wanted to understand why he was fighting, and the Hierarchy gave him only orders, not justifications. A visit had convinced Brutus that his talents should be put to the service of C-Sec. At least then there would be no doubt as to who he was shooting and why: Criminals, because they were evil.

C-Sec had accepted his application, and Thaddeus had come home to celebrate with him.

"I've got something for you," he had said, and presented to Brutus a pistol case. "It's a Mongoose 2mm." he said, as he opened it. "Powerful gun. I had it refurbished, just for you."

"It's an antique," chided Brutus as he picked it up and felt its grip. He examined the weapon's 25 centimetre barrel, and wondered why anyone would want a barrel that long. "And 2mm is for light autocannons, not pistols."

"It's a hunter's weapon," said Thaddeus. "Ideal for the big game." Suddenly, Thaddeus gave Brutus a look, as if gauging his reaction.

"Hey, I didn't mean to complain, It's a fine gift. I don't think they'll let me use it on duty, however."

"Go see the quartermaster about that. He'll get the gun to C-Sec specs and give you a permit for it."

"Thanks, old man." He put the Mongoose down on the table and pulled his father into a hug.

"Make me proud out here, son."

"I will."

"Oh, have you told your mother?"

"Hm? No, not yet."

"Well, go on!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Spring 2177<strong>_

Thaddeus had put in a good word for Brutus, and after six months in the academy and six more patrolling the Presidium, he had been quickly assigned to Special Response.

He hated Special Response. It was, for all intents and purposes, a military unit, called upon to kill people that C-Sec couldn't deal with any other way. Killing crooks was fine, but he had heard that plenty of criminals were on the loose, and that there wasn't enough evidence to give them their well deserved punishment. Brutus thought he could do better, so he quickly requested reassignment to Investigations. He passed the exam with flying colours.

First week, and he already regretted his decision. There was a lot of red tape involved in an investigation, not to mention an arrest. It was almost as if C-Sec wanted crooks to get away. Sure, the drug pusher was as good as dealt with once one got so much as a smudge of red sand on him, but anyone rich enough to afford a smart lawyer could get away with murder just long enough to vanish into the Terminus.

Outwardly, he appeared to be the perfect, by-the-book detective. Inwardly? Brutus felt lost, torn between his instincts and his duty, and couldn't think of a way out of that maze of emotions except than to quit.

Still, he was behaving. As he didn't want to disappoint his father.

"You've been assigned a new partner, rookie," said the Sergeant. She wasn't Brutus' direct superior, but they were on amicable terms. "I'm told it's a Constable fresh out of the academy. Good scores, though."

"...Have I done something wrong?" he asked.

"No, why do you ask?"

"Then why am I on baby-sitting duty?"

"From the looks of things I think the constable's supposed to be baby-sitting YOU. You're on the arson case, right? You're definitely going to need the muscle. Pyromaniacs are the worst."

"Muscle? We hire Krogan, now?"

"Wouldn't that be something?" she laughed. "Nah, probably some Huntress with an overcharged Biotic amp." She winked at him. "Lucky you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Brutus was told to meet his new partner at parking lot twelve. Apparently, she would be the one driving him around. He quickly found her, a blue asari in a patrol uniform wearing a scarf over her head. She was leaning against a brand new X3m, enjoying a cigarette.<p>

He cleared his throat, interrupting her smoking.

"Can I help you?"

"Yeah, need to get to a hospital in Shalta Ward."

"And?"

"...And you're going to drive me there."

"Buddy, my shift just ended... though I think your ride's just arriving."

An old SydMotors Spinner still painted in the old colours of C-Sec — black with white stripes — came in for a landing, and Brutus could tell that the driver was still new to piloting a hover car. Then again, the awkward swaying could have been because that car had seen better days. "Aw, spirits. I must have done something to piss my superiors off: They've sent me a death trap."

"Heh, have fun with that," said the Asari, as she walked away.

To Brutus' relief, the Spinner didn't crash and burn, and landed fairly smoothly. Just as he approached the antique car, the driver's door hissed open, and a brown-haired Human wearing reflective golden shades walked out to greet him.

"Police Constable 1st class Adam Jensen," he said.

...

_"Adama, if it's a boy."_

_..._

Constable Jensen held out his hand, and Brutus wanted to ask him where he got that black hardsuit he was wearing under his constable's uniform. It took him a moment to realize that it wasn't a hardsuit at all: this human had mechanical arms.

This Human was a _cyborg_.

After a moment's hesitation, Brutus shook the cyborg's hand. No reason to be impolite, after all. "Vakarian. Garrus Vakarian."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Citadel. A city hidden in a cloud of pale light deep in the blackness of space. In this home to millions there is a craft that had helped protect and serve the inhabitants of this station for close to a century. It rose into the sky, called upon to serve once more. Inside of it rode two men who had felt the tragedy of loss and the bitterness of defeat, and yet were still driven to protect others. One was the heir of a legacy. Another was the last echo of a time long forgotten.<p>

_But just when you think all is lost, you shall meet a kindred spirit... just as lost as you are, but also just as driven and as strong as you are._

A transmission was sent out. "All cruisers be advised we have a hostage situation over at Upper Zakera. Do not engage the escape vehicle, repeat, do not engage escape vehicle as explosives have been detected..."

The craft, called the spinner, suddenly shone in flashes if red and blue, its sirens blaring as a warning to all as it sped towards the tip of one of the city's arms.

_Together, you will be able to find your way back..._

_Back where, mother?_

_Towards your destiny, my child._

...

* * *

><p>Winter, 2161<p>

Tap, Tap, Tap.

The Krogan raged as his prize was lost.

Tap, Tap, Tap.

Down it went, bouncing between the rocks.

Down went the egg, deep, deep into the chasm.

Crack, Crack, Crack,

Until finally

in the rivulet it landed

Ruined, and bleeding.

Eyes shone blue in the dark, watching, snarling

until a small claw came out,

and a cry emerged from the ruined shell.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's notes<span>**: So yeah, nobody's surprised. Garrus is Brutus. Why such a huge departure from canon? Because you can't have Space Batman without the tragic loss.

I am well aware that canonically, Turians are viviparous, but I decided to make them oviparous here. Why? Meh, figured it would be more interesting. Also, YES, I know the parietal lobe of the brain has nothing to do with memories in human brains. In Turians, however, it managed long term memory.

As for Omega not being a space station, well, the more I thought about the concept of a huge station built on a hollowed out asteroid, the more I realized that it didn't make sense. Once all the Element Zero ran out, what's the point of anyone sticking around? Omega should have been abandoned a long, long time ago.

Now, a single mining city for one planet rich in element zero? Yeah, I can see that having a long, long history.

Everything I know about managing a city, I learned from Sim City.


	49. Chapter 43: Blood Music

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 43: Lessons in Ancient History and Physics.

or

Loads and Loads of exposition

or...

...Blood Music.

* * *

><p>Spellcheck by WarpObscura<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"The truth of art keeps science from becoming inhuman, and the truth of science keeps art from becoming ridiculous."<strong>_

—_**Raymond Chandler**_

* * *

><p>"Something I can do for you?" asked Hein. The DARPA Chief was sitting at his desk in his office aboard the Durendal. He motioned at Adam to take a seat, even as he toyed with his chess pieces.<p>

"Got a few questions I was hoping you could answer," said Adam as he pulled up a chair.

"Ask away."

"It's about Ramsus and his abilities."

"His biotics?"

"Don't be coy. I meant his mind-reading and the fact that he could make a man's head explode."

"Ah, his Psionics. What about them?"

"...Wait, you don't sound all that surprised."

"Of course I'm not. The Shadow Broker and I know a great deal about the Illuminati, and we know that they've been trying to unlock the secrets of the Gift for centuries."

"Why am I not surprised? A mind-reader would be the ultimate spying tool."

"Indeed. And they've come a long way since the Crusades... especially after they started experimenting with Element Zero."

"So there _is_ a connection between Dark Energy and Psionics."

"There is, but what that relationship is, exactly..." he chuckled. "Well, that's still a bit of a mystery."

"And before they got their hands on Element Zero? I assume they must have had some success, seeing as they didn't give up on the concept."

Hein nodded, then winced. "Well, it's a bit more complicated than that. You see, humans with moderate psychic abilities, such as strong empathy or even psychometry, had popped up here and there throughout history without any kind of interference. But they were extremely rare."

"How rare?"

"About one in ten million."

"...Damn."

"Yeah. So you can imagine the Illuminati would be very interested in increasing the birth rate of psychics somehow. They tried eugenics, and they've had moderate successes... right up until World War II... Let's just say blondes were no more likely to turn into psychics than anyone else." Hein laughed. "Silly Nazis. Centuries of work, ruined."

"Seeing as a lot of Nazi Germany science projects got hijacked by the United States after the war, I take it they tried their hand at it, next?"

"Right you are. It started with Project MKULTRA, a joint operation between the CIA's Scientific Intelligence Division and The Army's Chemical Corps' Special Operations Division in the 1950s. The purpose of MKULTRA and its offshoots was, simply put, mind control."

"And they researched psychics to do it?"

"Not quite. They were more interested in altering mental states and brain functions through more conventional means: hypnosis, sensory deprivation, isolation, verbal and sexual abuse, torture..." As he sounded off each method, Hein counted them with his fingers.

"That's just great," said Adam, sarcastically.

"...And — this is the important part here — _drugs_. Officially, MKULTRA only used LSD, barbiturates and amphetamines, but in truth they came up with some very, VERY interesting compounds which resulted in some very interesting results: enhanced intuition, reflexes that bordered on prescience..."

"And the Illuminati were watching with great interest."

"Quite. MKULTRA kickstarted the Illuminati's first real foray into Psionics — Engineering, applied to the mind. When MKULTRA got canned, they gathered all the relevant data and personel, and began the Imaginary Number Project. They found subjects with ideal genetic markers, pumped them full of neuro-chemicals, and strapped them to machines reverse-engineered from Soviet experiments. The results were much, much better than what was attempted before."

"And yet, the world isn't overrun with Psychics. I don't recall encountering any in my time."

"Or maybe you did, but you don't remember." Hein smiled. "But you're right. Few survived the enhancement process. Out of a thousand, maybe seven would survive. And while they were mentally powerful they were physically unfit for field work. You may not have encountered them, but they were most likely watching you."

"Huh. That would explain why the Illuminati always seemed one step ahead. Still, that was before the Collapse. What about after?"

"After the Collapse, the Order Church managed to collar the handful of descendants from the project's successes and restarted the experiments, this time based on work done by the Versalife Corporation for Majestic 12. The result? The Phantom Society."

"Phantom Society. I kept hearing that name, among others. Some kind of black ops group?"

"The Order Church's own black ops group, yes."

"Bit hypocritical of them to use nanotech while condemning it."

"Oh come on, you're not exactly new at this: are you really all that surprised that they would do so?"

"...Not really. And it's only hypocrisy when they get caught, right?"

"Right you are."

"And Majestic 12?"

"An offshoot of the Illuminati, founded when they realized that they needed to control post-atomic technology if they wanted to maintain their grip over the world. In the 2030's it rebelled against the Illuminati leadership and took it over. With their resources, _The Majestic Council of the Twelve_ pretty much ruled the world. They were led by... well, let me give you a clue. Ahem!" Hein cleared his throat, and his voice became much more nasal. _"Please, call me Bob."_

"...Page." Adam practically snarled the name out loud.

"You met him."

"Some time before Sarif put me on ice, yeah."

"Yes, well, then you know what kind of scumbag he was before Denton blew him up."

"That's another name I keep hearing a lot. I know he had something to do with the Collapse, but not much else. What do you know about him?"

Hein took a deep breath, leaned back into his comfy chair, and tented his fingers. "Before the Collapse, JC Denton was a prototype MJ-12 had created to test out its nano-augmentation architecture. Before the Collapse, Denton was a man trying to find his way in a maze of mirrors."

"And after the Collapse?"

Hein swivelled his chair, and stared out at the stars. "He saw the destruction he caused, and _became_ the Illuminati to restore the world as it was, and make it a better place."

"...So. The state of the world is all his fault?"

"Mostly."

"And yet Lunch seems to worship him."

"Denton wasn't some simple cartoon villain. Like Adam Weishaupt before him, Denton had restored the Illuminati with the best of intentions."

"That sounds suspiciously like admiration," said Jensen, his tone almost accusing.

"Admiration? Maybe, but I mostly pity him, just like I admire and pity anyone who tried to make the world a better place, and would have succeeded were it not for petty ambitions. History has a way of repeating itself, and it wasn't long before other members of Denton's Illuminati had their own ideas about what to do with the world."

"Let me guess: those other members with other ideas killed him?"

"Yep." Hein turned his chair back to face Adam. "As to what any of this has to do with the corpse down in the morgue, well..." Hein tossed a holographic document towards Adam's Omni-Tool, which prompted its user to accept it. "Denton wrote quite a paper on the potential applications on a portable universal constructor, considering every angle, even theological and sociological ones. It's a long read, though."

"I'll get to it once I have time."

"As for what that has to do with Ramsus, the silver rod he handed to you is a container for billions of the most advanced nano-machines in the world. Each one is cored with a pair of atoms of an Element Zero derivative which serves as a sort of antenna."

"...Which allows them to be controlled by any psychic augmented with biotics," Adam concluded. "Together, they make a small Universal Constructor."

"Exactly. It also allows the nanomachines to float in a gas-like state. Before? Nanite swarms could only move in a liquid state, each nanite supporting the other."

"And now people can just breathe the stuff. Scary." Adam sighed, thinking about the horrible implications of a an entire population breathing in the stuff. What would this Phantom Society be able to do, then? "So to sum up, Ramsus is the result of an eugenics program started in the Middle-Ages, Nazi science, a CIA project, Illuminati psionics research, Soviet engineering, and modern day biotics? Oh, and his extended family came together thanks to a paper written by JC Denton?"

"Blows your mind, doesn't it?"

"A bit, yeah."

"But wait! There's more! Or there will be, once Brea and Ross are done examining Ramsus' corpse. They'll share their findings in the briefing room, along with Grey's report on his encounter with the 'angels', and yours."

"My what?"

"Your report. I want everyone on this ship to be on the same page — well, almost everyone: I don't quite trust the Krogan, yet."

"And you expect me to make a presentation?"

"Yep!"

"I'm not one of your employees, Hein," said Adam, annoyed.

"True, you're not obligated to do it, but the Deep Eyes, Brea, Manah, and Tali are going to be essential in this war, even if you were to choose to walk away from it. I think they would benefit from knowing exactly what is going on, don't you?"

"I don't actually know exactly what's going on, Hein. I don't think even Aleph as a full picture of what we're up against. He's damaged, and fragmented, I can feel it!"

"It's better than nothing, isn't it?"

Adam had to agree. "I suppose. I'll try to put something together for the crew. But Hein, I have to warn you: once they know exactly what I know, they'll probably want to jump ship."

"Maybe, maybe not. That's for them to decide, and for me to deal with. The briefing will start at 1800 hours. That leaves you plenty of time to prepare."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>One of the perks of Sarif's augmentation package had been superhuman typing speed, so it had taken Jensen only two hours for him to write his presentation. The first hour and a half had been spent writing the rough draft: that had been easy, as his brain tingled and it seemed his hands went on autopilot. The last half-hour had been spent making up for the gaps in the text. As Adam suspected, Aleph's own memories of ancient history were still fragmented and incomplete.<p>

And because of the subject matter, Adam had given up on making slides. Many of the places he wrote of were long gone, and nobody took pictures. Or if they did, those were long gone as well.

Or perhaps not. T'soni was had been studying Promethean art for close to a century, and could perhaps show Adam to an extra-net database, or maybe an illustrated Codex entry.

He sought her out throughout the ship, and eavesdropped on a conversation between Dr. Ross and Lelia along the way.

"Still no luck?" asked Ross.

"No... where are those girls?" Lelia's voice was laced with both worry and frustration. "I hope they're still on the ship..."

"They should be: the Durendal's airlocks would have alerted us if anyone tried to open them while in FTL travel."

"Can't the ship's internal sensors track them?"

"They could have, if only the girls put Omni-Tools on."

"Damn. It looks like I'll have to track them the old fashioned way."

Adam went about his business, and found T'soni in the cargo bay, of all places. What was even more surprising was the company she kept: it was Grey, who was instructing her in the use of a pistol.

She wasn't doing so well: the training pistol, essentially a laser pointer, was fitted with micro-thrusters to simulate recoil. Even at their lowest setting, their bursts caused her shots to go wide.

"Well, at least you're not flat on your back like last time," sighed Grey, before noticing Adam. "Jensen," he greeted.

"Grey," replied Adam. "T'soni," he said, as he turned to the Asari.

"Hello..." T'soni found herself hiding the training pistol behind her back, as if she had been caught stealing something.

"You mind helping her with her posture?" asked Grey, before Adam could say something. "There's only so much I can do just by talking to her."

"Sure," replied Adam, nodding, seeing no harm in helping. His business with her could wait.

"Good. T'soni? Get into your firing position."

Adam watched as Manah fired her pistol again, and quickly deduced what was wrong with her stance. "Like this," he said, as he gently kicked at her shoes.

"Oh, so that's what he meant," said Manah, now realizing the more precise meaning of Grey's verbal instructions.

"Let's see if you can at least hit your targets," said Adam, as stepped behind her and grabbed her wrist and hand to keep her weapon steady for her, while letting her freely take aim. Her shots never quite hit the center, though beginner's luck let her come very close a couple of times. Still, success built her confidence, and before long she was consistently hitting the target without Adam's help.

Before each shot, Adam felt a slight trembling in her arm. Once he let her go free, he looked at her smooth, slender pale fingers: they didn't have much strength in them, and the trigger was hard to push.

Grey, however, could only see that she was squeezing the trigger too slowly. "I keep telling you—"

"Her index finger isn't very strong," interrupted Adam. "She would need a hair-trigger mod."

Grey shook his head. "You don't give those to beginners, that's a disaster waiting to happen." He turned to T'soni. "Report to the gym. From here on in its arm strength training, daily."

Manah winced, and put the "..._Every_ day?"

"That's what daily means, recruit."

"Actually," said Adam, "I've got some business with her, about the briefing later this evening?"

"Prothean techno-wizardry, huh? Right, I'll let you get to it, but T'soni? If you're serious about defending yourself, talk to Whitaker. He'll show you around the gym."

As Grey got to work on putting the firing range back into storage, Adam and Manah walked to a more private corner of the cargo bay. "So," asked Adam, "got roped into training by Grey, huh?"

"No," she replied, surprising him a bit. "I requested his instruction."

"Oh?"

"Well, actually, I asked your Turian companion first, but he was far too deep into his cups."

"You mean he's drunk?" Adam was perturbed by the news. "That's... it's not like him; it's too soon in the day for him to get plastered."

"Plastered with what?"

"Ah, nevermind. You were saying?"

"I was saying... I was saying that your words echo still in my ears."

"What words?"

"On Illium: _'The best thing you can do is stay out of the way'_."

"Oh. Those."

"But I _cannot_ stay out of the way. Hein told me that we will be exploring some Prothean ruins very soon, and those tend to be visited by pirates or... or tomb raiders," she said the last couple of words disdainfully. "I do not want to hide and cower while others fight them, as I did on Caleston. I want to be a capable fighter and a scholar both, like..." she began to stare at her white shoes. "...like your Quarian companion."

"Quarian companion? Wait, you mean Zorah? We've worked together a couple of times but she's hardly what I call a companion."

"Really? But you took her with you along your mission on Noveria. You choose her, amongst so many and..."

"I actually picked Spooky as my tech expert, seeing as he's both street smart and a veteran corporate hacker, but I was pressured into taking Zorah along. And as I recall, you didn't cower and hide back in Caleston. In fact, your biotics saved the day more than once."

"Yes, but..."

"T'soni, I'm sorry about what I said on Illium. You're more than capable. I only meant that the kind of task we had just accomplished, well..." _How do I put this delicately?_ he thought. "...it required a certain amount of military training. You were powerful, _too_ powerful, for the finesse required in defusing a hostage situation."

That wasn't the entire truth of it, however. When Adam looked at Manah, he saw a fragile young woman. Thus, his instincts had taken over, and he sent her as far away from danger as possible.

_Come to think of it,_ he realized, _she might have been a great help against Toombs' Frost. She did help with the Templar one back on Caleston, and that thing was huge._

"Then I shall learn finesse," said T'soni, firmly. "You had business with me, yes?"

"Right, about that..." Adam proceeded to show her what he had written for the briefing. A quick reader, Manah's eyes lit up like red gems as she processed the information.

"Oh, my... this is an account of the last days of the first era of the Prothean Empire! The rise of Nazara, the birth of the Reapers... Oh! And events preceding the founding of the Empire, for context, and... hm..." Manah's expression went from starry-eyed wonder to an inquisitive stare at the datapad. It was the stare of a scholar.

"What is it?" asked Adam, a bit worried.

"Did you write this? Or was it the Prothean Virtual Intelligence?"

"Promethean, and I'm fairly certain there's more to Aleph than just a VI. In answer to your question... yes and no. I wrote it, but I could feel Aleph's influence the whole time."

"I see... well, it seems to me that he's hiding something."

"Such as?"

"Well, this _Nazara's_ origins, for one thing. Such an important entity, and yet Aleph tells us almost nothing of his origins, save that he was 'twisted by the energies of the Void'. And where was Aleph as Nazara corrupted the other three Prometheans?"

"I _would_ really like know more about this Nazara," agreed Adam. "Seeing as he's ultimately responsible for the current state of affairs."

"I hoped you would feel the same way," said Manah, and she gave him a smile full of hope and meaning. "A-anyways, do you have any evidence to back up this paper? Any references or annotations to lend weight to its words?"

"It does look a piece of Tolkien fiction without any, huh?"

Manah looked confused "Sorry?"

_Of course she hasn't read Tolkien_, he reminded himself. "Nevermind. I was actually hoping you could help me lend weight to it. Do you have any pictures I could use for my presentation? Of Promethean ruins and dig sites and the like." Just as he uttered the words, he got an unpleasant tingle in the back of his head, and he understood then that he shouldn't have bothered to ask.

"The first era of the Prothean Empire was close to 10 million years ago, and little remains of that time, as its relics have been unearthed, studied, and re-purposed by the Protheans of the second era. The relics of the second era were in turn unearthed, studied, and re-purposed by the third, until..."

"...Until nothing was left of this first era you speak of."

"...that I speak of? Mr. Jensen," she pointed at his head, "you of all people should know of the Prothean eras, the downfalls and rebirths of the empire?"

A gentle buzzing washed over Adam's brain. "T'soni, the Promethean Empire lasted ten thousand years, and ended ten million years ago. What came after were simply other space-faring races that discovered Promethean technology, and carved out a huge territory before Nazara destroys them from within."

"But that's..." Manah considered what she was about to say, then: "...entirely possible. Why did we assume that these territories were controlled by the same race? It's improbably, now that I think about it!"

"Probably due to the similarities in technology."

"So many questions arise, now..." she looked up at Adam, eyes now full of admiration, "and you, YOU are the key to answering them all! Oh, how I envy your mind, touched by the Ancients!"

"It's not all in my brain, the Grimoire in Hein's lab should have more info, provided I can interface with it without it causing my head to explode.

"Have you... have you given any consideration to my—"

It was then that Manah spotted a pair of long yellow ears moving from above a stack of crates, and wondered to what creature they belonged to, so much so that she forgot about Adam entirely and followed them.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Salutations and a good morrow to you, Omar!" greeted Alistair with a bow. Drebin, who had just finished maintaining the Deep Eye's weapons after their sortie, had just locked the cage that led to the weapon's lockers and workbenches when the small creature approached him.<p>

"Ah, Hein said you might want to talk to me. Montblanc, right? Well, look, I handle the guns here, and I don't need any—"

"Oh, no no no, I have no interest in becoming the ship's armourer. I'm a Chemist by trade! No, the owner of this ship took me on as an acquirer of goods both common and rare, so that he might make some decent coin with his frequent trips across the galaxy."

"What sort of goods?"

"Raw materials for crafting. Metals common, rare, and exotic. Food, even. He's given me a purse to get started, but I was told you recently had a successful pirate hunt? Were there any goods worth trading in their holds?"

"It was a slave barge," replied Drebin, "and they had fallen on hard times, so all there was of value was a few hard-suits, which are already cannibalized for parts, and enough weapons to outfit a small crew, which I already sold."

"Damn. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to make do. I've never been to the Citadel: what exactly do they produce there?"

"Not a damned thing, unless you count those terrible Blasto films."

Suddenly, Drebin heard a voice right behind him say: "Enhancement!" As he turned around, he saw a Volus inside the cage, already disassembling one of the Serpent Carbines.

"The hell?" said Drebin, trying to figure out how that kid had picked the lock without making so much as a sound. "Hey, don't touch that!"

"I'm afraid that once Sandal gets his hands on a piece of hardware, nothing can stop him from 'enhancing' it, as it were." Alistair smirked. Don't worry, once he's finished—"

"Hee..." said a sweet voice right behind Alistair. As Alistair turned around and saw who it belonged to, his big brown eyes widened in horror as they laid upon the small form of a pale Asari, her cheeks flushed, her face an expression of barely contained excitement. "Your eyes..." she squealed.

"Oh no," he muttered, backing away, his hands up in defence.

"Your little hands!" she squeaked.

"Please, stay calm..."

"And your ears!" She shouted her upper lip quivered as she bit her lower one. And then, she lunged at him. Alistair was quick to hide behind Drebin's mechanical legs.

"Keep her away from me!" he pleaded, but Drebin was too confused to act. The Asari was inches away from grabbing the Pookah when Shadow himself, not wearing his armour, wrapped his arms around her chest from behind.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he said, keeping his hold on her firm, much to Alistair's relief. "You're not supposed to touch anyone without your Tech Armour, remember?"

"It's a bunny! A big fluffy bunny! Let me gooooo!" the Asari whined as she desperately grasped at Alistair. "I just want to pet him, and hug him, and squeeze him, and..."

"Okay, that's it!" said Shadow, backing away, "we're going to back away from the Pookah and we're not going to—"

"—feed-him-chocolate-ice-cream-and-put-him-in-a-costume-and-make-him-a-little-house-and-sing-him-lullabies-and-call-him-fluffy-and-wait-NOOOOoooooooo..."

The Asari's voice grew more distant and more desperate as Shadow dragged her to the elevator, and was silenced as the metal doors shut.

"Confound those Asari!" grumbled Alistair, his small heart beating hard in his chest.

"That happens often?"

"Every single time! _Every_ Asari I've encountered goes completely daft at the mere sight of me and begin to treat me like some kind of toy! I once smelled of goat shit — long story, please don't ask — and instead of being repulsed this matriarch offered to give me a bath! You can't imagine my suffering!"

"Yeah, I feel your pain, brother." Drebin, of course, was being quite sarcastic. Still, something clicked inside his head. "So Asari go nuts over you Pookah, huh?"

"Most alien women do, really, but Asari are the _worst_. I mean, they _melt_!"

Drebin smiled inwardly. "Well, I have some bad news and some good news. Bad news: Asari are all over the Citadel."

"Oh, curses! It looks like I'll be conducting my business from the ship, then..."

"The good news, I've got a plan for that purse of yours. How much cloth, cotton filling and thread do you think you can buy?"

"Oh, quite a lot, why?"

"Because once I program the ship's fabricator right, you and I are going to make loads of money..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Away from prying eyes, the blue haired girl shattered the cube with her bare hands.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Once he was certain that T'soni would behave, Adam decided to check on his partner at the newly opened lounge. It didn't have much a few couches, tables, a bar, and a liquor cabinet, but it looked like Echo had tried to give the place a bit of ambiance, though it was obviously a work in progress.<p>

"Levo, levo, levo..." said Garrus from behind the counter, as he checked bottle after bottle. "Come ooon, where's the tasty stuff?" He looked up from his search when he heard Adam clear his throat. "Hey there, partner!" he greeted, his speech slurred. "Take a seat, I'll pour you a drink."

"If you can," said Adam, as he took a seat at the bar. "Give me a shot of whiskey!"

"Coming right up!" replied Garrus, with forced enthusiasm. When he messed up pouring the drink, Adam gently seized the bottle and the glass.

"Alright, partner, looks like you've had quite a bit to drink. A bit too much, if you ask me."

"So? I'm on vacation!" he laughed bitterly, as he sat on a stool and leaned against the counter to keep himself steady. "And spirits, do I ever need to... kill some inner demons."

"Talk to me, partner. What's bothering you?"

"You were right..."

"About what?"

"You were right, Adam. You were so damned right. I wasn't ready to face the darkness... and I paid the price for it nonetheless. You... you remember that movie we saw when you got promoted to Detective? I forget the name, the one with the human kid losing his parents in a filthy alley and growing to beat up criminals wearing a stupid costume?"

"...Batman? You're getting miserably drunk over Batman?"

"No... Yes... It's Scholar. I just lost the first nine years of my life to him and his Dream Machine. Instead there's this... this FANTASY about me being born to a couple of rich parents — one of them very possibly a costumed vigilante — and then losing them to the Omega riots. Sound a bit familiar?"

"Yeah, classic origin story."

"I wouldn't know." Garrus shook his head and sighed. "And then you've got the rest of my life, contrasting with the fake memories..."

"That's good, isn't it? I mean, if it weren't for those, you wouldn't even be able to tell."

"I mean how they DON'T contrast... if anything they provide context to my rotten time in the military."

That took Jensen aback. How deep had Scholar gotten inside Garrus' head? To check, they began to reminisce about their career together at C-Sec, to see if their memories of their adventures matched up. After an hour, it seemed that the last few years had been left untouched in Garrus' head. His speech became less slurred, as his liver quickly broke down the alcohol in his system, the benefit of a military gene-mod package.

"One more thing," Garrus asked. "How did I get that scar in the back of my head?"

Adam winced. "Yeah, I don't think I can confirm that one. Sorry"

"The hells do you mean?"

"Let's just say that story got better and better every time you tell it, and sometimes you even made shit up to impress the ladies."

"...I never told you the truth of it?"

"Maybe, maybe not. I never got the chance to separate the lies from the truth of it, Garrus."

"I may not even remember... that spot? That's where we Turians keep our long term memories," he hiccuped. "In our brains, I mean."

"...Seriously? Tell me your parents got that checked out!"

"Don't know! Memories got toyed with, remember?"

"...Something doesn't add up about this. Why would Scholar of all people want to turn you into space Batman?"

"Hells, I don't know. Maybe he just wanted me to suffer." He rubbed his small blue eyes. "Because that's what this is. Torture. It's... it's seeing my fake parents' heads held up high by Aria T'loak for all to see. And the cheering... thousands of people so very, very happy to see them dead while I'm..." He choked back tears. "While I'm _screaming_ on the inside... Damn it, I need another drink!"

Adam stopped him from drinking from the bottle of whiskey. "Garrus, it's going to be okay... Echo told me that it doesn't take long for the original memories to resurface. Soon, all that you're going through will feel like some bad dream, long forgotten."

"...Really?" Garrus' eyes became hopeful. "I won't have to deal with that crap in my head for much longer?"

"That's what she told me, but maybe we ought to go see her? Maybe she can help you deal with the fake memories, work them out?"

"Yeah, okay. Later, though, when I can stand upright."

"I'll go see Zorah, in the meantime. Maybe she's got something in her medkit for that hangover you've got coming to you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Unseen by the adults, the purple-haired girl found three knives, a scalpel, and a pair of scissors for herself.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Wrex didn't know what to say. Bakara was just standing there in the cold, staring at the glass jar silently like she had been doing for hours, her expression completely unreadable. Inside the jar was the corpse of an unborn Krogan child, suspended in a clear fluid. The sight of it unnerved him for many reasons, chief among them was that it was seemingly intact. When the Genophage decided that the child inside an egg didn't deserve to live, it melted it down to a protein-rich goo.<p>

_Well, mostly into goo_, thought Wrex. _The Salarians wanted to drown us in the corpses of our own dead, not puddles. Bastards, all of them..._

But this corpse was intact, and when Wrex had asked about the egg to bury it, the black-haired human doctor had said that there wasn't any.

"Blood rage," said Bakara, finally.

"What?"

"It was the Blood Rage. We came under attack by some mercenaries sent to clean Peak 15 up. I fought, and I fought desperately. The baby's heart was damaged from exposure to my adrenaline."

"So it's true. The baby was inside of you..."

"Yes, and it died because of it. I'm told I was given a great deal of concentrated tranquillizer. That should have helped, given me a chance to save it... unfortunately, nobody knew of my pregnancy until it was too late, and I could do nothing as I was unconscious." She picked up the jar, and began to laugh bitterly. "This child is dead because of _me_. Because of my body, because I had to keep it a secret."

"Bakara... why? Why did you... alter yourself like that?" Wrex could barely hide his disgust. It had always bothered him, how most aliens reproduced. Growing something _inside_ of you, like some pyjak. And before him stood a woman that had altered herself to do the same.

Bakara stared at Wrex right in the eye. "To change the rules. To make the Genophage useless. I understand why the Salarians designed it so. I understand the method and logic behind their cruelty."

Wrex felt his blood boil. "There's nothing to understand: Once we stopped being useful to them, they neutered us all!"

"Ha!" Bakara shook her head, and began to move towards the morgue's exit. "I've heard the same argument before. I have no time for hatred, Wrex."

"Where are you going?"

"To the ship's incinerator to destroy this."

"That's all? Don't you... don't you want to say a prayer for it, at least?"

"I have no time to dwell on my failures, and I still have much work to do... Feel free to do or say whatever you like when I leave."

As Bakara made her way out, she felt the sudden urge to look to her right, and saw the sole active refrigeration unit. Curiosity overwhelmed her, and she opened it to have a look at the occupant.

"Someone you know?" asked Wrex.

"That was my new secretary. What a shame. I liked her."

Wrex peered under the sheet. "Pretty sure that's a man."

"Yes, well, I wasn't aware of that. This Ramsus fellow was very good at sinking into an identity. I was completely fooled."

"Couldn't you tell by the scent?"

"Can you?"

"He smells dead, mostly, but... no, I can't tell by scent alone. That's weird."

"No matter. Let's just leave."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>When the two giant lizards left, the girls stepped out of their hiding places, and opened the refrigerator that had been left ajar. The tray slid out automatically, far too high for them to see who was in it. They all found stools to stand on, and loomed over the corpse.<p>

"He's so pretty!" said the fifth girl, the golden-haired one, with a half eaten chocolate puppy in her arms. "I want his pretty head all to myself!" she squealed.

"Hey, you were supposed to share that!" said the fourth girl, with the brown hair. She had been eyeing that chocolate puppy all day. She had been offered one, one of many, but she had wanted that one in particular.

"Heheheheh..." the third, with the purple hair, had a laugh that lacked all mirth. "They cut him, cut him deeply, took bits out and put some metal bits in. Over, and over, and over again. Until he became what they wanted him to be."

"He looks heavyyy..." whined the second, with the blue hair. "Do I really have to carry him out?"

"We need a place close to the heart of the ship with plenty of room," said the first, with the pale blonde hair. She stared at the flower in her hand. "She commands it."

"She commands it," the girls said in unison.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Durendal's Engine Room, Tali checked her email account on her Omni-Tool. Alpha and Beta sent her a video, telling her that they were okay, though the club had seen better days. They were planning on moving to another colony, or maybe out in the Terminus. They hadn't decided yet.<p>

_"You're our new best friend!" Alpha declared happily. "Email us every 5 minutes so we can talk about boys!"_

_"Or girls," said Beta._

_"Or both!" they said in unison, "We don't judge!"_

Tali's reply:

_Hey you two,_

_I have to keep this short, as I'm busy with work. _

_So happy to know that you survived the attack. If safety is what you're looking for, though, then the Terminus is not for you. Maybe you should head deeper into Council space, where it's safer. Maybe the Citadel?_

_Oh, by the way, I tried using the Ono-Sendai. Turns out I'm compatible with the technology, and Spooky offered to teach me how to use it properly. Have any tips for me, or software? _

—_Tali'Zorah_

Another email, this time from Molly the Bouncer. Tali wondered how she even got her email address, and figured that Alpha and Beta had given it to her... though now she wondered how they got it in the first place. Maybe she out to triple-check her Omni-Tool for bugs.

_Hello, Darling,_

_I'm a little hurt that you didn't take my offer, but seeing as the club is in a sorry state and the owners are thinking about leaving, well... I guess the offer's off the table. A shame, that. I **really** wanted to see you dance._

_So did our mutual friend, incidentally. Yes, she's alright too, and she was worried about you. Alpha and Beta told her you were okay, and she wanted me to send you these pictures on her behalf. I took them myself._

_Enjoy :)_

Tali wondered who this mutual friend was, right up until she opened the attachment. It was pictures of the brown-haired young woman she had encountered at the Elerium-115, sitting on a bed with silk sheets. The further Tali flipped along the set, the less clothes she saw, and the more the woman seemed to beg her to come through the lens of the camera and join her. Tali couldn't stop herself admiring the way her sunlight coming through the windows seemed the highlight her creamy skin and her lovely hair...

Then she shook her head. "No no no, I can't..." and promptly put the pictures in the recycling bin.

Then, she replied:

_What is her name?_

It was then that Adam came in. "Zorah?" he asked. "I need your help."

"Of course," she replied, cheerfully.

He told her that Garrus had been drinking heavily for the past few hours, and needed something to flush out the alcohol out of his system. With the Durendal's medical supplies geared towards humans, he thought she could help out.

"I've got an alcohol flusher," she said, as she produced a small vial from her suit. "It should work on him, seeing as the Flotilla gets the stuff from Turian merchants. Put it in a hypo and inject him with 5 cc. It will make him feel a bit nauseous, though..."

"Better nauseous than hung over, thanks." As he moved to exit the Engine Room, Tali stopped him.

"Do you have to go already?"

"Well, yes, unless you need help with something."

"Well, I don't but... Right! I finished putting your broken eye back together! I can install it right here, if you like!"

"Hm, it would be nice to get some depth perception back. How long will it take?"

"Not long: just need to disinfect the eye and..."

"No need, my eye sockets are lined with plastic."

"Oh! Well then this will only take a minute."

Tali found a stool for Adam to sit on, set it up besides her workbench, and then proceeded to take the eye out of the box and double check its parts. "Adam?" she asked, as her hands disassembled and reassembled the eye with practiced ease. "I've been meaning to ask, but who are you to Brea?"

Adam gave her a confused look. "What brought that on all of a sudden?" Then, he realized something. "Wait, we had this conversation before!"

"Did we?" Tali pondered that fact for a second, and was coming up blank.

"Illium, Tali." When she didn't reply, he added. "The bar?"

"Oh!... wait, I think I was really, _really_ drunk."

"Well,_ to repeat myself_, Brea and I aren't a couple."

"Hm... does SHE know that?"

"Well, of course she does. Why wouldn't she?"

"Are you sure? Garrus told me she got aboard the Copperhead once she heard you were in danger. And speaking of Illium, didn't she invite you to dinner?"

"I went to dinner with T'soni, too," said Adam, and Tali's heart sank a bit when he said that. "Turns out, Brea was a lot more interested in her."

"Oh... wait, what?"

"She wanted to know more about T'soni's condition." Adam clarified. "As for Noveria, Brea had an agenda of her own." He sighed, when he saw that Tali needed a bit more convincing. "Look, she's physically attractive, no denying it, and that would be enough for some... but I find her attitude **rotten **most of the time. She either complains, or gives me veiled insults. I'd honestly rather NOT talk about her, if you don't mind."

"...Of course. I'm sorry I brought her up."

Silently, Tali fished out the nerve cable and the polymer strips from Adam's empty eye socket, and connected them to the artificial eye. Adam covered his other eye with his hand, and said: "Yeah, I'm getting a feed."

"Good," said Tali, as she helped him put the artificial eye into his socket.

As they did so, Adam caught sight of Conrad at his workstation. "Huh, now there's a first. Verner's in the same room as me and he pays me no attention." He blinked, as the automatic calibration began to kick in.

"He is a handful," agreed Tali.

"Well, let me know if he bothers you too much."

Tali's eyes widened in surprise. "What? No! He's amazing! I wish Veetor and Zev knew half as much as he does about Dark Energy field manipulation. Give him a month on board and he might get our FTL rating up to a light frigate's."

"...Wow. Really?"

"Well... I wouldn't trust him with a spanner, and I have to double check his modifications so that they don't blow up the ship, but otherwise I can see why Hein wanted him aboard."

"Hein does have an eye for talent, doesn't he?" agreed Adam."

"That's what I like about him. Race doesn't seem to matter to him so much as long as you're capable. How's the eye?"

"Good as new, thanks."

"You're wel— uh oh..."

"What?"

Tali peered into the replacement eye. "I... might have gotten the colour wrong: your new eye is a bit more blue than green."

"Oh, it's fine." Adam took out two plastic clips and fit them on his temples. "It's not like anyone will be able to tell the difference behind these." The golden shades deployed, hiding his eyes.

"...I _knew_ those things were clip ons!" said Tali almost victoriously as Adam got up to leave. She noticed the ports on the back of his head, and found herself wondering what it would be like to plug into Adam using the Ono-Sendai. What would she see inside his mind? How deep could she go?

Would he enjoy it?

_Stupid pictures, _she thought, cursing her state of mind._ Stupid sexy pictures._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Huh, there it goes again," said Conrad, observing the Warp Field's harmonics on his workstation.<p>

"Verner?" asked a voice behind him, which he immediately recognized.

"Oh, Adam! Sorry! I didn't notice you coming in!"

"I _know._ Something bothering you?"

"Oh, yes, most certainly."

"...Do you want to talk about it?"

"Well, I'm in the middle of some calculations... so while the computer works them out, I have time to chat a little."

"So, is the ship going to blow up or...?" Adam asked, half-jokingly.

"Hm? Oh, nothing that catastrophic!" Conrad dismissed. "But our Warp Field's been shifting by 0.04, give or take, for a few hours now. It's weird..."

"Warp Field?" asked Adam, confused. "Don't you mean Mass Effect field?"

"Oh, right, most people don't understand the difference." Conrad took a deep breath, and Adam braced himself for some exposition. He was getting a lot of it, lately. "The thing people don't quite get about FTL travel is that we're not using the same mass lightening field that you use to... say, make a shuttle float or propel a bullet. No matter how light you make something, the closer you get it to lightspeed, the closer the energy required to make it go that fast gets to infinite. At some point it doesn't matter how much kinetic energy you put in, the diminishing returns catch up. Whether it's a chip of metal or a warship, you're going to need the same amount of energy to get it to go a ninety nine percent lightspeed, mass effect or no."

"I thought mass effect fields got around that by raising the lightspeed limit," said Adam.

"They do and they don't. Let me explain: In order to raise the lightspeed limit, a ship needs to generate a mass lightening bubble with a specific dark energy harmonic signature that we like to call the 'Warp Field'. The more powerful and stable the Warp Field, the further the ship inside it can go into FTL speeds... but there's a hitch. A strong enough gravity well, like a planet's, interferes with the stability of a Warp Field. The closer a ship travelling at lightspeed gets to a planet or a sun, the harder it is for it to maintain the field and the slower it has to go."

"And once you get too close, the Warp Field destabilizes completely..."

Conrad nodded, "Right, and the ship snaps back to Sublight. It's the reason why it can take days to travel inside the gravity well of a star system, but it takes hours to cross the void between stars in a cluster."

"So how come we don't use Warp Fields to propel bullets? I would think the military would love a gun that powerful."

"Well, unlike a normal mass lightening field - which can linger for a period of time after power to the Eezo core is shut off - once a warp bubble destabilizes completely, it pops and dissolves instantly. You CAN make a bullet go at five times the speed of light... inside the gun. But once it's out the barrel it snaps back to a fraction of lightspeed, like any other bullet."

"So, are we getting too close to a solar system? Is that why the Warp Field is oscillating?"

Conrad shook his head. "I checked: we're only half-way to the nearest star, at the moment, so the Warp Field should be perfectly stable."

"The core's fragmented. That might be causing it."

"I thought about that, but... well, it doesn't account for an oscillation that big. It's really interesting, though. If I can figure out what's causing it I might even get this ship to match the Warp Factor of a light frigate."

"Warp Factors? What, like in Star Trek?"

Conrad nodded. "From one through ten. One's fast, Ten's _ludicrously_ fast... in theory. Dreadnoughts and Supercarriers can only manage a factor of five or six, while heavy cruisers can go up to seven, tops. The Durendal can do eight point two, and the Normandy can go up to nine point one.

"And corvettes can go up to ten?"

"Ah, they can come _close_, but no one's managed to cross that threshold. Some people have tried to go up to eleven, but..."

Adam could feel a crawling sensation in the back of his head, and understood that going past Warp Factor 11 would be a disaster. "...But what?" he asked.

"Something always seems to go wrong. I guess the ships can't handle the stress, or something."

"Shouldn't it be the same as Zero Shift?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean, shouldn't it be the same as going through a Relay?"

"It should... if we had a full understanding of how relays work."

"You mean we don't? Christ, we use these things all the time!"

"Well, the prevailing theory is that Relays create a mass-less conduit between each other, allowing a ship to go through it a infinite speed. The other, less popular theory, submitted by Dr. William Weir, states that Relays actually _fold_ space!"

"...But it happens too fast for anyone to observe the truth of it," Adam realized.

"Yeah, exactly! Our fastest computers and our most powerful sensors can't seem to get a lock. Therefore, no one's been able to recreate the effect, even on a small scale."

"Thanks, Verner. That was actually quite illuminating."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Nearly everyone on board the Durendal had gathered in the briefing room, with the exceptions of the more recent additions such as Bakara, Montblanc and, of course, the children. Echo and Lelia were taking care of them, while Zev and Veetor were watching over Engineering and the Electronics lab, respectively. Drebin had excused himself, more interested in trying to figure out what Sandal had done to that gun.<p>

Hein began the briefing. "Ladies and Gentlemen, Soldiers and Scoundrels, welcome! The reason I brought you all here together is that you've all caught glimpses of something... insidious. Something terrifying. You all saw parts of a greater whole, and today is the day we try and put together the information we've personally gathered, and share it so that we are all on the same page. But first, some ancient history! Take it away, Mr. Jensen."

Adam stood behind the podium, cleared his throat, and began:

"It started around ten million years ago, on a planet in a star system no longer in our star charts. It started with a war of ideologies. Two factions vied for the world, the Messians, and the Gaians. The Messians believed in the rule of law and order, and used machines for warfare. The Gaians believed, above all, in the rule of strength, and used war beasts to fight. For centuries, the war raged, and escalated each side's technology. The Messians started using swarms of robots enhanced by Programs, and the Gaian war beasts were replaced with mutants enhanced by Blood Music.

"To break the stalemate, a scientist aligned with the Messians, whose name was Stephen—"

"Wait," interrupted Neil. "Stephen?! I mean... _Stephen?!_"

"Yes, Stephen," repeated Adam. "What's wrong with that?"

"I dunno, I expected something a bit more... fantastic."

"Sounds plenty weird to me," said Wrex.

"Let him finish," said Grey, who then nodded at Adam.

"Right then," continued Adam. "Stephen, to break the stalemate, created the first of a group of cybernetic constructs that would later be called the Prometheans. His name is Aleph, and he's inside my head right now."

Behind Adam, on the holoscreen, appeared five regal figures, completely covered in metal, cloth and or plastics sculpted organically to resemble ideal physiques. Adam presented them all:

The first, in a tan long robe that left his arms exposed and emitting a gold and green light from his circuitry was Aleph. He was the first ever built, and was the Prometheans' jack-of-all-trades.

The second, a pale-skinned woman in a black-and-blue, impossibly elaborate, high-tech dress, and with three glowing blue rings made of water hovering around her, was Beth. She was their biotech expert.

The third was a tall, slender man that looked both like a warrior and a fop. He was covered finely sculpted jade armour inlaid with gold, wearing breeches made of colourful cloth. He was called Gimmel, and served as their infiltrator.

The fourth was an even taller, and very well built man, his red-skinned body exposed save for a pair of tattered white slacks covered in a flame motif. His muscled body was covered in glowing orange veins, like magma. His name was Daleth, and he was their fighter.

The fifth and last was the size of a Roegadyn, but a bit more slender of limb. He was covered in a white shell, though wet black cords of muscle peeked through some gaps. His eyes glowed a pale blue. His name was Zayin, and he was, as Adam put it, their meat-shield.

All of them wore masks, covering their faces.

"At first," Adam went on, "They served as assassins for the Messians, and later, when the war escalated into space, to the nearby planets, they became generals of—"

"Whoa, wait! You mean like, like Cyborg Jedi?" asked Lunchbox, a glint in his eye.

"...Yes, like Cyborg Jedi."

"Aw, that's totally sweet!"

Tali shushed him. "Let him finish!"

Adam continued. "Then, they became generals, and eventually, when they learned of Molecular Control, they became as armies. Eventually, the Promethean-Messian alliance pushed back the Gaians to the edge of the star-system, and that was when the Akasha Lords — the leaders of the Gaians — opened a gate to the Void and escaped... and that was when the war burned the entire galaxy. A thousand years later, the Gaians were nearly eradicated, and the Messians had been left scattered and leaderless. The Prometheans, save for Aleph and Daleth, built and ruled three civilizations that spanned over half the galaxy. Aleph, for his part, wandered the other half, discovering new, fledgling races, and teaching them the basics that they would need to become full fledged civilizations."

Adam paused for effect, then: "These four, _these four alone_, had been responsible for the destruction of two galactic powers, and the rise of newer ones. So when I tell you that Nazara is responsible for their downfall, you should understand just how dangerous _he_ is."

According to Adam, the fall of the Promethean Empire had begun almost as soon as the nation came to be. Zayin had declared himself Emperor, and Gimmel and Beth became his followers, ceding control over their territories.

Aleph had encountered the Empire's conquering armies when they attacked a world he had been on. Its civilization had still been in its antiquity, and had no hope of defending itself against the invaders. Enslaved and fed to machines designed to drain Anima, Aleph had rebelled against his former kin, and created an Alliance of free worlds to halt the Empire's advance.

Aleph's plan had been simple: the alliance would hold the line while he would personally deal with his brothers and sisters, leaving the new Promethean Empire leaderless and scattered. When he encountered them, Aleph had realized that something had driven them to extreme behaviour. Beth had become obsessed with creating monsters, and experimented on her own people. Gimmel had become obsessed with his own gratification, and left his people to rot. As for Zayin, his vision for the Promethean Empire was even worse than the Messians', as he planned to convert everyone into cold, unfeeling automatons.

Reasoning with them had proved impossible, and they all died at Aleph's hands.

The Empire had scattered into different nations, and with the threat gone, the Alliance dissolved. Some had begged Aleph to become their new Emperor, but he refused. Instead, he wandered the Galaxy again, guiding, investigating, waiting. For he knew that there was one more Promethean that had yet made his presence known.

That was when Daleth had appeared at the head of a Gaian horde, intent on ravaging everything. Once again, brother fought against brother, and between blows Aleph accused Daleth of using the Blood Song to corrupt the minds of his own siblings. Daleth denied it even as he tried to kill Aleph, and upon his defeat, uttered the name 'Nazara'.

Nazara, the Enemy, was a psychic entity that sought to harvest the Anima of all life in the Galaxy, and to do it, he needed a war to hide behind, and to accomplish that, he worked through proxies, people corrupted by artifacts of power. Gimmel had been corrupted with a pair of knives, Beth, with an orb, and Zayin, with a crown. Daleth himself had fought off the influence of a sword, but even he succumbed eventually.

Nazara's other tool had been the Black Fleet. Once conflicts reached their zenith, ships with hulls as black as night would unleash creatures from the Void that would devour all sapient life that lived on ravaged worlds.

"Some of you caught glimpses of these creatures very recently," said Adam. "Like ghosts, creatures of living flame. These are Nazara's creations. These are the Reapers."

Grey nodded sagely, being the only one who had actually gotten a clear view of them.

With the galaxy rife with conflict, nobody paid attention to a few silent worlds until it was nearly too late. On the brink of galactic annihilation, Nazara and Aleph finally faced off. The battle lasted days, and it ended with Nazara banished deep into the Void and Aleph severely damaged.

With the galaxy at peace and the Void now a prison for a being bent on the extinction of all life, Aleph transmitted plans for massive rails that could propel a vessel great distances to all that could build them, creating what would be known as the Relay network today, keeping the people of the galaxy safe from harm. After a hundred thousand years, the so-called first era of the Prometheans had ended, and from the ashes a new civilization had risen, following in the footsteps and listening to the echoes of those that came before. With such similarities, the new age was mistaken for a second era by those that would come after.

Dying, Aleph created Anima backups of himself inside thousands of terminals, with instructions to lie in wait for signs of Nazara's return, and prepare the galaxy to fight him once more.

This had happened 107 times before, and with each return Nazara's methods had become more and more refined. Proxies ruled by proxies, plots within plots, organizations slowly corrupting civilizations from the inside out, keeping them ready to tear at each other's throats.

"Humanity," Adam concluded, "is no different. There is a secret cabal, one that has shaped the past hundred years of our history to serve their ends. But even they are just puppets, and Nazara's pulling the strings. If we don't stop them, whatever plans they execute will mean terrible things for the entire galaxy."

The presentation concluded, Wrex began to clap, and laugh. Manah, who had been engrossed with Adam's tale, gave the Krogan a dirty look for snapping her out of her focus.

"Nice one, Jensen," complimented Wrex. "I mean, I've heard better from my Shaman at a camp fire, but not bad for a first draft."

Spooky let out a chuckle. "It _is_ pretty out there."

Lunchbox frowned at him. "Oh, come on! You believe in countless conspiracy theories!" He pointed his finger in accusation. "You believe in ancient societies faking the first moon landing but ancient space ninjas fighting ghosts from hyperspace is too much?!"

"It is too much," replied Spooky as he coolly lit a cigarette up. "Kid, I believe in the capacity of men to manipulate, lie, cheat, and murder their way to power, that these men hide behind lies and a maze of organizations to keep themselves safe from reprisal. What I don't believe, what I _refuse_ to believe, is that behind those men is an ancient evil straight out of a bad Lord of the Rings fanfic. No offence, Adam."

_Fuck you_, was Adam's intended reply, though he kept his mouth shut.

"And you saw some pretty outstanding stuff on the ground with us," Grey told Wrex. "How do you explain any of that?"

"I've seen plenty of things, all of which can be explained one way or another. Holograms, mad science, whatever. But some dark lord at the head of an army of space ghosts? That's bullshit, and you know it."

"So you don't believe Jensen because the truth isn't banal enough?" asked Hein. "Because it isn't mundane enough?"

"You're damned right, I don't. I believe in what I see, and all I saw down on Noveria was a bunch of monsters that die when you shoot them."

Hein smiled. "Funny you should say that. Grey? It's your turn, I believe." As Adam stepped down and Grey took his place in front, Hein went on: "As ancient as they are, as outlandish as they seem, the Reapers are a very real threat, even today, since the Illuminati are working towards their return. Since I pride myself on being prepared for everything, I outfitted Captain Grey with some specialized equipment designed to fight them. His suit's cameras picked up quite a bit of footage, which we analysed and edited together. Take it away, Captain. Oh, and Mr. Moody?"

"Hm?"

"No smoking, please. And Mr. Urdnot? Do sit down and shut up, at least until we're done."

Grey's presentation, in contrast to Adam's, was quick and to the point, since he was reading a written report on his datapad, skipping parts that didn't need to be said or adding some for context.

"Here is a tactical analysis of the hostile alien entities codenamed 'Phantoms'..." he nodded at Adam, "...also known as 'Reapers', based on an encounter during the Geth attack on Dosadi, Noveria, on the 17th of October, 2183. At 0324 hours, the 1st Special Weapons Group, along with Spectre Jondum Bau, an Alliance Marine Squad from the Normandy, and several freelance mercenaries, came under attack by a group of mutants ostensibly created and under the control of Europa Genomics. However, footage gathered from the... _my_ Demonica suit suggests origins alien even to this galaxy."

As he spoke, footage of the Deep Eyes' encounter with the 'Angels' played behind him on the screen. Jane and Ryan recognized the Granada's atrium, though neither of them recalled the blobs of blue voxels and static going around the battlefield.

"As you can see upon the hostiles' destruction, blue globes of static emerge from their bodies as soon as they turn into powder. Said globes can be easily mistaken for visual artifacts from faulty sensors or displays, which would explain why everyone on the footage is ignoring them, but the virtual intelligence integrated in the Demonica — Burroughs — resolved the issue quickly, at which point the true appearance of the hostiles became visible."

The blue static dissolved and made way for various creatures made of ghostly fire. Some appeared like serpents with snarling, all too human, skull faces. Some looked like hideous blobs. They moved about the battle, unseen and unheard, and passed through walls and pillars as if they weren't there at all.

"These 'Phantoms' are apparently unable to interact with solid matter, but when they come into contact with a living being..."

The footage cut to a Phantom trying to burrow inside an European soldier, who promptly began to spasm horribly.

"... they are capable of bypassing all personal defences and cause seizures that lead to death, or..."

Cut to another unfortunate soldier, who had a serpent pass through him, only this time he didn't seize up. Instead, the serpent dragged something on its way out, a ghostly blue figure in the shape of a man. The blue ghost desperately grasped at its own body in vain, trying to stay in, but the serpent simply dragged it away, kicking and screaming silently, to a corner far and out of the way.

"Take _something_ out, and the victim is left catatonic."

"Oh, Goddess..." Manah murmured, trembling in horror. The others had been quiet, but were no less horrified. Except Wrex, of course.

"Can anything hurt those things?" asked Lunchbox.

"Maybe some kind of anti-ghost insecticide gun?" suggested Conrad out of nowhere.

With a glare, Grey silenced them all, and he continued: "Based on the fact that Phantoms pass through solid matter, it can be safely assumed that physical attacks cannot harm them. However..."

Grey brought up footage of him shooting the Phantoms with his Serpent rifle, alongside footage of Jondum Bau launching an incineration attack at a group of angels.

"For unknown reasons, energy weapons fire and the brief flash of plasma from an incineration Omni-Tool app can cause them harm. Further adjustments from the Demonica allowed the Serpent Carbine to neutralize the Phantoms completely."

The footage then cut to the massive creature that called itself Hashmal Lephantis fighting a group of Wanzers.

"For reasons unknown, the angels ceased to function completely, and shortly after we were attacked by a much larger creature. This one was apparently capable of speech, and called itself Hashmal. It was at first engaged by the Silver Drakes, the European Navy Wanzer squad, who managed to bring it down after 30 minutes of intense fighting. Once it fell..."

Cut to footage of Hashmal's back opening up, revealing glowing tendrils of flame that sought out bodies to attack.

"...Hashmal revealed himself to be an even larger variant of a Phantom. Based on the reactions from everyone on the scene, this time he was perfectly visible, with no visual enhancement whatsoever required. You all know what comes next," he gave Garrus a meaningful look as he closed the video "so I'll just skip this. In Conclusion, it is this soldier's opinion that Europa Genomics is consorting with hostile non-corporeal alien entities, and that EG is supplying them with physical hosts in exchange for advanced technology, such as the cloaking system that allowed Scholar's massive vessel to escape detection. As such, I recommend that EG should be considered a terrorist organization with a threat level of Black, and should be dealt with accordingly."

Grey put his datapad down, "Any questions?"

Everyone raised their hands.

"Later! Later!" dismissed Hein. "But allow me to answer a question while Ross and Brea get set up. Did you see those lines on each reaper, like strings on a puppet?" With his Omni-Tool, Hein put a video on screen of a 3d map of the Granada overlaid with data gathered from both the Demonica and the 108. Using triangulation, the strings of light all pointed towards a single room on the upper floors of the hotel. Hein zoomed in on it, and reconstructed the scene where Theodore had been encountered. All of the ethereal lines were focused on his head.

To Garrus and Adam, the implications was obvious: Even as he was fighting them, he was commanding a small army against a battalion of marines and _winning_.

"Who the fuck is this?" asked Jane, nodding at the pale, well dressed man on-screen.

"That, my dear," replied Hein. "is an Imaginary Number." He went on to tell everyone the history behind the Illuminati's psionics research, which seemed to catch Spooky's interest a great deal.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the Durendal's cargo bay, quiet as mice the five sisters set up a circle, at the center of which lay the cold body of Ramsus.<p>

They took their places, and hummed a gentle tune.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah thought she heard something as Brea and Aki set up their presentation, but ignored the noise when the two women started to speak.<p>

"Subject's name," began Aki, as holographic images of Ramsus' body rotated behind her. "Johann Liebert Ramsus. Height: 182 centimetres. Weight: 71 kilos. Age? based on observations alone, estimated at 19 years. Autopsy and scans revealed that Ramsus has been the recipient of a great deal of corrective, cosmetic, and neural surgery throughout his childhood. This includes spinal fusion to correct scoliosis and distraction osteogenesis to lengthen and straighten his limbs. Well over half of his skull's face has been reconstructed at least three times, while his jaw is a plastic prosthetic. His left arm is a vat grown replacement, made using compatible, but nonetheless different genetic material."

Ross zoomed in on Ramsus' torso, and then his bare skin became covered in elaborate tattoos, the most prominent of which was that of a red dragon struggling with a white one. "This was covered up with a layer of thin, artificial skin that could become transparent to reveal these."

Brea cleared her throat, and Aki skipped ahead to the more relevant part of her report. She highlighted Ramsus' implants and element zero nodes. Manah noted that Ramsus' number of nodes was surprisingly below average for someone with the reputation of being one of Humanity's most powerful biotics.

"On the neurosurgical front, Ramsus' biotic implant architecture appears to be an evolution of the Alliance's L2, though far more invasive. Based on the neural scarring, one can tell someone began stapling and shunting his nerves with polymer wiring at the age of six."

Neil found himself wincing, expressing a sentiment shared by everyone.

"As for the brain itself..." continued Aki, as the hologram of Ramsus' brain became enlarged. "...much of it has been perforated with hair-thin conduits of conductive polymers connected to several regulator chips. This was done to mitigate damage from high doses of psychoactive drugs laced with element zero, of which there are many deposits deep within a dozen lesions all over the surface of the brain."

She highlighted another part of Ramsus, two almond shapes, deep in the center. "The most interesting alteration done to his brain is to the amygdalae. They've been enlarged through mutagen injections that also caused neuron density in the area to nearly double, then lesions were inflicted here, here and here. For those of you who don't know what this part of the brain does, it performs an important role in the processing of memory, decision-making, and emotions."

The holograms of Ramsus' various body parts winked out, and Aki concluded her part of the presentation with: "In conclusion, the people responsible for these neural modifications have access to a great deal of funds, as well as specialists with little regard for medical ethics: Not only are the modifications incredibly painful and caused irreparable damage to Ramsus' psyche, they also used highly illegal and very dangerous surgical techniques. Indeed, many of these modifications could only be achieved through nanomachine surgery. Any questions?"

Garrus raised his hand. "The biotics I understand, but why modify the amygdala at all?"

"The _exact_ purpose? I wasn't certain, but I do know that these modifications would have increased his sex drive and aggression two or three-fold and force him to feel... every emotion with great force, except for fear, due to the intentional damage."

"And the pay-off for all that would be?" asked Ryan, not seeing the benefits.

"Superhuman social intelligence and charisma," answered Aki. "Which would mean an increased capacity to cooperate with others, and the ability to integrate perfectly in any society, big or small. Also, Ramsus would have had extreme empathy, been capable to manage an extremely large social network, and make perfect judgements based on facial expression alone... in theory. In practice, well, some of you actually interacted with him, so you would be better placed to know what he was capable of."

Adam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, while Brea merely frowned. Both of them had been played by Ramsus, though not quite for fools, thankfully.

"Such talents would be very useful for a spy," commented Brea.

"Or a general," added Grey.

"Or a tyrant," said Ryan.

It was Brea's turn to speak: While Aki had been responsible for the autopsy, Brea had taken various cell samples from Ramsus' corpse to analyze his DNA. The results appeared behind her on the briefing room's video screen, at the center of which was a double helix.

"Johann Ramsus. Actual age: 28, based on the length of his cells' telomeres. Half of Ramsus' DNA is a match for people with Germanic and Anglo-Saxon ancestry, which includes a Mediterranean great-grandfather. It is also riddled with indicators for conditions such as Williams-Beuren Syndrome and Urbach-Wiethe disease. Considering the purpose of Ramsus' biomodifications, it is quite probable these were inflicted through gene therapy. Williams-Beuren sufferers have no social fear whatsoever and incredible language skills, while Urbach-Wiethe sufferers present symptoms very similar to schizophrenia, probably caused by the hardening of brain tissue... which also affects to amygdalae.

Then, over half of the helix became highlighted in red, in various spots. "As for the _other_ half, it simply makes no sense at all, to the point where it can't even be called human. None of these sectors, when combined with the rest of the genome, should result in a living creature, let alone a psychic supersoldier. As for where the DNA came from, I can only guess at the origins. It doesn't match any known galactic species, not even Asari, who display abilities closest to psychic powers we know of. To try and figure it out, I ran Ramsus' genes through a growth simulation."

As she brought up the file, Neil asked: "Why? We all know how he turns out."

"As stated by Dr. Ross," replied Brea, not even looking up from her Omni-Tool. "Ramsus has had a lot of surgery done to him to correct... well, you'll see."

A hologram appeared next to her, that of an ovum turning into an embryo. It quickly became obvious, however, that it would not grow into a normal fetus. As it went on, the being that should have been Ramsus became more and more twisted and deformed: its skin became marred by white scales, and its bones in the right leg and the left arm deformed into twisted shapes. Its back became more and more crooked as time went on, preventing it from assuming a normal posture. Its head became deformed, the entire left side of the face was puckered and scarred, nearly covering up the oversized red eye. The jaw permanently dislocated, and the hare-lip revealed oversized, warped teeth.

"Oh, keelah," muttered Tali.

"Sweet mother of god..." added Ryan.

Manah merely covered her mouth in horror.

Then, the child stopped growing. The chronometer at the hologram was frozen at 12 years, 6 months, 18 days, 6 hours, 48 minutes, and 36 seconds.

"...Why does it stop there?" asked Lunchbox.

"12 years and six months is the estimated time when the heart finally fails, and that's being generous. This simulation assumes that the child would receive some care: food, and shelter. Anything less than that, and Ramsus would have probably perished at the age of five due to morphogenic anomalies due to corrupt homeobox genes. However, when you add the mutagenic properties of Element Zero... things get quite interesting."

Brea restarted the simulation, this time with the added parameter of in-utero Element Zero exposure and a steady diet of element zero supplements. Ramsus still turned out monstrous, but his left arm became more and more overgrown, its fingers becoming claws, its skin becoming even more scaly and marred by protrusions of bone.

"Based on this, it is quite probable that Johann Ramsus' parents suffered genetic corruption due to disease or exposure to radiation, and the damage was made worse by years of flawed eugenics. My personal conclusion, however, is that Ramsus is possibly the first successful case of human-alien hybridization ever."

"Not the first," said Spooky. "There were others. Back in the 2050s Versalife experimented with alien DNA from Area 51. The result? The Greys."

"Never heard of them," said Neil.

"You wouldn't. JC Denton had them all shipped to Antartica. All twelve of them. They're probably all dead, now."

"So how do you know that these Greys even exist?" asked Manah. "Did you see them yourself?"

"Nope. But there are plenty of sites with printed documents that—"

"—and why should I believe your tale?" Her tone was almost accusatory.

"Well, aliens exist, for one thing," Spooky grinned. "So all of a sudden Area 51 sounds a lot more plausible. When I meet Gandalf and the rest of the Maiar, I'll happily take the whole tale of the rise and fall of the Protheans a lot more seriously."

"Don't be a dick, man..." chided Lunchbox.

"Don't be ready to believe everything you hear," he shot back, more to Manah than Lunchbox.

"You hypo—"

Before Manah could start an argument, Hein interrupted her. "All tales are true," he said, "but few are ever _accurate_. Still, there will be plenty of time to argue about that. For now, I want you all to pay attention to what I'm about to say."

He got up on stage, brought up every image presented for the past hour, and continued: "You may all be wondering what Ancient Promethean history, the Reapers, and Ramsus' cold corpse have to do with each other? Well, if you do, you haven't been paying attention. It's the Illuminati. They want the secrets of the Prometheans for themselves, and they want the power of the Reapers. But they're playing with fire, and they know it, and that's where psionics come in..."

He brought up Theodore's picture again. "The Reapers you encountered in Dosadi were but mere _infants_. And a powerful psychic like Ramsus could easily exert his will over those... but here's the catch! Everything that the Illuminati know about psionics... they learned from the Reapers. Oops."

He paused, and grabbed images of Ramsus' malformed body and his pristine, post-surgery face. "But they don't care. Look at the great lengths they went through to turn a malformed child into a psionic supersoldier! Look at their _success_! But as Adam said, they're doomed to drag the galaxy down with them when they inevitably fall. But they're still part of the Enemy, MY Enemy, and they're your Enemy as well. All of you have suffered in some way to their machinations, and you've had glimpses of their plan for the world. So I ask you all, will you stand by and do nothing?"

Hein reactivated the lights, and the door out to the hall hissed open. "Think on the answer, and let me know in the morning."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The crew members had dispersed throughout the ship, their heads full of wonder... and full of worries. Adam had been asked more than a few questions, such as 'what is the void?' or 'what did Gaians and Messians even look like?', or even 'the hell is Blood Music?' Adam told them that he would write a few articles on the ship's wiki that would answer those questions.<p>

Speaking of questions, Adam had expected Manah to ask plenty of them, but instead she had excused herself to her quarters. That had worried him a bit, mostly because he suspected she was lying and couldn't wait to track down Montblanc and surprise him with a hug. As he tracked her down, he came across Brea in the hall.

"Ah, Adam. Looking for your little damsel?" she said, her tone a bit sardonic.

"Damsel?"

"T'soni."

"Right, I'm a little worried—"

"—Of course you are. She just hits all your buttons, doesn't she? She's small, fragile, weak, constantly frightened..."

Adam was starting to have had it up to there with this nonsense. It seemed every woman on this ship had some silly idea about what his ideal woman was. First Manah thought Tali and Adam were partners, Tali thought he and Brea were together, and now Brea was getting in on the action by assuming Adam was chasing Manah. Why did they even care?

"...As I was saying," said Adam, barely containing his annoyance, "I'm worried that she might actually attack one of the crew."

Brea was genuinely surprised, if only slightly. "Wait, what?"

Adam told her about the recent incident in the cargo hold, and she smiled wickedly.

"Is that so?" said Brea. "Thank you, I'll file that little bit of information away. Could be useful."

"Look, are you going to help me, or are you just going to stand there and be smug?"

Brea rolled her eyes, and grabbed Adam's wrist. She activated his Omni-Tool, logged into the ship's internal tracking app, and locked on to Manah's signal.

"Huh, she's headed for the cargo bay, but Montblanc isn't there."

"Maybe you should—"

That was when the ship trembled.

"...What the hell was that?" Brea asked.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Wrex entered the cozy (by Krogan standards) laboratory space Hein granted to Bakara, and found his former bride setting some equipment up. "We're getting out of here," he said without so much as a greeting.<p>

"...No." Her reply was quick, and she barely looked at him as she unpacked a DNA scanner.

"Bakara, the guy that runs this ship intends to fight a war against _ghosts._ He's insane!

Bakara chuckled. "And?

"And following him will lead you to ruin! Next port we dock in, we're gone!"

"No."

"Bakara!"

"You, long ago, lost any right to tell me what to do. As for Hein's insanity, that may be true, but seeing as he's given me such resources, I can hardly complain, can I?"

"That's it? That's the only reason you want to stay? Look, if it's hardware you need, I've got savings in the millions! I can get you what you need! Anything!"

"Can you put me in contact with peers, Wrex? Because that is what I truly need. Like-minded individuals to share ideas with." She gave him a challenging stare. "What do YOU know of life, Wrex? What do you know beyond the art of ENDING it?"

Wrex was about to say something, but whatever it was died quickly in his throat.

"You can't help me, Wrex. Hein can, so I don't care if he believes in ghosts. Most people do."

"It's not that simple—"

That was when the ship trembled, and the lights flickered.

"Are we under attack?" whispered Bakara.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the elevator, Spooky and Lunchbox rode the elevator down to the cargo bay, boxes of spare electronics in hand.<p>

"Look," said Spooky. "I'll see about Hein getting you an office job back on Earth, something quiet and away from danger. Failing that, I'll see about getting our contracts annulled."

Lunchbox scowled at him. "What the hell for?!"

"I'm supposed to keep you away from danger, kid."

"Yeah, as if putting on a white hat is gonna fix that. You know how bloody things get in the business, right? Look, there's NO WAY I'm walking away from this. I thought Hein was just some pencil-pushing fascist, but he's fighting the _Illuminati_, man! And _they're_ consorting with an ancient evil!"

"Christ, you say that like it's good thing. Look, if it's really the Illuminati we're talking about, then Hein's going to have hell rain down on him, and everyone close to him is going to die."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"It's not worth it! The Illuminati's been around for a very long time. If the goddamned Collapse wasn't enough to destroy them, what makes you think Hein can? What makes you think you'll make a difference?"

The doors opened, and the two of them walked to the area designated for spare parts and sundries.

"The Illuminati are scumbags, yes, but what do you think will happen when they're gone?"

"The world will be a better place, that's what!"

"Wrong. The world will keep going on as it has for thousands of years before. People in power exert power over the little guy, and the little guy does whatever he can to go on living. That's what it's all about, kid, for people like us. It's all about saving yourself. Let idiots like Jensen and Vakarian try and save the world, and see where that will take them."

"Yeah, well..." he set his crate down. "Maybe I _want_ to help save the world."

Spooky just shook his head. Kids. Kids always wanted a cause to _die_ for. Why couldn't they just do the sane thing and choose to _live_?

"What's that sound?" asked Lunchbox.

"Oh, so we're changing the subject now?" asked Spooky, sarcastically.

"Dude, shut up, and listen!"

Spooky strained his ears, and indeed heard someone humming a tune. They followed the sound to a tiny fort made out of storage crates right in the middle of the large storage space, right behind the Copperhead. Inside of that fort they found the five girls Lelia had been looking for, standing in a circle around the stitched up body of Johann Ramsus.

"What the hell... Kids! Get away from that!"

The girl with the pale blonde hair stepped towards the corpse, knelt besides its head, and put a flower on its right eye.

The hum became an unearthly wail, and a light surged out from the corpse and the girls. It was imbued with more than enough force to knock both Spooky and Lunchbox away, along with the barrier of crates. They landed on their back, and groaned as they tried to get up.

The entire ship rumbled.

"Spooky to Bridge," he winced in pain as he spoke into his Omni-Tool. "We, uh... we got a situation in the cargo bay!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So," managed Ryan finally. "Phantoms."<p>

"Yep," replied Grey.

The Deep Eyes had congregated on the CIC, as Neil was now stuck to the helm. Apparently, they had gone off course by about two degrees. When one dealt in interstellar distances, two degrees was a major error, and so he no longer trusted the autopilot to get them to their destination.

"Secret societies," added Jane.

"Yep."

"And psychics!" added Neil, cheerfully. "Don't forget those."

"Yep."

"So, do we believe everything?" asked Ryan. "The Prometheans, and...?"

"I don't know what to think about Adam's story," said Grey, firmly. "It's ancient history. The truth of what happened back then may be lost forever."

"And the psychics?" asked Neil. "We believe that too?"

"I think we can safely assume that Ramsus really did have psychic abilities. His biotics were way too powerful and... it's weird, even though he was doing his own thing, truth is he coordinated pretty well with us, like he knew what I needed him to do as soon as I did."

"Huh, didn't think you'd buy into that, sir," said Neil. "No offence, Captain, but you do seem like a no nonsense kind of guy."

"I believe in what I see," defended Grey, "and what I saw were nearly invisible, untouchable alien creatures killing good soldiers with impunity... and I'll be damned if America isn't prepared to face them. We're going to help Hein. We're going to capture these aliens, and whoever cooperates with them. We're going to study them, dissect them, interrogate them, learn all of their weaknesses... and then, we're going to _kill_ them. Oorah."

"Oorah," said the other Deep Eyes in unison.

"Well," added Neil. "That's all well and good, but does it have to be just us? Us, against the forces of Darkness with a capital D?"

"We could send some reports up the chain of command, sir," suggested Ryan.

"Thought about it," Grey shook his head. "It's up to Hein, really. You know what he said to me? 'People believe that only lies are incredible, and that the truth is boring'."

"In other words, we could tell everyone about what we found..." said Jane.

"...but then everyone will have us put in the asylum," finished Neil. Just then, some displays on the helm began to blink, and a worried look crossed his face. "The hell?"

"What is it?" asked Grey.

"We uh... yeah... this is weird." He tapped his comms window and contacted engineering. "Tali, why's our drive core past the red line?"

_"I was about to ask you the same thing!" _replied Tali._ "I told you not to go past a Factor of 7.5!"_

"Well, I didn't push the throttle!" Neil dialed down the speed, but then it seemed the drive core pushed itself harder to make up for the difference.

That was when the entire ship began to shake. Almost everyone in the CIC nearly fell down.

"Aw, shit!" shouted Neil as he frantically fired several thrusters across the Durendal's hull in an attempt to keep her steady. "We're going off course!"

_"Something's wrong with the drive core!" _shouted Tali frantically "_...it's...it's glowing RED!"_

_"Warp Field harmonics have gone completely chaotic!" _Verner's voice seemed more distant over the comms._ "We have to shut it down!"_

"I'm trying!"

"Screw it, full stop!" Neil attempted to make the ship do a 180 and make the fusion drives go full burn, but the constant shaking and strange turbulence made that a difficult endeavour.

_"Spooky to Bridge! We, uh... we got a situation in the cargo bay!"_

"Explain!" barked Grey, wondering all the while what the hell that strange noise was coming through his channel.

_"Well, I've got five of those kids doing some kind of ritual over Ramsus' dead body and the ship's rumbling all over! Coincidence? You tell me!"_

It all sort of clicked in Grey's head. Ramsus, a psionic, was ultimately the product of Reaper technology, and his corpse was being used by them as a Trojan horse. He went to the nearest emergency switch and put the entire ship on red alert. "Neil, stay here and keep the ship in one piece! Ryan, Jane! Go down to the cargo bay, grab a couple of Serpents, and secure the area!"

"Yes sir!"

Grey, for his part was going to suit up in his Demonica.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Nearly the entire crew, save for Tali and Neil, had found themselves in the cargo bay, drawn by the strange sounds that emanated from its center. It was a chorus that seemed to resonate from a thousand echoing crystals, so powerful it cut through the powerful alarm that rang throughout the vessel. An intense light illuminated the room, the source of which were four mandalas of light hovering above.<p>

Manah had been the second to last to arrive at the scene, and saw the Krogan woman desperately shout at the singing girls to stop whatever it was that they were doing right this instant, backed up by the dark-haired woman that had recently boarded the ship to work as a bartender.

Adam, along with Garrus, attempted to enter the circle set up by the girls, but were pushed away by an unseen force.

"Tried that already!" shouted Spooky over the noise.

"Stand aside!" The last one to arrive on the scene, Grey, was clad in his newer suit, wielding his energy rifle. He shoved some of the crowd aside, took aim at the corpse at the center of the circle, and pulled the trigger.

A barrier of light appeared, and the energy bolts came to a complete stop, becoming marbles of light that danced all around the shield.

"Hit the deck!" screamed Adam. "Those things will—"

The energy bolts surged out of the barrier like grape shot out of a cannon. Manah, panicking, covered herself in the vain hope that the bolts coming straight at her would be stopped by her measly limbs. She felt her own biotics surge, and a barrier of her own formed, protecting everyone from the reflected attack.

Voices could be heard all around, whispering blessings at what was to come. The pale blonde girl stepped forth, she pointed at Adam, and spoke:

"Bear witness, cursed one, as you always have, age after age, cycle after cycle! Bear witness to the power your children, and your children's children, have been denied! The power of the Blood Music!"

She turned her back to them, and brandished a knife. **"Sisters! It is time to feel the love of the gods!"**

Adam and Manah both recognized the words. "NO!" they both screamed, though Manah understood best what they were about to do.

The pale-haired girl's voice became sing-song. **"A deep love! A great love! A love powerful and formidable!"**

"Stop it! Stop it, stop it!" Manah pleaded in desperation.

And, without nary a fear of neither pain nor death, the girls stabbed themselves in the heart.

"A love eternal..." whispered the pale-haired girl, and she fell in her own pooling blood.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>For an entire minute, the entire chamber was devoid of sound and voice. Nobody dared to speak, out of shock and horror. Aki and Echo merely covered their mouths shut, for fear that they would scream if they removed their hands. Brea simply stared at the scene, confused, holding herself as if she was about to shiver, as if her very skin was about to crawl off. Zev consoled Lelia, who was on the verge of tears. Wrex's expression was unreadable, while the Deep Eyes and the Spookies simply stared.<p>

After that minute, the shock wore off just enough for Bakara to scream and cry, and cradled one of the tiny bodies. "DO SOMETHING!" she screamed at Aki.

The poor doctor was at a loss. "I... I don't know what to... They're _dead_. I'm sorry."

_"Bridge to Cargo bay!" _Neil's voice rang out of the intercom_. "I got the ship down to a stop but what the FUCK happened down there?!" _When he failed to get an immediate response, he said:_ "Hello? Hello...?"_

"Neil, it's Grey. We... we got... we got civilian casualties. We'll get back to you just... just give us a moment. Cancel the red alert."

_"...Roger that."_

"Why?!" Bakara asked as she wept, as surely as she just lost her own children. "WHY?! What madness possessed you to DO this?! WHY?!"

Grey approached her, carefully. "We need to clean this up."

Wrex gave him a dirty look. "Let her mourn, damn you."

"Believe me, I would gladly give her all the time in the world to mourn, but those girls were obviously Reaper agents, and whatever the hell they tried to do might have destroyed the ship!" He nodded at Ramsus' still corpse. "Thank Christ they didn't succeed, but we can't afford to..."

It was then that everyone heard a strange noise, like the chirping of a thousand little gremlins. "Get away!" shouted Brea, who seemed to shiver uncontrollably.

Quickly, the five tiny corpses turned into orange goo that fused with the blood, and the noise became louder as the puddles of red moved of their own volition towards the center of the circle. The liquid crawled over Ramsus corpse, and it began to convulse violently. Grey tried to shoot it, only for his weapon to fizzle out.

The flower set in the right eye began to grow to nearly a twenty times its original size, and roots dug deep into the corpse's flesh, draining it of what remained of its fluids. A hand popped out of the stigma, completely covered in slick red blood. The hand was followed by an arm, and the arm was followed by a head, then a torso, then legs.

The man opened his eyes and mouth, the white of his eyes and teeth providing a sharp contrast to the dark red that covered him entirely. He screamed in agony as he fell on top of Manah, who had fearlessly approached the strange event unfolding before her. The newborn was utterly confused, and flailed on top of her.

"Get off!" growled Adam as he pulled the creature off of her and tossed it down to the ground.

Flat on his back, the man kept screaming as he tried to shield his new eyes from the lights above with his left hand. It took him a moment to realize that he had no left arm at all.

The crew gathered in a circle around him, and stared down at the flailing, crying, and reborn Johann Ramsus.

Spooky summed up the situation in just three words, and twice: "What the fuck...? What the fuck?!"

"So," said Hein, grinning from ear to ear. "Anyone else still have doubts as to what we're dealing with, hm?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES<strong>: *Braces himself for inevitable complaints about lack of knowledge in the field of neurobiology and genetics* I tried to sound as vague as possible while using actual medical terms, but I suspect I got something wrong anyways. I always seem to. :/_

_Some of you have been commenting on chapter 8 (Know the Face of your Enemy) that I apparently forgot that Adam doesn't need neuropozyne. I didn't. Read between the lines, and you'll understand._

_For visual references, Prometheans look like combinations between Warframes, the Demigods from Asura's wrath, and the Occuria from Final Fantasy XII. Furthermore:_

_-Aleph looks like a cross between Warframes Oberon and Volt_

_-Beth looked like a cross between Saryn and Meyneth (from Xenoblade Chronicles)_

_-Gimmel looked like a cross between Loki (Warframe) and Egil (Xenoblade)_

_-Daleth looked straight up like Asura ('s Wrath)_

_-Zayin looked like The Forgotten One (Castlevania: Lords of Shadow) with Wyzen's (Asura's Wrath) huge shielded arm, and covered in metal. And some details from the Mechonis (Xenoblade)_


	50. Interlude 3: Angels and Demons

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

**Interlude 3: Echoes**

* * *

><p><strong>The Cast:<strong>

Alexander Skarsgård as Romeo Guildenstern

Stana Katic as Müllenkamp

Jo Wyatt as Knight-Sergeant Kenway

Author's Note: Brace yourself, dear reader. For we are taking a trip into the past, before Mass Effect.

* * *

><p><em>~[Shadow of the Colossus OST - Prologue]~<em>

_"The body is but a vessel for the soul,_

_A puppet which bends to the soul's tyranny._

_And lo, the body is not eternal,_

_For it must feed on the flesh of others,_

_Lest it return to the dust whence it came._

_Therefore must the soul_

_Deceive, despise and murder men."_

-A.J. Durai

Leá Monde, 2130

_Here, there were dragons._

Those were the words that resounded inside Knight-Lieutenant Romeo Guildenstern's head when he crossed the city gates of Leá Monde, as the unseen, subtle force that kept wanderers from discovering her in this forgotten part of southern France washed away from him. Though crumbling and overtaken by vines and flowers, the stone hybrids of Romanesque and Gothic architecture were surprisingly well preserved. So well preserved, in fact, to the point that Romeo felt like he had just stepped through a portal through time, and had been taken to the Middle Ages. The midlight's bright sunshine was reflected back on the building's tan stones and bricks, contrasting nicely with the blue sky on this hot summer day.

In the distance, to the center of the town, stood a cathedral, and upon its tallest tower was fixed a cross, though not a catholic one: An X, set upon an I, with each point looking the tip of a scorpion's tail.

Leá Monde, the forgotten city, had been founded a millennium and a half ago by Müllenkamp, Dancer-Priestess of the cult called the Light of Kiltia, as a refuge for her followers. The Kildean Islands, where the cult had been born, had gone the way of Atlantis, and its members had strayed all over Europe and western Asia for centuries before Müllenkamp somehow called the hundreds of thousands of wanderers to this very place. It was written that she had made a fortune working as an assassin, and used the coin to fund the building of the entire city.

And she would have a lot of coin: if Adam Weishaupt's journal entries on her were accurate, she had had a long and very successful career ending of lives of many a noble, using her beauty and skill at the arts of the dance to approach her targets, before slicing them apart. And according to the journals, not only was she skilled in using blades, but that she also had a wand that could spit fire and thunder at her command.

Said wand was, of course, a gun.

Many such advanced artifacts, alien to the times, had been gathered here by Müllenkamp's disciples, for Leá Monde was more than just a refuge from the influence of the Catholic Church. It was, first of all, a center of research, the true birthplace of alchemy, and where the first organization that would eventually be succeeded by the Illuminati had been founded. Much of the knowledge that had been lost to the Dark Ages had been rediscovered here, and jealously guarded.

Romeo, flanked by two fellow Crimson Blades in their standard Crusader power armour, walked through the main street towards the main Cathedral, where the search was currently focused. He saw some scribes sorting through ancient remains and artifacts. Some of them had been put on tables, and Romeo was pleased to see more than a few MP-40s and Mauser C96s being pulled away from piles of Kildean arms.

Long ago — though not that long, really — Hitler had assembled a special task force of Waffen-SS to find the fabled Spear of Destiny. The search, of course, took them to Leá Monde, and over 2000 elite German soldiers had stormed the city. Seeing as Hitler never got his hands on the Spear, it was obvious that they had lost to the city's defenders, but it seemed that the SS had had the last laugh: everyone in Leá Monde had died around the same time, if the scribe's examination of the Kildean and German corpses was anything to go by.

"My lord Guildenstern," said a veteran scribe, bowing. "I am honoured to be in your presence."

"I am no Lord," said Romeo, bowing in return. _Though that would change very soon, _he thought. He had plans for the Crimson Blades, plans that required supreme authority over them. Saman had assured him that the current head of the order would be retiring very soon. "What has been found thus far?"

"It seems the denizens of this city were quite in love with science and the arts. The city is full of workshops, laboratories and studios. We've found some interesting metallurgic samples as well as some intriguing formulae for potent medicines, such as one that uses micro-organisms to repair trauma."

Romeo nodded. This expedition had already proven worth the effort... but that was not what he had come here for. "And what of the Egg? Any news?"

"The Master Scribe is still combing the Cathedral with a fine comb, ser. Still no news, however."

Romeo peered into the scribe's eyes, and the Gift whispered secrets to him. "But you believe he is wasting his time, yes?"

"...It... it is not my place to say."

Gently, Romeo gave a subtle mental push to the Scribe, making him a bit more talkative. "Come now! The success of our mission should supersede such protocols, yes?"

"...I suppose you are right. May I take a moment of your time?"

"Of course."

The scribe guided Romeo to an artist's studio, and showed him a pencil sketch of the Egg, set onto an altar of ancient Kildean design. He then went on to explain that the light seen in the sketches was coming from straight above, as if that explained everything, somehow.

"And?" asked Romeo, controlling his impatience.

"The higher chambers of the cathedral have no lightbulb mounts, and no skylights capable of providing the necessary illumination depicted here. Assuming the artist was allowed entry into the chamber where the Egg is kept, and taking the light into account, then what we're looking for is in the city itself... or deep in the catacombs, or even beyond."

"You speak of that place with dread, Scribe."

"There have been reports of strange creatures down below. I certainly hope that the Egg is in the city, but it is not likely."

Romeo agreed. "The catacombs would be safer and more secure for such a prize, yes. I shall prepare several squads to explore the Undercity. If anything, we might find even more Kildean artifacts of value."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Here, there are goblins.<em>

In the Wine Cellars, Romeo and his two escorts — Goodwin and Sackheim — had encountered the first of what remained of Leá Monde's people. Ten generations of inbreeding, bad diet, and lack of sunlight had produced a race of savage, deformed dwarfs too stupid for language, but more than clever enough to lay traps and vicious enough to wield weapons against God's own soldiers. Fortunately, their bowguns, knives and wooden spike traps proved futile against Templar armour and assault rifles.

Their boulder traps, however, had proven quite dangerous. Still, the Templar fireteams found these goblins' dens, and under the orders of Guildenstern had eradicated them all. Men, women, and even the children... as such corruption of the blood of Man could not be allowed to exist.

With the wine cellars secured, the Templar squads proceeded to explore the catacombs, and there they encountered, of all things, _lizardmen_. These creatures proved much stronger foes, as their tridents made of tarnished silvery steel proved quite capable of defeating Templar armour, and were quick enough to enter close-quarters. For the other Templars, trained in basic hand-to-hand and heavily dependent on ranged weapons, this proved to be a problem. For Romeo Guildenstern, who trained himself in the art of fencing, these creatures proved no problem at all: his High-Frequency rapier flickered in the dark, its edge biting into scaly necks and its point piercing thick skin on its way to mutated hearts.

_I must remedy this, _thought Romeo as the last of the creatures died_. The Crimson Blades will earn their name. Peerless masters of both gun and blade we shall become, as Müllenkamp herself was._

_No... we shall become **better**._

The fight over, Romeo took the time to observe one of the fallen creatures. It had, conveniently enough, been cut from throat to crotch, revealing much of its insides. The placement of the organs was surprisingly human.

"If Leá Monde seeks to test our mettle," bragged Sackheim, "then it is not doing a very good job."

But Goodwin seemed far more concerned about the fact that they had just fought creatures straight from a work of fiction. "What manner of magicks could have spawned such... such abominations?!"

"Not magicks, Goodwin," reassured Romeo, even as he poked and prodded at the corpse. "T'is the work of science before us, the very sort our order seeks to stop. Men, corrupted into beasts."

_And __**enhanced**_, thought Romeo. _I would know what sort of mutagens could make a man so strong... and perhaps become stronger than __**them**__._

"Be they the products of Magicks or science," said Sackheim, "the codex demand that they be destroyed, and die to our guns they will."

"Aye, but I would have you tag their corpses all the same," ordered Romeo. "The Scribes shall examine them, so that we can better understand how to kill them."

The catacombs secured, Romeo and his two escorts proceeded down to the Sanctum.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Here, there are ghouls.<em>

"THE DEAD WALK!"screamed Goodwin, as he gunned down the Nazi soldier that pointed an MP-40 at him. Its brethren, risen from the dead, were undaunted by the loss, and attempted to overwhelm the Templar.

Sackheim swung his machete, muttering litanies against evil all the while, praying to God to protect them even as heads rolled. "T'is the End of Days!"

If Romeo hadn't been so busy fighting for his life, he would have rolled his eyes. "Calm yourselves!" he barked, for he knew better. Silvery discs, inlaid with gold, were set into the faces of their rotting attackers, and Romeo noted that silvery stalks were dug deep into the eyes and mouth, animating the flesh. One of these robotic parasites, upon the destruction of its host, crawled away on its stalks like some water strider, seeking a more intact vessel.

A few bullets from Romeo's Beowulf pistol into the silver shell put an end to that.

"Ignore the bodies!" Romeo screamed, "Destroy the discs!"

Minutes later, after a single EMP grenade was tossed into the horde, the battle was won, and over a hundred had perished to three.

"My God!" Goodwin couldn't quite fathom what had just happened. "Did the inhabitants of this place have such callous disregard for their own dead that they would _corrupt_ them just to delay us?"

"Delay us?" Sackheim shook his head in disbelief. "They meant to KILL us, and they would have, too!"

"Aye, they would have, were it not..." Goodwin turned to Romeo and bowed in respect. "Baphomet, Father of Understanding, guided you, ser."

"Aye," agreed Sackheim. "Were it not for you, we would have been eventually overwhelmed."

"Enough flattery," ordered Romeo. "What was the cost of our victory?"

"I still have two boxes of ammunition," said Goodwin, replacing the large magazine on his LMG. "Three hundred in total, ser."

"I've wasted two grenades," said Sackheim, "but there's plenty more where that came from." He tapped the box on his shoulder meaningfully.

_And I have spent two magazines for my Beowulf_, thought Romeo. "Rest and double-check your wargear while I warn the others about this," he ordered, as he tapped his headset. The warning sent, he decided to briefly indulge his interest in archaeology and ancient architecture.

While the wine cellars and catacombs had been little else than mazes dug into the rock beneath the city, supported by thick beams of wood, the Sanctum's walls were made of finely cut dark stone bricks. Its Gothic arches supported its vast, tall chambers. Crystals were suspended from the fan vaulted ceiling by iron chains, and from the center of each tear-shaped piece of glass there was faint light, blue-cyan in color, that cast a depressing chiaroscuro shading upon everything and everyone here.

The Sanctum, it seemed, had been used as a refuge by the city's populace from the Nazi attack, although it was quite obvious that had simply not worked. Judging by the placement of the bodies and the thousands of bullet casings — 9x19mm Parabellum, to be exact — it seemed that the stormtroopers had made it this far, and killed everyone they could find.

Something echoed in the Dark, and Romeo could hear the cries of a thousand dead.

"My God," muttered Goodwin. "They murdered everyone..."

"To kill a heathen is not murder," reminded Sackheim, "It is the path to Heaven."

"These men did not come to do _God's_ work," countered Goodwin. "I dare say they came for whatever Diablerie lies here, to empower a madman... or just themselves."

Deeper and deeper they stepped into the Sanctum, and the deeper they went, the more fallen stormtroopers they saw. Judging by the marks on their bones, it seemed that they had fallen to both blades and bullets—

_The stormtrooper watched in horror as the dancer, clad in little else than dark silks and bronze jewellery, came out of the shadows and sliced the Führer's elite soldiers apart with a scimitar._

_"Kill her!" commanded the __Sturmbannführer. "She is only one woman!"_

_But it was too late, she had already retreated back into the shadows, and would be waiting for them at her next killing ground._

Romeo shook his head, chasing the vision away. _How is this possible?_ he thought. _Scrying into the present, let alone the past... An ability that was not part of the Gift, when it awoke in me!_

_...This place. This place is changing me, I can feel it._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The 'Golem', shattered by a few high-explosive rounds and shoulder mounted missiles, crumbled into a pile of rocks. Romeo knelt besides its remains, and examined it in detail.<p>

"What diablerie was this?!" shouted Goodwin.

"Calm yourself!" admonished Sackheim. "T'was but a Wanzer, wrapped in stone!"

"There is no pilot!"

"Sackheim has the right of it," said Romeo. "Look here, inside the chest. Machinery."

"I see it," said Goodwin as he peered into the exposed chest cavity. "But... from whence did this construct draw its strength to move? I see neither cogs, nor pistons..."

Romeo reached into the machine, and pulled out something that had caught his eye. It was a shard of silvery metal that glowed brightly in the dark, and as he peered into it he understood what it was.

_Zeroth! The miraculous material that the Lunarians had squandered in their futile war against all of Earth! And such a bounty of it... Where did it come from? The Kildean Isles? Perhaps we should look into funding an expedition there, if the situation on Mars isn't resolved._

"What is it, ser?" asked Goodwin.

Romeo eyed the shard for a moment, then smiled. "The future, Goodwin. The _future_."

Romeo took his team deeper into the Sanctum to follow the trail of dead Nazis, certain that they had come for the same thing that he did. Just as he was about to unlock another one of those damned locked sigil doors, something caught his eye. He picked up the bullet casing on the ground, and followed a trail of similar pieces of brass until he found the weapon it belonged to. Said weapon had met with a lizardman's axe, and paid the price for it.

"Another artifact, ser?" asked Goodwin.

"Aye," replied Romeo.

"From these Nazis?"

"No." He then chuckled, realizing a certain irony in Goodwin's mistake. "Quite the opposite in fact. This one is from Israel, I believe, circa 1995. A Mark XIX Desert Eagle," he said, as he pulled the magazine out. "Chambered for .50 Action Express rounds."

"Much like our Beowulf handguns," commented Sackheim, patting his holster.

"Yes," confirmed Romeo, "but forget any notion of scavenging this for spare ammo. The powder in these shots is old, and the rims won't match."

"Someone else was here, more recently," said Goodwin, echoing what Romeo had already realized. Guildenstern's heart sank. He hoped that whoever this gun belonged to had perished here, and that the prize he sought was still right where it should be...

As they followed the trail of dead Nazis, wary of any of them rising, Goodwin stopped. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" asked Sackheim.

"Someone is singing... a woman... a lullaby..." he shook his head, and remembered that he had a mission to accomplish. "My apologies, t'was only my imagination."

They came cross a vast, circular chamber — a mausoleum built with European, Middle-Eastern, and Asian influences in the mind of the architect, with dozens of life-size statues of dancers set into alcoves. Each statue were of similar dress and build, overlooking a floor dominated by the bas-relief of a great tree with thousands of branches.

"Müllenkamp, I presume?" Romeo said to himself. He approached the first statue, and it indeed matched the description in Weishaupt's journals and various other Illuminati documents the most. It was a tall curvaceous figure that balanced a scimitar on its head, its pale granite failing to capture the blackness of the original's eyes, her long flowing hair, and the olive of her skin, though it did an admirable job of capturing her lovely face with its high cheekbones and small chin. Below, on the statue's podium, her name had been carved, and below that name were two numbers: 31, and 552. Assuming those were years, not only had Müllenkamp been the founder of this city, but she had lived a very, VERY long time.

The second statue was very similar in appearance to the first, save that it wielded a bow instead of a sword. This one had another name, scratched out, above 'Müllenkamp', and below the dates read 551-790.

The pattern repeated: different arms, different dates, different races, different women. An unbroken line of daughters, succeeding their mothers in bearing the mantle of the Dancer-Priestess. With each generation, their lifespans grew shorter and shorter, and the successors grew more numerous through the years. The last one, whose name could actually clearly be read — Talia — had been born in 1901, and her date of death had not been carved into stone.

_1944_, thought Romeo. He noted that 'Talia' had some interesting weapons, or most specifically, blades springing from a pair of armlets. There was something about them, something he had seen in the archives before... yes, he remembered...

_...Adam Jensen, seen here in a rare display of lethal force against asset Narhari Kahn (see attached video), is executing a move recognized by our experts — **name redacted** — and —** name redacted**— as part of Form II of the Illuminati assassination disciplines, which require the use of two arm mounted blades capable of emerging from the wrists and the elbows (see attached diagram), and perfected during the Third Crusade (1187 - 1192)._

_According to them, Jensen is using a self-taught version of Form II (mixed with CQC and Muay Thai), and they've highlighted several flaws in his technique that only proper training could have prevented. This raises the question of how Jensen could have had access to knowledge of Form II. David Sarif is a potential provider, as he has displayed quite an interest in Illuminati history. Further investigation is required._

_Recommend assets Fedorova and Namir receive Form III training through Praxis kits..._

_The tips of the blades, like chisels:_ That had been the link between the statue and the memory, Guildenstern realized, and then he promptly dismissed this realization from his thoughts. Many had received training in the Forms. In fact, the Templar's own Hunters had received training in a modern imitation of Form I, which included techniques for a much wider range of melee weapons, not to mention some impressive acrobatics.

"Do you hear that?" asked Sackheim. "I hear the wailing of a woman."

Goodwin's eyes widened. "You too? Then I have not gone mad!" He sighed in relief.

"Perhaps we are mad together," added Romeo, "for I hear her as well."

"Then you hear her wailing for her child?"

"Yes."_ And something else,_ he thought. _Something more recent_. He touched the statue of the last of the Müllenkamps, and closed his eyes, focusing on the sound...

_And he was immediately assaulted by visions of a chase and duel that seemed to last for hours. The dancer-priestess was elusive, but the Sturmbannführer was relentless. One called the other a traitor, the other called one a hypocrite; that had been the only clear sentence Romeo could make out. He caught glimpses of a laboratory, a great big vault which had a door made out of a starry night sky, a final duel, a hissing of cold gas..._

And then the visions stopped, and Romeo was somewhere else, somewhere deeper still in the depths of the city. Sackheim and Goodwin were still with him, giving him curious glances, for he had guided them to this place without so much as a word.

This place, Romeo realized, was Müllenkamp's own personal laboratory. Many a document had been ruined by gunfire and the occasional grenade from thefight, but a quick examination revealed that the last three dancer-priestesses had been looking into theoretical and applied physics, and tracking quite a few royal bloodlines — the Merovingians, the Romanovs, the Savoys, and many, many more — long after they had been deposed. At the end of each family tree was an X written in red. Whatever they were looking for in these bloodlines, the descendants had been found wanting.

A journal was set next to the genealogies, and one of the last entries proved interesting:

_"The mission at the Priory has been successful: The leadership of the Order is gone, dead by our hands. Their base is abandoned, and the products of their breeding plan have been euthanized. _

_The lame creatures haunt my dreams still: malformed, stupid things with less intelligence than apes, and yet the members of the Grail looked upon these products of generations of incest with reverence and awe, for they believed that they were of the blood of the son of God. They even plotted to lay the groundwork for the rise of a new Messiah, a leader that would unite the world in a time of great crisis, crisis that they would cause through deception and corruption._

_We had trusted the Order with the genealogies of the Merovingians, and they have failed us so thoroughly. How? I can only hazard a guess: The theory is that they began to recruit from faithful Christians some three centuries ago, and as these recruits rose to positions of power faith took precedence over reason. Important texts had been marked as heresy and destroyed. And then, corruption set in, and ambition set a new course for the sect._

_...The line of Müllenkamp — my line — is all that is left of the Blood of the First. Restoring it will be impossible, unless we start looking beyond kings and queens and into the very blood of all humankind. For we too, have strayed, too easily impressed by the ostentatiousness of royalty... for they were born simply of very rich bandits._

_There are rumours that the diamond merchant is looking into excavating the corpse of the First. Perhaps that would be a better alternative... although I must admit his association with this Hitler troubles me. He has contacted us for more insights, and what we have given him does not satisfy him._

_He wants more."_

Romeo left the texts and diagrams for later, as many were hidden by cipher. The real prize of the laboratory awaited him further down, down a spiral staircase.

This was where the duel had ended, this spherical chamber that was made of steel, divided in two by a walkway on which rested three frosted corpses. Romeo saw his breath hang in the air; whatever massive refrigeration system that kept the room at nearly minus five centigrade was still working, if the mist that emanated from the many steel tubes connected to the ring was any indication.

The first corpse belonged to a woman of no consequence. A nursemaid, by the look of her.

The second corpse, frozen in impotent rage in front of a control console and with its forearms shattered, belonged to Sturmbannführer Johann Liebert, Enlightened of the Illuminati Order... and Romeo Guildenstern's honoured ancestor.

The third corpse, with the Hessian cavalry sabre stuck in the back of her throat, was none other than the last of the Müllenkamps.

When Romeo approached them, he could feel a discordant cacophony of shouts, of screams... the thunder of steel striking steel, the screams of a babe, the hiss of a machine built to create a hole in reality itself... and loudest of all he heard Müllenkamps last defiant shout:

_"MY CHILD WILL NEVER BE YOURS! HE WILL LEAD US INTO THE DAY, WHILE YOU WILL LINGER IN THE SHADOWS FOREVER!"_

The noises and cries intensified to the point where Romeo could not bear them, and he chased them away from his mind. His senses fully his own again, he investigated the elements in the room further, and the largest piece — the ring set in the far side of the chamber — called for his attention the most. To his amazement, the ring was composed of hundreds of small cores made out of the same material that had powered the Golem. Zeroth, it was believed, had properties that allowed for the warping of reality. Had Müllenkamp attempted to open a gate to another world? The configuration of the cores into a ring suggested as such... but if that was the case, what had she sent through?

Was it the egg? No, it couldn't be... in all of the glimpses into the past the Gift granted him, the ones that had brought him here, the Egg had not been in any of them.

And yet, he still felt the need to put his hand through the empty threshold of the ring, and the closer his fingers came to it, the louder the whispers in the shadow of his mind became...

A woman's voice came through his ear piece, snapping him out of his trance: _"This is Knight-Sergeant Kenway to Knight-Lieutenant Guildenstern, please respond?"_

"Guildenstern to Kenway," responded Romeo as he approached the console that his ancestor had been silently raging against for the past two centuries. "Have your Hunters found something?"

_"They have, though we are not certain of the relevance quite yet. We've managed to carve a path deep under the city, past catacombs and mazes, but our path is barred by a giant, circular door. Our attempts at unlocking it have failed, and I have called upon a group of scribes to study it."_

Set into the steel pedestal was a key, made out of a plastic that felt like ivory to Romeo's touch as he removed it from the machine. As he did so, a faint blue-green glow flickered in the gems set into the key's arms, and pulsed along invisible circuits. Below, on the metal grating of the walkway, was another key, made of gold and silver, only broken and devoid of power.

"Let me hazard a guess about that door," said Romeo. "At the center is an indentation, in the shape of the crucifixes seen throughout the city?"

_"...Yes," _came Kenway's hesitant reply. _"How did you know?"_

Romeo smiled._ "_I believe I have found the key you need. Send me your coordinates, as I shall be with you shortly. Also, divert the scribes to my current location, for there are bodies here to preserve, and machinery in need of disassembly and thorough study."

_"As you command, ser."_

Romeo ordered Sackheim and Goodwin to keep this place secure, and as he left the chamber he felt relief, for there had been a moment there when he had thought that all his recent struggles had been for naught. But there was still hope that he would get what he wanted.

Little did he know, he would get a whole lot more.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Here, there were ghosts...<em>

Knight-Sergeant Kenway was a dark haired athletic woman of above average height, clad in light armour augmented by a light powered harness that enhanced her speed, strength and agility. Hers was quite a military pedigree: several of her ancestors had served in both the British SAS and the Israeli Defense Force, and it showed: hers was a military bearing, propped up by an air of nobility that commanded respect and would suffer no fools. She was also, in Romeo's estimation, one of the finest, most capable Templars he had ever met, and upon seeing her he knew she would the first to become a part of his new order.

For she had the Gift — or the Sight to be more exact — though she did not quite understand it just yet. For how else had she survived the deathtraps of Leá Monde while so many perished?

Upon opening the locked door and crossing its threshold, Romeo had expected the dark depths of the city to test him and his men as it always had, by challenging their mettle. He was surprised then, as the moving platforms and pillars seemed designed specifically to challenge his agility and acrobatics. Fortunately, Kenway was more than up to the task of defeating these acrobatic challenges, and unlocked safer ways for Romeo and the other Templars in heavier wargear to walk.

Hours they spent like this, with Kenway as their pathfinder, before they encountered the maze, and began to feel a force stronger than the one that had confused so many in the Snowfly Forest. Here the true test began, the test of Will...

Because here, there were _ghosts_. And these ghosts bypassed all defences and reached deep within the soul to attack the mind. Long buried secrets were unearthed, regrets were remembered, vendettas were imagined. It was not long before Templar killed Templar, either by rage or despair. Some simply lost themselves in the maze, never to be seen again.

And Romeo... was not entirely immune. _The Dark has no hold on me,_ he muttered as part of a litany meant to protect his soul, but he knew that was not entirely true.

_My will is strong, for I am the one that killed the Beast. I killed Denton! I can defeat these echoes in the Dark!_

_**Did you really? **_taunted one of the voices in the Dark. **_Did you challenge him to a duel, or did you simply wait until the Merchant assaulted his mind and the Priestess attacked his spirit from the safety of their stronghold?_**

_It needed to be done! Even crippled, he was dangerous!_

_**And they commanded you to do the dirty work, and you obeyed. You're nothing but a **_**thug****_ to them, that is all that you will ever be..._**

Even as half of the voices taunted him, others whispered to him encouragement, and the means by which he could conquer this challenge. He _knew _he could resist this force, he _knew_ how to focus his will to resist it, and how to grant that resistance to others.

All he had to do was let the Dark in...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Thirty men. Thirty men out of a hundred. That was all he could save from the torment. He had paid close attention to Kenway, at first because he had great plans for her, and then because she was the only one he could lean on, lest he fall over from exhaustion.<p>

They came upon a vast room, and the far wall — made of bones — was an ossuary, easily ten meters high, and upon its center was a double door. Romeo knew that the Egg was just beyond them.

"...Can it be?" muttered Kenway, tired beyond belief. "Is this the prize... finally?"

"Aye, it is..." confirmed Romeo. Behind him some of the men were falling on their knees, praising God, while others puked in their own helmets.

"Come on, then... just a few more steps!"

"No! No... there could be more dangers inside, and we are all exhausted." He pulled free from her grasp, eager to recover some dignity in front of the men before commanding them to rest, while a handful set up some floodlights to illuminate the great stone room. Rations were consumed, stimpacks were injected, and the Templars were well on their way to recovering their lost strength.

Kenway, feeling more restless than tired, killed some time by looting a nearby corpse, one of dozens strewn about. This one was obviously several thousand years old, judging by how the flesh had completely rotted away from the bones. The only thing of value on it was an arm-guard made of red cloth and sculpted plates of bone, which were finely detailed with masterfully carved floral patterns. She tried it on, and much to her surprise a blade of bone sprang from the wrist, and then receded. It took a few more tries before she realized that it responded to her will, not the movements of her hand.

"Interesting," she said to herself.

"Indeed," Romeo said from behind her. "It seems it was made just for you."

"Ser!" she turned to face him, standing at attention.

"At ease, Sergeant. I came to speak to you on a personal matter."

"...What matter would that be?" asked Kenway, growing more tense.

"How long has it been since the Gift manifested in you?"

"...I'm not sure what you—"

"There is no need to lie to me. You solved many of the maze's puzzles, and the clues were hidden to all save for you. I know this, because I too am Gifted, and felt it when you tapped from the Dark to See."

Kenway said nothing.

"Fear not," whispered Romeo, as he leaned in close and put a hand on her shoulder. "I have no love for the Inquisitors. I just want to share with you a vision of the world... are you ready? Close your eyes."

Kenway obeyed.

"It is a world... ruled by US."

"...The Gifted?" she asked.

"The _**strong,**_" Romeo corrected, as he pulled away from her and made his way towards the double doors.

"It's getting stronger," said Kenway. "The Gift, I mean..."

"I know," smiled Romeo, his hands caressing the skulls embedded in the doors. "Beyond that door lies a prize that will make us powerful beyond belief..." Unable to wait any longer, he pushed them open, and through the widening gap he could make out his prize, the Egg, set upon an altar, illuminated from above surrounded by an arsenal of weapons.

And then, suddenly, the doors shut, and would not yield to anything.

_**"I was almost tempted to let you take it," **_said a voice in the shadows. The floodlights flickered, and the Templars began to panic.**_ "Let it corrupt you, drive you all insane, and laugh as you murder each other. But I cannot forswear my duty. The Gaian artifacts will never leave this place..." _**

A phantom made of green and gold lights flickered to life amidst the Templars, and spoke: _**"...and neither will you."**_

Romeo looked upon the phantom and recognized the dress, the veil, the face with a mixture of Slavic, Mediterranean and Asian features."Müllenkamp," he hissed.

And then all hell broke loose when Müllenkamp opened her attack with the most terrible weapon of all: she spoke the truth.

Romeo was, for all intents and purposes, a mutant, the very kind the Templars were sworn to destroy. Then, she played to their superstition: for how else could he have resisted the evil of the maze, if he was not party to it?

Half of the Templars believed her words, and the other half denied them, believing that Romeo's faith had carried them through. It came to blows, then gunfire. Kenway had tipped the balance in Romeo's favour, opening the reprisal with an impressive use of her new weapon, which was quite capable of piercing the helmet of a Crusader Power Armour. When the skirmish was done, the traitors were all dead, and those loyal to Romeo numbered at seven.

And the last of the Dancer-Priestesses just stood there, among corpses both old and new.

"You've played your last trick!" screamed Romeo victoriously. "You have no power over us!"

_**"Power is such a fickle thing. Look at you, and your panoplies... you have so much power..."**_

That was when one of Romeo's men drew his machete and attempted to cut him down. Romeo deflected the blow with his rapier, a difficult display of swordsmanship, as his own strength was not augmented by servo motors.

"My lord! Help me!" screamed Romeo's attacker even as he tried to beheadhim. "T'is not me doing this!" His protests died when Romeo stabbed him in the throat, but the attacks did not cease.

_**"But the more power you think you have..." **_Müllenkamp's voice echoed through the dead man's vocalizer. Kenway jumped on the dead Templar's back and buried her hidden blade deep in his Crusader's power pack, and the attacker fell. Then, another Templar swung at Kenway, and Müllenkamp spoke again through his helmet: **_"...the easier it is for me to take it from you!"_**

With a better grasp of what the Crusader power armour could do and its weaknesses, the possessing phantom became an even more formidable foe. While the rest were busy fighting for their survival, Romeo frantically tried to figure out how to stop Müllenkamp once and for all.

_There's no such thing as ghosts! Psychic echoes, yes, but there's nothing on Earth that can take over machines! No, technology is at work! I can hear the hum of machines... but where are they?! Inside the walls?_

Romeo's thoughts then turned to Kenway, and her keen sight._ Lend it to me, _he commanded silently, as he tapped deeper into the Dark to enhance his own power. _Show me the world as you see it!_

The lights seemed to fade away, all the better to contrast with the glowing figures moving around him. There was Kenway, and the last three Templars, glowing gold, their souls bright with their faith and their hate. There was the ghost, glowing green with flecks of gold, with tendrils of light connecting her to three floating machines in the shape of candlesticks.

_They were cloaked all along! _Romeo fired his Beowulf pistol at the floating machines. Sturdier than expected, he had to empty a whole clip to take down one. In time, he destroyed all three, but by then only Kenway was left. No matter, for the day was won.

Or so he believed, before Kenway's eyes flared green.

"No!" he screamed. "Damn you to hell! She was going to be the first!" His weapon empty, Romeo engaged the possessed Kenway in a sword fight. "Don't think you'll be able to take my mind over as easily once I vanquish you! My will is of steel!"

_**"But your body is flesh."**_With Kenway's body, Müllenkamp was at her finest. Many of Romeo's sword strikes hit nothing but air, leaving him open to a counterstrike. Unable to pierce his chestplate, she focused on undoing its straps. Before long, Romeo's torso was bare. _**"And flesh can be cut!"**_

But the Templar was no untrained fool. His opening attack had neatly sliced her gun in two, denying her a quick victory, and his aggressive strikes, while they often backfired, kept her from picking up another gun.

Romeo could hear a hundred footsteps, and he smiled, for he believed reinforcements had arrived.

He was correct, though they did not come to aid him. The Templars that came through the open doorway had these damnable silver disks covering their faces, and Romeo nearly lost all hope of survival when the shambling, corrupted Templars surrounded him, then attacked.

_No! I refuse to perish here! I've come too far!_

Romeo's saving grace was that the disks were controlled by programs barely smarter than animals, and had not been able to overcome the somewhat complicated security system built in every Templar gun. As such, the LMGs in their puppets' hands were little more than clubs, and they used them as such. His other advantages? The Crusaders were fighting the movements of the puppets, making them slow, and the disks were easy targets for his rapier.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!" raged Romeo as he brought his fifth Corrupted Templar down. The Possessed Kenway was hidden amidst the crowd of shambling puppets; Romeo caught glimpses of her form between them, but blurry ones. "Kenway? Are you still awake in there?!"

Another Templar corpse was put to rest. "I know you are! Müllenkamp's control over you is not absolute! Fight her!"

"My lord...!" Kenway groaned in warning, and Romeo had barely enough time to deflect her incoming strike. She retreated back into the forest of undead, and waited for another chance to strike.

Eventually, one of the Templars got the better of him: he blocked when he should have deflected, and his sword finally broke. He was clubbed in the chest, and as he fell on his back he could hear the clatter of something small and metallic hitting the ground. Unwilling to give up, Romeo scrambled to find a weapon, anything that he could use to try and kill one last _traitor_...

Romeo saw the shard he had recovered from the golem, long and gleaming and sharp, and he took it in his hand. Just as he rose, Kenway was in the air with her hidden blade up, ready to be brought down on his throat. Time froze as secrets were once more whispered in his mind, only to resume as his rage and desperation could be contained no longer. The shard glowed, and from that light emerged a burst of Dark Energy that sent Kenway flying into the ossuary's wall.

Romeo took a moment to look upon the aura that surrounded his body: blue flames, that spat out hundreds of bright red embers that swirled about him like moths around a light. That moment didn't last long, as the Corrupted Templars renewed their attacks. Their makeshift clubs struck walls of energy, and bounced off Romeo's body.

Romeo laughed cruelly as he swung his arm and swatted away a score of his enemies. With this reprieve, he telekinetically pulled a high-frequency machete into his free hand. Thus armed, he began to cut apart the Corrupted that had figured out how to use their guns, by pulling them within range. Others had been thrown into the air, and been promptly brought down into the ground.

"Enough of this," Romeo said, as gravity seemed to cease functioning and the Corrupted Templars floated helplessly in the air. A bolt of blue energy flew out and struck one of the animated armours in the chest, and it seemed as though it had been turned into a magnet that attracted other living suits to it. Before long, a spherical mass of bodies had come together above Romeo, and with cracking and groaning the sphere became smaller and more perfect, until finally it could become no smaller, and all of the Corrupted had been crushed.

"So... this is the true power of Element Zero," Romeo said to himself. All of the floodlights the Templars had set up were destroyed, and his aura became the sole source of illumination in the entire area. "Mass Effect, bound to the will of a Man... as it should be, yes."

The Possessed Kenway, who had managed to hold on to dear life while all else had been sucked in by the Singularity, was now sprawled on the ground, trying to get up, even as her hold on her host was obviously failing.

"How right you were..." said Romeo as he approached her, sheathing his machete. "Power is so easily taken away..."

'Kenway' tried to attack him, only to be knocked down by an invisible force over, and over again until finally Romeo tore off her helmet, grabbed her by the hair, and lifted her up. "Case in point," he snarled, holding up the shard for her to see, "it wasn't smart to leave such POWER laying around for the TAKING!"

To his surprise, she merely laughed. "Yes, the Gaians gave you such power, but do you think they will let you keep it? That is not their way... you will fight to keep it with every waking moment."

"Whoever these Gaians are, I shall defeat them, as I defeated you."

"So certain, are you? Go on, sow the seed of their return, but in the end all you will reap is DEATH."

"I tire of this!" Romeo's eyes glowed red, and he became as sunlight, and all of what remained of Müllenkamp's spirit was burned away.

He dropped Kenway's body, and checked for a pulse... "I am so sorry about this, Kenway," he said, as he recovered a nearby pistol and checked its magazine. "But if it is any consolation, you have proven your worth this day..."

The double doors beckoned him, and he approached them, his aura flaring bright. He tried to open them with his hands, but they would not yield to them, so with a single motion an invisible force tore them wide open.

"Finally... finally," he said, as the exertion finally took its toll on his body, and his breath became ragged. As if to taunt him, what had been a doorway suddenly became an endless corridor of bones and skulls, assembling before his very eyes... but he pressed on, even as the spirits of countless dead wailed all around him. He pressed on, for there was a light at the end of this swirling tunnel... that's where the Egg was.

"Half way there... just a little more," he groaned, stumbling.

"You so sure about that?" said the soldier wearing half a red mask. "I mean, how the fuck can you even tell?"

Romeo ignored him.

"See, this is fucking new!" said the Warrior, reappearing nearby in a puff of black smoke. "I mean, you wear a CROSS, for fuck's sake! I mean," he laughed, for reasons known only to him. "I mean, that's some ironic shit, right there!"

Romeo kept walking as the man vanished.

"It makes sense, actually... so much death, so much killing in His name. Each and every time, the same thing..."

He was getting close, now, so close he could almost—

The animated skeletal remains — that of some marauder that had once, long ago, been lured into Leá Monde by the Egg — leapt out of cover from behind a pillar of skulls. Blinded by the light, Romeo could not react as the skeleton loosed a quarrel from its bowgun.

Romeo screamed, as the rusty bolt buried itself in his lung, and he fell on his knees.

"AND HE'S DOWN!" shouted the Warrior in celebration. "One! Two! Three!..."

The pistol roared, again and again, as Romeo stepped towards this last obstacle and perforated its skull.

"I! WILL! NOT! DIE! TODAY!" Each word was punctuated with a shot, and when the skeleton fell the light it was guarding became brighter and brighter, engulfing everything.

"Welcome to the club," said the Warrior, smiling...

...but Romeo could neither hear nor see him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Romeo stumbled and fell face first into the dusty floor of the ossuary. He struggled for every breath as he tried to rise, and upon seeing his surroundings he realized that he had only walked maybe twenty steps in reality. He winced, and put his hand on the open wound in his torso, though the bolt that caused it was not there. His hand, and the shard it held on to, were now covered in blood.<p>

Were it not for his wounds, Romeo would have marvelled at the treasures within the chamber of bones, itself bathed in the golden light emanating from a globe of light set on the ceiling by the wax of a great insect. All kinds of arms had been gathered here, the relics of war that had ended millions of years ago, yet its echoes could be felt even now. Swords and axes, staves and flails, spears and halberds, rods and maces, even bows and guns... all kinds were stored here. The centrepiece of this arsenal was a beautiful saber made out of carved ivory and obsidian, planted into the ground in front of a pedestal sculpted from stone.

The Kildean details and letters matched the drawing the Scribe had showed him earlier. Upon that pedestal sat a sphere that seemed to be made of porcelain. And sure enough, because he had earlier fired his gun at a ghost, the Egg was cracked and partially damaged.

"No..." he despaired, "NO! To have come so far and..."

**"SUCH DESPAIR, BUT YOU NEED NOT WORRY."**

From the cracks of the Egg emerged eyes, and they stared intently at the exhausted Templar. In turn, the arms of the arsenal opened their own eyes.

**"WOUNDS MEND, AND THE SCARS MAKE US STRONGER." **The voices were legion, but the one that addressed him was loudest of all. "**ROMEO GUILDENSTERN, YOU HAVE COME ALL THIS WAY, AND FACED OUR POWER... AND AT SUCH STRENGTH OF WILL WE CAN ONLY ASK A QUESTION, AND YOU MUST ANSWER, AND ANSWER HONESTLY."**

"Ask it!" shouted Romeo.

**"WHAT DO YOU WANT?"**

Some would take time to ponder the philosophical implication of that question, but not Romeo, for his mind was made up: "Power!"

The voices laughed. _**"ALL MEN DESIRE POWER," **__said one._

_**"WHY NOT GATHER WEALTH?" **_asked another._** "YOU CAN BUY POWER WITH IT!"**_

_**"WHY NOT INSPIRE IDOLATRY?" **_asked a third.**_ "POWER WILL BE GIVEN TO YOU THEN!"_**

"Wealth?! Idolatry?!" screamed Romeo furiously. "I want nothing to do with either! Mankind SUPPURATES with profiteers! Fawning politicians lick the boots of merchants and priests, who do nothing and blame others for their failures! One steals our dreams while the other twists them into nightmares!"

Romeo was standing now, his exhaustion and blood loss utterly ignored. "My answer remains the same! I want power! Power to bring about a fresh wind that will fan the flames of a human revolution!"

_**"Flames?"**_ asked a voice, as if waking from a deep slumber.

_**"Fire!"**_ confirmed another, with joy.

"Fire to cleanse this corruption!" continued Romeo. "Power to bring about unwavering justice so that it can never rise again! Power to conjure fear to enforce that justice!"

_**"Fire! Fire! Fire!" **_the voices cheered, and Romeo smiled.

"Give me the power, the purest power there is!"

**"NO."**

"What?! But..."

**"WE DO NOT MERELY GIVE POWER. THAT IS NOT OUR WAY, THE GAIAN WAY. IF YOU DESIRE POWER, THEN YOU MUST EARN IT!"**

"I have passed your tests!"

**"AND YOU RECEIVED MUCH FOR THEM. BUT WORRY NOT, FOR WE TOO DESIRE TO CHANGE THE WORLD, AND YOU WILL HELP US TO DO IT. WE WILL GIVE YOU THE CHANCE TO TAKE MORE POWER... AND TO DO THAT, WE ASK BUT FOR TWO THINGS..."**

Romeo chuckled, bitterly. "Name your price, then!"

**"FIRST, A SAMPLE OF YOUR BLOOD..."**

"Done!"

**"SECOND, A PIECE OF A DEAD GOD, A PIECE OF..."**

The voice spoke a word, which was many words: Nethicite, Materia, Starfire, Metatron...

Zeroth.

_The shard! _Romeo realized as he stared down at the bloodied piece of glowing metal."This was once part of a god...?"

**"EVEN A DEAD GOD CAN DREAM, AND THEIR DREAMS ARE POWER."**

"I... I understand. And what will happen when I give you my blood and the shard?"

**"THEN YOU SHALL HAVE THE MEANS TO SOW THE SEEDS OF OUR RESURRECTION. TO SOW THE SEEDS OF WAR, AND FEAR, AND FIRE... AND REAP ALL THE POWER YOU WANT... OR PERHAPS, WE SHALL BE THE ONES TO REAP YOU."**

"...And if I refuse?"

**"THEN WALK AWAY FROM HERE, WITH NOTHING TO SHOW FOR IT! THESE ARE OUR CONDITIONS, AND YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO NEGOTIATE, FOR WE CAN SIMPLY CALL ON ANOTHER! WHAT SAY YOU?!"**

Romeo considered his options as he stared down at the shard. His descent into the depths of Leá Monde had made him stronger, he knew it. He could walk away from this place, with more strength than he had when he first entered it, and the Scribes up above were unlocking such secrets...

He entertained the thought of simply taking the weapons, too, but he knew in his heart that they would not obey him, for these things had wills of their own, and would not suffer a traitor to their beliefs.

He squeezed the shard tightly. Such a small price... A tiny price to pay, for the chance at even more power. For he knew that for all that he had earned, it was not enough to dislodge the Merchant and the Priestess from their seats of power. He imagined himself going after them personally, and the dream ended with him being cut down by Alexander.

_Alexander... The **Merovingian**, as he likes to call himself. _Romeo shut his eyes, choking on his own frustration. _I must become stronger than he._

He opened his eyes, his course was set.

"I accept."

**"THEN STEP FORTH."**

The cracks in the egg widened to reveal a darkness, from which streams of blood flowed straight down, down the pedestal, forming puddles on the ground. Romeo stepped forth, and put the bloodied metal shard inside of the widening crack, around which eyes looked on in anticipation.

**"YES..."**

Romeo let go, and the wound on the shell sealed itself up. Then there came a rumbling, and a wailing, and screaming. For the Egg transformed itself into a woman of stone. Her belly swelled and swelled, until she had no choice but to lay her back upon the pedestal. Then her belly became nearly twice her size, and her colourless face contorted in agony.

**"THIS CHILD WILL CARRY IN HER THE LEGACY OF THE GAIANS: A LEGACY OF DRAGONS, OF GODS, OF **_**DEMONS**_**... SHE WILL BE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE ANGELS, AS STRONG AS THE TITANS, AND AS POWERFUL AS THE **_**SUN**_**."**

The stone belly cracked. And stone arms flailed to reach the sword set into the ground. Romeo knew what he had to do when he took it, and struck.

**"THIS IS OUR GIFT TO YOU, GUILDENSTERN. AN EXAMPLE OF ALL THAT YOU CAN BECOME. USE HER WELL!"**

Blood splashed on Romeo's face, and his reaction was simply to smile, and spread out his arms to welcome a new creature into the world.

And then the Egg broke apart, and a sea of blood flooded the chamber.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Kenway woke up when she felt something wet on her face, though consciousness took a moment to take hold once again. She shot up when she realized it was blood, or tried to, but strength had not quite returned to her arms. She reactivated her powered frame, and that allowed her to finally rise.<p>

The floor was covered with the red liquid, flowing from a pair of vast double doors that had been torn open by what could only have been a giant.

"Kenway to... to anyone. Is anyone out there?"

No reply came through her headset, though cries echoed out the doorway of fractured bones.

"Knight-Lieutenant?" she called out, approaching the doorway, fear in her laboured steps.

"Come closer," said Romeo, "for I have something to show you."

Despite herself, Kenway obeyed, and stepped through. Sitting at the center of the room, surrounded by blood and arms of bone with his chest bare, was Romeo Guildenstern, cradling a baby in his arms.

"What is it, ser?"

Romeo smiled, and looked down upon the child with his red eyes.

"The future," he replied.

And thus was born the first true biotic.

Not in a lab,

nor by accident,

but through a pact with antediluvian powers...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Interlude: Ice and Fire<strong>_

_**The cast:**_

Emilia Clarke as Subject Zero

Gaspard Ulliel as Alexandre

Iain Glen as Ursus

There will be untranslated French in this chapter. Yes, it's intentional.

I know, you hate me. :)

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>2156<p>

In a dark chamber full of medical machines, on a bed of steel and plastic, lay a pale woman with even paler blonde hair, and inside her belly a monster was growing. Litres of chemicals were pumped into her blood, to keep her sedate, to make sure the monster would grow strong and healthy.

But even as her body slept, her mind was quite awake, and in that mind there was the ability to see without eyes and hear without ears and strangle without hands. And she could feel the Monster grow inside of her, and try as she might to reach out and kill it, its mind — its will — proved itself to be so much stronger.

But there was something else growing inside of her, she knew. All that the Monster did not want for itself grew out into a deformed mass, that would be removed and discarded into the garbage later on. But the woman had other plans, and so she breathed a bit of her spirit into it.

Not through sorcery, that would be silly. No, she simply spoke to it.

_**Hello, you.**_

_**I wonder if you can understand me, but you probably can't. I wish I could make you understand the rage I am feeling, but it's too much for you. I don't want to mess this up.**_

_**A name? I have none to give you, for my father never saw fit to give me one. He said I had to earn one, and I believed him. The doctors called me Subject Zero, for I was the first biotic they had ever poked and prodded with their tools. Grandfather — Oh, where is he? I do so miss his garden — gave me one... but I wanted my father's name most of all, and I forgot it...**_

_**While I still have time, I want to tell you a story, my story, so that you can understand what I'm about to ask of you.**_

_**That's right! That's right! Reach out, reach into my spirit, open it like a book, and see...**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Old Paris, Le Marais, 2149<p>

_**It began here, in a coffee shop, of all places.**_

The woman in white tapped her fingers against the glass of her table, waiting patiently for her order. The table's hologram showed her a stream from the BBC, which had caught her attention.

_"Could your child be a mutant?"_ asked the reporter to her audience. _"It's been five years to the day since the Singapore incident, and almost one since the Vancouver disaster. Worries of the mutagenic effects of Element Zero exposure were recently confirmed by World Health Organization research teams. Thousands have been diagnosed with both benign and malignant tumours already, and have been quarantined for their safety. According to their reports, infants are the most likely affected."_

_"If you were present at both incidents," _said her co-host, _"and were pregnant at the time, and you wish to have you and your child examined, please contact..."_

The woman snickered as she dismissed the holo.

"Quelque chose the drôle?" asked the waiter, smiling, as he brought the woman her order: a croissant with pear filling, and a cup of hot coffee mixed with chocolate. She didn't reply, save to say 'Thank you' when he was done putting the items on her table and left.

The waiter gave her another smile, as he looked back. When she was done with the croissant and sipped her drink he returned to her table, but instead of giving her the bill, he gave her an appraising, questioning look for a moment.

"On s'est déjà rencontrés, non?" he asked. "J'ai l'impression que je vous ai croisé quelque part..."

The young woman merely looked at the waiter, who looked away for a moment, embarrassed. He was tall, and a bit lanky, but she could make out an athletic build under his black button shirt and his dark blue apron. His head, somewhat narrow and gaunt, but with a very chiseled jawline, was topped with a mess of short black hair. His voice had the pitch of a young man in his late teens, but with a gravelly edge to it.

"Est-ce que vous vivez dans le 17ième? Je vous ai peut-être apercue dans le quartier?"

The young woman sipped her coffee, and made a point of ignoring the boy. Unfortunately, she was smiling and that seemed to encourage him to stick around and pester her some more.

He chuckled. "Pas très bavarde!" He paced a little, nervous, thinking about what to say next. "Je sais pas, mais... Il me semble que je vous ai déjà vue. Vous avez l'air mystique, comme femme."

The woman rolled her eyes.

"Non, vraiment, il y a un truc très spécial qui se dégage de vous," he said, before audaciously sitting down in front of her. "Tu crois aux esprits? Moi, si! Et je me dis qu'on aurait pu se connaitre dans un autre temps, ou une autre époque..."

As he was talking, she took out a pack from her short raincoat and took out a cigarette from it. "Du feu?" she asked, her accent heavy.

"Ah, bien sur!" the waiter happily took out his lighter, an old thing of silver and steel that was engraved with a cross within an arch ( wiki/Gelasian_Sacramentary), each finely detailed with beasts, fishes, and vines. He got her to lean in close for her to light up the cigarette in her mouth, and he took the time to admire her gorgeous, smooth face, then looked down into the table's glass to see her long, smooth, bare legs. Meanwhile, the woman took note of his generous mouth and his indigo eyes...

"C'est vraiment étrange, et étonnant, parce que dès que je vous ai vue, J'ai soudainment eu le besoin the vous parler, et..." he sighed. "Je me suis dit que, si je ne te parlais pas avant que tu disparaisse, bien, j'allais passer quelque chose de... de special. Et que je le regretterai pour toujours."

The woman stared right into the indigo eyes, breathed in from her cigarette, and slowly let out the smoke from her lungs, right in the boy's face. She had expected him to have a fit of coughing right then and there, but instead he merely stared back, his expression amused. The woman thought then that maybe this young man was worth her time, at least one night's worth, maybe...

...Before the owner of the coffee shop barked at his waiter from the counter. "Alexandre!"

The waiter coughed, startled. "Patron!"

"Arrête de déranger la jeune dame et mets-toi au travail, fainéant!"

The waiter scrambled away from his seat. At that moment, a large lightly tanned muscular man in the middle of his thirties, carrying a long suitcase, walked in. He was wearing a long brown suede coat with celtic patterns sewn into the fabric, and a bronze torc around his neck.

His round spectacles couldn't hide his sad grey eyes.

The woman waved him over, and he took a seat in front of her.

"Ursus," she greeted.

"My lady," he nodded.

"You're _late_."

"I know. Will you punish me, my lady?" He asked this, sounding almost hopeful.

_**Ah, Ursus. My father gave him to me on my eighteenth birthday. Look at him! His body is a tower of muscle, but instead of a being a dumb barbarian, his body was host to the soul of a slave. He loved pain, and hoped that his occasional outbursts of brutal honesty and slights would make me **_**hurt****_ him. But I learned how to be cruel to him when I wanted to._**

"No," she said tersely, and at this Ursus cast his eyes down, sadly.

_**But there was almost nothing he wouldn't do for me, especially after that night, when I took him to my bed and scratched him, and bit him, and punched him... He would follow me to hell, and I would gladly have taken him there.**_

The waiter came by to serve Ursus, and the Templar, polite as ever, ordered a cup of espresso. "Was he bothering you, my lady?" he asked, when the waiter left to pick up his order.

"Maybe. I think he was hitting on me."

"You think?"

"I didn't understand a bloody word. He said a lot of things that aren't in my phrase book."

"Shall I have him chained to your bed later tonight?"

"No," she said, but she pondered the idea a bit more. "Well, maybe. After we're done with whatever business awaits."

"Of course. Your father has need of you..."

_Then, there wasn't a phrase in the world I could possibly love more. How rapidly things change..._

Ursus handed the woman a small electronic chip filled with encoded data. She quickly slotted it in her smartphone.

"Finally! I was going insane with boredom!" Her father had sent her to Paris with instructions to lay low and stay out of trouble until called upon to assist in the Templar's covert affairs in Europe. This wasn't new to her: at 16 she had already participated in a few operations in the Algerian Wastelands to destroy those sects that rebelled against the Order's control. It was one of the first missions undertaken by the reformed Crimson Blades, too.

At first her assignment to Paris had been enjoyable, but she could only have bought so many shoes and scarves and dresses and other fine clothes and eat rich, tasty food for so long before getting bored.

_I **needed** gunfire. I needed explosions. I needed to cut people down. You've got my blood in you, you'll need the same things, too._

"Anything you can tell me here?" she asked.

"Not much," said Ursus as the waiter brought him his espresso. "... save that your father's other employees were indisposed... so the job may require a bit a more delicate touch."

"Is that so?"

"The competition has been nasty, of late."

'Competition' meant the agents of the Merchant and the Priestess, the woman in white knew. Though the Triumvirate were part of the same organization, the truth of the matter was that they were frequently at odds with one another, looking for any advantage against the other two.

"Then perhaps we should get to it right away," she said, downing her coffee.

"As you wish," said Ursus, doing the same. "I've already arranged for some transportation as well as some assistance."

They had to pay at the counter, as the waiter was nowhere to be found.

"What's in the suitcase?" asked the woman as they made their way to a large gray van.

"A present from your grandfather," replied Ursus.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside the van, the woman was completely naked, with the contents of a couple of open suitcases displayed before her, ready to be worn. She left her smartphone on a counter, and let the briefing play as she put on her equipment.<p>

She caught Ursus taking a few quick glances at her with the rear view mirror, and smiled.

_"My child."_ The face speaking on the tiny OLED screen was pale, gaunt but harsh, and decorated with a dark goatee and topped with short dirty blonde hair parted on the side. This was the face of her father, Romeo Guildenstern, Lord General of the Templar elite known as the Crimson Blades. The woman knew him as Father. _"Almost all of my operatives in Paris have either gone to ground or been killed. You and Ursus are the only ones left, and I have a mission of paramount importance for you..."_

Father had arranged for her to receive the Obsidian, a prototype of something called a 'hard-suit'. It was for all intents and purposes a full suit of armour, and she hated it. With Ursus' help, she cut the whole thing down to a waist high black corset that left her navel exposed. Its primary component, a shield generator in the shape of a ring, was plugged into the small of her back. Why? She had her reasons.

An image of an old scholarly man appeared on-screen._ "This is Jacques Saunière, a curator at the Louvre. He has been doing valuable research for us for the past decade, and he recently made an intriguing discovery, written on a scroll of parchment. My enemies discovered his activities, however, and are sequestering him in his workplace, trying to decipher his work. Your primary objectives will be to recover the scroll and bring it back to the nearest Crimson Blade outpost in France. As for Saunière, who should be located in the top floor of the Richelieu wing, extract him if he has proven himself loyal. If not, kill him." _

It would not do to walk around Paris bare-chested, so she put on a white dress over the corset. 'Dress' was a generous word for it, considering it looked more like a few wide bands of cloth sewn together to leave the impression of a dress. She put on matching sleeves trimmed with black fur and a pair of long socks. As a final touch, she tied a black ribbon into her long hair. The woman in white loved to be fashionable, even on a mission.

_Especially_ on a mission.

It was too bad she would have to wear a short raincoat over the outfit, though.

The faces vanished, and three-dimensional map of the Louvre loaded. _"You will need to be discreet. The Louvre is vast and the guards are the best the SSC has to offer. It will be best if you enter during the day: Kenway's training will serve you well in the crowds of tourists, as far as the low security areas are concerned. The upper floor will have better security, and no civilian crowd to blend into. Be stealthy. If you must kill, do so quietly."_

After she put her warpaint on (which involved lip gloss and mascara), she opened the case Ursus had brought her and smiled at the contents. On the top of the lid, wedged inside foam, was an _Algol _lever-action carbinewith its stock removed and its barrel shortened, and thirty-six .357 Magnum hand-loaded rounds in silver casings. Inside the case proper, however, was a heavy sabre made of fine white ivory and obsidian. She completely forgot about the Beowulf pistol and high-frequency machete Ursus had prepared for her for this mission, knowing that these would fare much, much better.

Guildenstern's face reappeared on-screen._ "You do not have much time, and little resources to work with. Review the attached data, and then destroy it. Do not fail me, girl." _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The Louvre had seen worse days: during the Collapse, the place had been bombed, then its ruined husk became the stronghold of the largest gang of thugs in the city. When civilization was restored and the museum was nearly restored, the place was once again bombed by radicals who thought the new government should have spent its money elsewhere... which led to even more money being wasted when it was rebuilt once again. They had spared no expense in making sure that the details, from the glass pyramid right down to the size of the bricks, matched the surviving pictures of the museum from before the Collapse.<p>

Sadly, not many of the works of art stored there had survived the decades of bombings: the portrait of the Mona Lisa, for example, was little more than a charred piece of wood preserved in a glass case. To the woman in white, it seemed a little odd that the French simply did not replace it with something more beautiful. But then again, that's all she understood about art. Beautiful things, meant to be seen in all their glory.

Like herself.

Her steps were those of a runway model. Her high heels clapped loudly against the stone of the plaza as she made her way to the Louvre's main entrance, her smartphone in hand. She was currently in a text chat session with Worm, a hacker Ursus had contracted to provide her with electronics support on this mission.

_Worm: I'm in. _

_Worm: I can delay both the SSC and the Police's response if things get out of hand. I can do more, if you can plug your smartphone into a security node._

The two SSC guards, in their white uniforms with black stripes and orange pips and emblems, nodded at her politely and let her through. Getting in the lobby was the easy part. After all, she was a just a lovely young woman in a short raincoat, buying her ticket in. The guards gave her no trouble, though some of them paid close attention to her long legs. It was when she went through the weapon detector that things got a little interesting.

"Mademoiselle, votre malette?" said one of the guards as they approached to surround her, once the alarm klaxon had gone off. Their stance was non-threatening, but they kept their hands close to their weapons. The woman in white felt flashes of anxiety from them all, but they kept it under control.

"I..." she winced exaggeratedly, her manner that of a slightly ditzy teenager. "I'm sorry, I don't speak French!"

The guard rolled his eyes. "Your _suitcase_," he said, his accent thick. "We must examine its contents."

"Oh, do you really have to? My boss will be so mad!"

The guards put their hands on their weapons.

"Okay, okay!" she pretended to relent, and followed them to a nearby security desk. There, another guard, this one a Sergeant, opened the case and whistled at the sight of the weapons, and seemed to relax a bit when he saw that the gun wasn't loaded.

"What are these?" he asked.

"The gun is a... what's the word?" The woman rubbed the back of her head. "A relic?"

"From before the Collapse?"

"Oh yeah! _That's_ what my boss said."

"And the sword?"

"It's art, can't you tell?"

The guard examined the piece of carved ivory, and its blade of black glass. It looked far too fragile, and so he dismissed it as a weapon. The gun, on the other hand... well, it was possible the Louvre liked to put antiques on display, he actually wasn't all that certain, but his instincts told him that wasn't the case.

"It's a delivery," insisted the woman in white. "Somebody paid my boss handsomely for these. Maybe you know the guy? He works here."

"What's his name?"

"Jacques Saunière. Can you bring him here?"

The guards tensed. "We know who he is, we'll deliver these to him ourselves."

"No no no!" The woman in white pretended to panic. "I have to deliver these personally! My boss will kill me if he finds out I didn't see this through the end!"

It was at that point that the Sergeant had more than enough. This was far too suspicious, so he ordered both her and the case of weapons brought to the detention cell while they verified her story with Saunière... which might take a while, since the man was quite absorbed with his work and his personal security — a bunch of men in black — were not the cooperative sort.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The woman in white had to admit she didn't have much of a plan. Still, she knew that talking her way into being brought deeper into the Louvre into an area that would no doubt have a security node would have definitely been a part of it. They didn't even put her in handcuffs or anything, since she looked so fragile and exposed.<p>

They would regret that, soon enough.

On her way to the security station with the holding cell, she heard two SSC guards chatting. Thankfully, they spoke English.

"Say, have you read the latest on Modern Weapons?"

"Nope. Why?"

"They say that this 'mass effect' can be applied on guns."

"Really? How?"

"Makes the bullet lighter or something, so that it goes faster."

"...Wait, that makes no sense! Shouldn't the lower mass mean less punch?"

"I don't know, but according to the article, we could be seeing cheaper railguns within the next five years, and smaller ones within the next ten."

"How small?"

"Pistols, man. _Pistols._"

"...Nice!"

At the security station, in which nine special response SSC agents in full gear were stationed, the woman in white had been scanned, and frisked, and then she had been fondled. Normally she wouldn't mind, but the mission came first, and the guard's arm was easily broken in two.

Things escalated very quickly from there.

Once she had killed everyone inside the security station with her bare hands, she plugged her smart-phone into a security console, and within a minute Worm had disabled much of the security on the level, cameras and alarms included.

_Worm: All of the doors on the first floor are now unlocked. Also, as far as this level is concerned, you were never here._

_Not quite, _she typed in response on her phone._ Hold on._

The sergeant came back with two heavily armed guards, and she killed them too. Her raincoat was covered in blood, and so she had to remove it, revealing her pristine outfit.

_Can you print me an access card, or even a pass? _she typed.

_Worm: I would have to use your biometrics for either, and the way to the high security area upstairs is locked with a retinal scanner and watched over by a pair of guards._

_Nevermind, then, _she typed._ I suppose I'll have to improvise._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Improvising, of course, had involved an explosion, though a really small one. Putting a can of air freshener on an open flame in a trash can had made a very loud bang, which drew away a pair of guards from the stairwell they were blocking. The stairwell to the upper floors of the Richelieu wing led her to a pair of locked sliding doors, with a retinal scanner on their left, as expected. She tore out a panel and plugged her phone into the wires.<p>

_Worm: Whoa...that's some pretty strong ICE_

_Worm: I can unlock this, in like_

_Worm: An hour, at least. Maybe there's another way in? An air vent, maybe?_

_No need_, replied the woman. _Just kill the alarm._

_Worm__: Done. _

_Worm__: But how are you going to open the door?_

She hadn't read the message, as she had already taken out the sword from the case and wedged the blade between the sliding doors, widening the gap far enough to reach in with her fingers and pry them open. It took a little while, as she had to fight the door's hydraulics. Once the gap was wide enough for her to get in, she kicked the case with the gun inside through it, and took a quick step in as the doors shut behind her.

Instead of hallways of marble walls decorated with art, she found herself in an airlock of silver and bronze coloured metals. Scanners, mounted on rails, activated and slid down slowly to scan her. She destroyed them before their light could even touch one of her hairs, and that was when the chamber was flooded with green gas.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Once the light was green, indicating that the neurotoxin had been flushed out, the two guards moved in. They were not SSC: they wore neither uniform nor armour, just two-piece black business suits, ensembles complete with a white shirt, a black tie, and shades. Their skin was a sickly grey.<p>

_"Is she dead?"_ asked the man in black standing behind the thick polarized glass through the intercom

"She's dead," said the woman in black, who checked her pulse. It was as if her throat was made of metal, by the way her voice sounded.

"How did she get in?" asked the man in black who was keeping his .50 handgun pointed at the intruder's head.

_"She forced the door open with her bare hands. She is definitely augmented."_

"One of ours?"

"Not likely," said the woman in black, who wanted to sneer, but couldn't. "She's not that pale, and her clothes are not regulation. And her eyes..."

The woman in black grabbed the girl's face, and looked into her cold, dead blue eyes. Then, they blinked, and became red. There was a flash of light and the woman in black's face met the glass at Mach 1, cracking it.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was hard for the agent manning the security checkpoint to get a clear picture of the situation, as the blood and chips of bone obscured his vision, but judging by the gunfire, grunts, cackling, and screams, it didn't sound very good. Just as he was about to press the alarm button, the polarized glass exploded into a hundred shards as his fellow agent was tossed through it, and the resulting, inevitable impact rendered unconscious for exactly 5 seconds.<p>

When he awoke, he could feel his fellow agent melt over him, and see the woman in white looming over them both with a smart-phone in hand, grinning as she took a picture.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>She stabbed the last man in black in the throat, and called Ursus. His head, topped with short dirty-blonde hair, appeared on the small screen.<p>

_"My Lady?"_

"It's me. I'm in the secure area, and I just encountered a trio of guards. Not SSC. Too strong, too tough, and their skin tone is... well, they're paler than _I_ am. Also, they melted and went up in clouds of toxic gas, so I'm sending pictures."

_"Hold a moment... Hm, interesting."_

"Know who or what these freaks are?"

_"...Did they have metallic voices?"_

"Now that you mention it, they did."

_"Then these are the product of Physiopharmaceutical augmentation."_

"Right, what does that mean in the Queen's English?"

_"It means that they have undergone lengthy chemical treatments to enhance their physical strength and stamina."_

"Not only that, I tried to extract some information out of the last one as he died. He kept repeating a mantra over and over inside his head. It... it kept me out."

_"Conditioning against the Gift, an expensive enhancement treatment, and a built-in self-termination system can only mean one thing: They work for one of your father's enemies."_

"Well, we already knew that they took over this place," she said dismissively, as she loaded her gun.

_"I mean DIRECTLY for your father's enemies. Saunière seems to have gotten their **full** attention. Be discreet, or leave none alive, my lady. If the rest of the Triumvirate discover your existence they'll..." _Ursus became silent, and his face was full of worry.

"They'll what, Ursus?"

_"You are the most powerful non-augmented being on Earth, and strong in the Gift. What exactly do you think they'll do to you if they catch you?" _The implication was clear. She would be imprisoned, experimented on, and then disposed of when no longer of any use.

"Ah, but first, they must _catch_ me. Give me a few minutes while I hunt down these mutants. I need the sport."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The woman in white stalked the Men in Black, and killed them one by one. There had been many of them — maybe fifty in total — patrolling the many halls and sterile chambers of this place. Hiding had been difficult, since the walls were painted white and the lights were bright, but she had an advantage over them all.<p>

She could _see_ them.

Kenway had trained the woman in white in the use of the Sight, so that she could track down her prey and know where to go and when, but one day she understood how much more powerful than Kenway she was when she realized she could see people _behind walls_.

The men in black, while their minds made strange, boring noises, their spirits still shone bright to those with the Gift. It allowed the woman in white to see their nervous and circulatory systems in bright orange spectres of light.

She had made a game out of the many ways this allowed her to kill them. Sometimes she stabbed one through a wall, other times she hanged from an air vent on the ceiling and grabbed them from above and snapped their necks. It was clean, quick, and efficient, and it got boring really quickly. It was the blood of her prey: it was white, and smelled too clean. Synthetic, lacking much of the colour and flavour the woman in white loved.

While she crawled in an air vent, she overheard two people talking, and peered out of the vent below her. The room was filled with papers and scrolls, as well as various pieces of electronic equipment. The two people chatting were wearing white robes, with blue stripes. The colours of the Order. The woman was actually a bit too far away to hear them speak clearly, but their thoughts about what they were about to say came through loudly. Still, she had some trouble filtering echoes from their pasts away: the first time they had their souls 'scanned', their eager pursuit of the higher levels to become part of the Order's clergy...

The indoctrination process, that they thought they had forgotten, but didn't.

She couldn't comprehend much about what they were saying, as she wasn't much of an academic. Something about deciphering a scroll, and figuring out how to activate something called a 'Relay'.

"Can you imagine, sister?" said one of them. "A gateway to the stars!"

"I can, brother," said the other. "A gift from God, truly! I am glad that Saunière has seen the light, and decided to work with us to unlock it."

_Hm... interesting_, thought the woman. She fought off the urge to come out of her hiding place to kill them both, and called Ursus.

_"My lady?"_

"There are two members of the Order here," she said, her tone hushed. "Archaeologists by trade, judging from their thoughts."

_"The Priestess, then?"_

"Hm... I think she might be working with the Merchant on this. The place has got some very fancy and expensive security. The guards have Mako Ballistics handguns, and Worm said their ICE is tough."

_"Troubling. It's one thing for your father to take on one or the other... but both?"_

"Fear not for my father. I'm sure it's all part of his plan. Speaking of which, looks like I'll have to kill Saunière after all."

_"Is that so?"_

"The Order monks said he 'saw the light'. Sounds like cooperation to me."

Ursus snorted. _"I would not take what Order monks claim to be 'cooperation' at face value. The concept of free will is somewhat lost to them." _

"Hm, true enough. Ursus? Have you ever heard of a Relay— or, um, a gateway to the stars?"

_"Are you talking about the new faster than light engines that are being developed?"_

"No, I mean—"

"Do you hear that, brother?" said one of the archaeologists.

"I... I think there's something above us..." said the other.

"Is it rats?"

"Rats don't speak!"

The woman in white stood still, but unfortunately for her the air duct she was in was never rated for a grown person to travel in, and the vent broke under her weight and she fell on her back on a table There were screams, and men in black burst in.

Well, at least things were a bit more exciting, now.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In a large chamber on the fourth floor, in one of the Richelieu wing's towers, there was a squad of Illuminati Elite troopers. Two of them were wearing the original Obsidian power suit, complete with clawed hands and rebreather helmets, and armed with two 7.62mm machine guns and rocket launchers, one on each arm. The rest wore grey uniforms over their body armour, and were armed with the latest in small arms technology: fully automatic gauss rifles loaded with flechettes two millimetres wide, and with scopes linked to their goggles.<p>

All had received the latest in physiopharmaceutical augmentation, based on material collected from JC Denton himself. It made them stronger, faster, and smarter than their predecessors.

"I lost contact with everyone in the lower floors," said the leader.

"Are they dead?"

"Most likely."

"But there's no alarm! The Merovingian said—"

"The Merovingian was wrong!" the leader snapped.

It was then that they all heard something hit the thick, metal double doors hard, and the floor rumbled beneath them. They quickly took firing positions, ready to fire as soon as the doors were breached. They exploded open with a flash of blue light, and the soldiers were confused at the sight before them. Standing in the arch of the broken door was a young woman — easily one of the most beautiful they had ever seen — in a white dress stained in red. With her blade resting on her shoulder, her gun held at her side, she stepped through the doorway, her steps casual and graceful.

"I don't suppose any of you got a napkin?" she asked, licking blood off her lips. "I'm afraid I made a mess of the Order monks that, you know..." she smirked. "...you were _supposed to protect?_"

"Kill the bitch!" the leader barked. "Protect Saunière at all costs!"

Normal men would have hesitated, but Illuminati Elite Troopers' mental conditioning removed all doubt removed from their minds, and there was only the smallest of moments between the order they received and the roar of their guns.

In that tiny moment, however, the woman's eyes flared red and she was surrounded in a burning aura of red light, and the bullets stopped just short of her soft, pale, and very exposed skin.

It was part of the reason she didn't wear armour: when her enemies' bullets failed to perforate and kill a fragile looking girl, their minds became confused, and confusion made way for absolute terror as they realized that all of their power — their guns, their grenades, even their muscles — were completely worthless.

To their credit, the squad of Illuminati Elite did not break immediately, and the two soldiers in the Obsidian power suits fired their rockets at the intruder while the rest of the squad reloaded their guns. It was then that they remembered what fear was, when the rockets froze in mid-air, failing to explode, and slowly turned around. "For me?" the woman gasped in mock surprise. "Oh, you shouldn't have!"

One of the power suits exploded into a hundred pieces, while the other still had the presence of mind to dodge.

"Team one!" barked the leader. "Engage in melee!" On his order, a third of the squad drew their high-frequency machetes and attacked the woman in white.

She laughed, "Oh, that's more like it!" She shot a couple of them in the knees, mostly because it made her laugh a little, and engaged the rest in a sword fight. They were well trained, and far more agile than expected, and not bound by honour to fight like gentlemen — one even managed to grab her by her incredibly long hair! — But the woman in white was far, far better than they were, and far more brutal. In less than a minute she had carved through the lot of them like a cake. The last one, in his Obsidian armour, had been a welcome challenge, with his superior strength and his power claws. The woman had been disappointed when he died, perforated by bullets fired by his comrades, meant for her.

"HEY!" she screamed in frustration. "HE WAS **MINE!**"

They had spread out through the room, intent on drawing this out as long as possible, no doubt hoping to exhaust her. In truth, it was a move that would have worked: her Barrier had limits, and maintaining it too long would have exhausted her.

It would have been simple to simply shoot them, but she simply decided to make a game of simply evading their fire, while getting close enough to slice each of them apart. She disappeared and reappeared all over, teleporting short distances erratically, leaving glowing ripples and red embers behind. Scraps of torn papers and chips of wood flew as bullets impacted and pierced books, scrolls, and tables.

It wasn't long before it was down to the last man: the leader, in fact. He was defiant to the last, neither begging for his life nor asking for quarter. All he had left was his pistol, and he fired her at her head. Laughing with joy, she sidestepped the bullet with the grace of a dancer, and every bullet that followed. The last one, she evaded with a spin, that was quickly followed with a spin kick to the leader's head. A kick so powerful, he was sent to a nearby window.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside, the owner of a food cart thought he heard something hit glass above and behind him. He turned around and looked up at one of the Louvre's towers. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he shrugged, and got back to reading TinTin.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The pale, chemically augmented soldier bounced off the thick, reinforced window. To the woman's surprise, the impact hadn't killed him, though it had certainly crippled him.<p>

"...Who... are... you?" he coughed.

"...The future," said the woman looming over him. "You'll be seeing a lot more like me in the future. Well, YOU won't. Your friends, though...?" She stabbed him in the heart, and as he died she felt the Dark rush into her, and with it came glimpses of memories, though the images were confused. Snapshots of the trooper's training, conditioning and augmentation appeared in her mind suddenly, and vanished quickly. She tried to focus on more recent events to locate Saunière, and as it turned out he was in the next room over. Then, with no prompting from her whatsoever, she received the intense image of a dark figure with glowing eyes, and the woman in white was awoken from her trance.

"The Merovingian... will... kill... you...!" the trooper cursed her with his last breath, and then he dissolved into a cloud of poison gas.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Saunière?" the woman in white called out, her voice echoing in the large chamber. But no answer came.<p>

Saunière's laboratory, a perfect replica of Renaissance architecture filled with furniture and bookcases from the same era, had been arranged into a small museum filled with artifacts brought to him from far and wide across the world. Ever the curator, Saunière had arranged them to tell some sort of story, though the woman could not piece it together. Still, the pieces of art were pretty, and she took the time to look at them.

The first was a painted mural, of all things, cut away by laser from the wall of a temple in Asia. It detailed an impending battle, the two sides snarling at each other over a prize in the middle of the mural — a planet, which looked a lot like Earth.

On the left, was an army of soldiers clad in white and blue armour and ordered into well organized ranks. Angels flew over their side, and behind them there was an idol made of silver.

On the right, there was a mob of warriors clad in various garbs of red and black, and dragons flew over their heads. At the front of that horde there was a man, naked save for a red mask twisted into the shape of flames.

There was an audio recorder nearby, and the woman pressed play.

_"Ceci est la première guerre..."_ said the voice of Saunière.

"Shit," cursed the woman. She called Ursus on her phone, and sent him the audio file for him to translate. The recording said:

_This is the first war. It took place an eternity ago, and has repeated itself in some form or another throughout time and space since the very beginning of time, but **this** is the first, and all wars that came after it paled in comparison. None had as many heroes, none had as many turning points, and none lasted as long. The cause? A disagreement, as always. Over what? The shape of things to come, the manner through which all civilizations should be shaped. Through constant conflict, or perfect obedience._

_Always, do the wars come to a standstill, neither side getting an advantage over the other for long. Always, does it fall upon one person to shift the balance of power between the two. One person, caught in between angels and demons..._

The woman in white squinted, and true to Saunière's word there was indeed a solitary figure standing between the two armies, right under the planet. Honestly she found it all to be a bit silly: what does one life matter against such powers?

She came across the drawing of some kind of pentagram: five blades set around a ring. Saunière had a log on that too, along with notes on the origins of this drawing, apparently, this came from a place called 'Leá Monde', and the name immediately struck a cord with her.

_I thought this was some kind of diagram, but upon closer examination, I noticed that this was in fact a map! This is the place where everything began, and everything will end... only to begin again._

There was something about that map, the configuration... the shape... and she recalled the Lunar Tear her grandfather was cultivating in his garden.

On a table there were paintings and statuettes of dragons and creatures both magnificent and terrifying, and on a separate table there were robots and angels and mighty war machines. For a moment the woman thought this was actually Saunière's collection for some tabletop game. But there was log for those, too.

_The Gaians. The Messians. They are all long dead. And yet, they manage to come back. How?_

_I let myself get caught up in the idea that they were both races, or nations, or religions. Organizations that left artifacts behind for their eventual resurrection... but what if they were born, quite simply, of an IDEA, and that all that was needed for this idea to come about was for the world to stay... exactly as it is? Torn between order and disorder... the benefits of neither, the disadvantages of both..._

_It's no wonder this keeps happening._

She examined the white dragon figurine, and decided to put it in her black legpack strapped to her left thigh before moving on.

There was a set of three paintings of a dark figure reaching out for an altar. One altar was made of bone, and covered in blood, while another was made of steel and bathed in a blue light. The altar between the two looked like it was carved from wood, with green circuitry printed into the bark.

_Red, green or blue. _Saunière laughed._ A man once told me the definition of insanity... it's doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Countless times, someone made the choice, but in the end it was all for naught, and the cycle began anew. _

_They all hoped for a better result._

_They all hoped for a better ending._

_But it will never end._

_"This is quite fascinating, my lady," _said Ursus.

"And kind of ominous," the woman added. "Saunière isn't here, though there's a spiral staircase leading up."

Ursus' reply became broken up by static, and the Smartphone complained about bad reception. _No matter,_ the woman thought._ This mission is almost over, and there are none left here who can stop me._

_**~[h+]~**_

"Saunière?"

She saw him at his desk, his back turned to her, the large window letting the light of a grey sky into the room. He was, interestingly enough, dressed like some French fop, complete with a ridiculous white wig.

"Saunière... my father is so very disappointed in you..." she said in a sing-song voice. She approached him slowly, and made her high heels clatter against the marble floor. The plan formed inside her head: extract the location of the scroll from Saunière, kill him, secure the scroll, and leave.

"Saunière?" She was right behind him, now, and still he wasn't moving. There was a hole in the back of his purple coat, but it couldn't be a wound, as there was no blood.

"Saunière!" Frustrated, she grabbed him by the shoulder, and the Dark showed him his last moments.

He was meditating on scrolls from Leà Monde, trying to decipher the text into English. At the center of the table was a drawing of some kind of machine— a gigantic gyroscope. Every detail, every ounce of knowledge Saunière had gleaned from these texts were on the verge of coming together... moments before he felt something sharp enter his back and burst from his chest.

_There's no blood why is there no blood_

The woman in white gasped and recoiled from Saunière's corpse, and she looked utterly confused at the sight for a moment before she heard someone say: "Please, don't move."

She quickly aimed her pistol at where she heard the sound, and saw nothing save for a red velvet couch.

"Oh, zut!" cursed the voice, and there was a shimmering as a man in a dark blue coat decloaked. He was sitting on the couch, casually leaning back as he held his hands up, forming a picture frame with his fingers. "There was a moment there," he said, his french accent thick, "in your confusion, when you looked so completely lost, and the anger was gone from your face... and the way your hair and your fair skin catch the light from the window... you looked beautiful beyond compare. It is too bad I did not take a picture, yes?"

There was a weapon on his lap, and the woman in white at first thought it was a railgun, since it was built in the boxy, industrial aesthetics favoured by Tokugawa Industries... but there was no pistol grip or even a stock. The man got up, and the weapon retreated into his long coat on its own, making a distinctive, mechanical whirring sound all the while. He adjusted his sunglasses, unbothered by the fact that the woman had a very powerful and very well crafted gun pointed at his head. Despite having his eyes obscured, the woman recognized him immediately.

"The _waiter_."

Alexandre smiled. "Not the most impressive of my names, of which there are many. Would you like to know another?"

The woman's smartphone vibrated, and as she examined her screen a few lines of text appeared and made her blood run cold.

_Worm has changed his name to Merovingian_

_Merovingian: Do you know what your sin is?_

"It's Sloth," he said. Then, he added: "The failure to do something you should have. For example, you really should have left your smartphone's wireless switch off when a stranger approached you."

* * *

><p><em>As the lady in white leaned in close for him to light her cigarette, Alexandre discreetly locked on to her Smartphone's signal and uploaded a trojan without triggering its ICE.<em>

* * *

><p>He clicked his tongue twice, and wagged his finger at her. "If you had done that, I wouldn't have known about your impending attack."<p>

"I don't understand," said the woman, as she made a display of her strength by crushing her compromised phone that left Alexandre unimpressed. "If you had me made, why did you help me?"

"Well, technically, I did not: the SSC had little security set up on the main floor, and I left it on... but you didn't trigger it. As for the alarm at the retinal scanner, well... there was no alarm to disable. The man in the airlock was the security measure, and you got caught."

"That didn't stop me."

"No, it really didn't," he adjusted his sunglasses again. "You know, I actually expected you to ignore your father's advice and assault this place with your friend in full gear. I even warned the SSC to be on the lookout for a woman carrying a machete and a Beowulf pistol and concealing a full suit of armour under her clothes... instead, you come in wearing his lovely, lovely dress and armed with a pair of antiques, and you killed nearly everyone silently." He looked at her, and smiled. "I'm usually very good at reading people, but you're a difficult one to read, aren't you?"

"Or maybe you're just not that competent."

"Perhaps. It's true. If I had been a little better, then I wouldn't have had to kill Saunière. And he was so close to figuring this out..." he withdrew a scroll from his coat, "...I take it you know what this is?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Give it to me," she commanded.

"You'll have to come and take it," he taunted, as he put the scroll back into his coat.

She fired her gun at his head, and was surprised when he moved it out of the way. Before she could fire the second shot, the railgun came out of the coat... only it wasn't a railgun. It was a _scabbard_, and from it he drew a black steel katana with an edge that was a bright, thin ray of blue light. She emptied her gun at him, and he blocked every shot with the flat of his blade.

He swung for her head, and she blocked the blow with her white sabre, its edge of gleaming darkness spitting sparks when it came into contact with the glowing one. Their blades were locked, and they stared daggers at each other.

_**That was the beginning of the end for me. That was the day when my world came crashing down.**_

_**That was the day I met your father.**_

Time slowed down as the light from the outside became obscured, and the woman in white saw a Vulture gunship lower itself into view. It fired its rockets, and time resumed its proper pace when Alexandre shoved her into the window, and it exploded.

**TO BE CONTINUED...**

* * *

><p><em><strong>~[h+]~<strong>_

_**Author's notes: What Romeo and Subject Zero refer to as the Dark is actually the same thing Scholar refers to as Anima.**_

_**No, the Merovingian is NOT a Matrix reference. If you haven't figured out who Alexandre is, then I guess you'll have to wait until the next chapter to know who he is. Still, I left you plenty of clues to figure it out. It's in his names, and his choice of melee weapon.**_


	51. Interlude 3: part 2: Fire and Ice

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Interlude 3: Ice and Fire part 2

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a phone call, and it hadn't been long before close to a hundred officers from the Groupe d'Intervention de la Police Nationale — or GIPN for short — had been deployed to the Louvre to stop a hostage situation in progress in the Richelieu wing, specifically in the tower. The elite paramilitary police force had set itself up around the building, covering every exit with riflemen, snipers, and assault troopers armed with heavy pistols and riot shields. A trio of Vulture gunships had been provided for air support, the hum of their electrogravitic engines reminding everyone of their presence while a full squad of Zenith Wanzers walked into position.<p>

The force was warranted: according to the briefing, the terrorists were carrying a nanomachine bomb. The GIPN lieutenant on the scene doubted such a show of force would dissuade terrorists using such a terrifying weapon, as it could annihilate everything in the area. Thankfully, the civilians had been evacuated.

And then, before any demands could be made, one of the gunships fired a rocket at the building. The Lieutenant's heart stopped for a moment, expecting grey silvery goo to come out of the blast and devour everything in its path. When that didn't happen, he screamed into his headset demanding an explanation for the attack.

The pilot was confused and replied that he had just been ordered to fire. Just as the lieutenant was about to ask by whom, something was shot out of the cloud of smoke at the top of the tower, something invisible and solid that left a trail of dust and ash behind as it landed in front of the Lieutenant. The officer barked at the people under his command to switch their visors to the EM to see what he believed to be a terrorist under cloak, trying to make a getaway.

Almost immediately, something else emerged from the smoke, but it was visible. She wore a white dress bound together by black ribbons, and the Lieutenant found her beautiful, even as she descended upon him, screaming in fury.

She landed on the lieutenant's shoulders, squatted, and the GIPN officer felt something pierce his spine.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The woman in white — Subject Zero — withdrew her blade from the man's back, sending blood splashing onto the riot shield of a nearby soldier. She leapt off the corpse's shoulders, landing amidst a large group of heavily armed men and Wanzers.<p>

Who these men were, she cared not one bit. All she knew was that they bore the same colours as the gunship that had sent a missile her way. She contained her anger just long enough to say one thing:

_**"WHERE IS HE?!"**_

Her eyes flared red, and the soldiers would have obeyed the command had they any clue as to what she was talking about. Instead, once the shock of seeing their commanding officer murdered wore off, their training kicked in.

"Tuez-la!" roared one of the sergeants, and the woman in white cut him in half just as the others began to fire their weapons at her. When it became clear that bullets seemed to avoid her entirely, the ones in riot gear attempted to beat her down by bashing her with their shields.

It didn't work: the woman in white leapt all over and around them, going from shoulder to shoulder, her clothes trailing behind her as she performed her deadly gymnastics. She sliced most of them apart, but friendly fire had claimed quite a few, as well. Only three foot soldiers were left for her to kill.

That was when one of the Wanzers managed to kick her into a nearby wall, and then she got REALLY mad.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There was an unearthly wail, and a couple of explosions, and Ursus knew that his Lady had unleashed herself. Invigorated by the pain of hearing her screams in his mind, the Templar freed himself from his handcuffs and killed the police officers guarding him. The first by head-butt, the second by neck snap, and the third by one single punch. He discreetly made his way back to the van, and recovered his favoured weapon: a bronze coloured power gauntlet that covered the entirety of his right arm.<p>

One of the police Vultures flew overhead, and Ursus immediately aimed his power fist's built-in grapple gun and fired it at the craft's nose. With well practiced acrobatics, Ursus quickly found himself standing over the cockpit. The canopy became as paper under the grasp of Ursus' power fist's fingers, and the protests and screams of the pilot were quickly silenced as the polymer of a helmet and the bone of a skull fared no better. Ursus discarded the corpse and took the pilot's seat. His hands worked quickly at the controls, and he locked on the nearest enemy VTOL attacking his Lady and destroyed it with gunfire and missiles.

The third gunship met its end when metal spears, wrought from the metal of a fallen Wanzer and propelled by Dark Energy, pierced the cockpit and the engines.

"My Lady!" Ursus called to her via his hijacked gunship's speakers, but she was not listening. She had caught the scent of a prey, and nothing would stop her now. Surrounded by red flames, she dashed away with more speed than an hoverbike. Ursus brought his ship to bear and went after her, knowing that she would need his help sooner or later.

He checked the radio: the entirety of the Paris police force had been put on high alert for her, and 'Vautour 3' had been declared hostile. Soon they would be outnumbered a thousand to one, but Ursus knew that his lady would not have it any other way.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Subject Zero chased Alexandre all the way to the Place de la Concorde, tossing every car in her way and occasionally cutting down policemen stupid enough to aim a gun at her. The police vehicles chasing her — Renault Symbole light Wanzers — had managed to catch up to her and slow her down... for about ten seconds before she tossed Singularities at two of them and tore the third's pilot out of his cockpit and bit into his neck with her teeth. Every kill made her feel stronger. Every drop of blood that landed on her skin, every gulp she drank gave her more power, more of the momentum she needed to catch up to <em>him, <em>for_ he_ had become an itch she desperately needed to scratch. No amount of dead cops, or fine food, or wild nights with Ursus would satisfy her, not until Alexandre was dead, dead, _dead_.

And she had managed to come within inches of him, too. She tossed a parked car at him and the hover-bike he stole, but he leapt away just before it landed. She dashed forward at him just as she landed, ready to stab him through the heart.

She was not suspicious in the least that Alexandre simply stood there, and was unprepared when he swept her legs then kicked her into the obelisk at the center of the plaza. The impact caused fractures to snake outward through the monument's stone, but it was a burst of red light, resonating with a scream, that broke the ancient Egyptian artifact apart. Debris rained down on the gathering army of police officers, wanzers, and helicopters that had been called to stop her.

Of course, they would fail.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the she-devil with a sword flew into the obelisk — the impact stunning her long enough for the cops to gather around her — Alexandre vanished into thin air and ran away as far and as fast as he could. He crossed the Seine River, and stopped only when his power ran low.<p>

"Ophelia," he said sub-vocally, as he withdrew a disk. He peeled the adhesive cover away, and stuck it against his chest. "What's the status on Subject Zero?"

Data streamed in front of his sight, and a video stream with the words 'Satellite uplink — LIVE' showed him the woman in question, though from high above and the lens of a scope. _"Subject Zero is still alive,"_ responded the soft, synthetic and disembodied voice of Ophelia, "_though showing some signs of exhaustion."_

"And the police?" Alexandre asked, as he tossed the spent bio-electric cell and it dissolved into flames.

_"The police force I have allocated to her containment have suffered a fatality of rate of 78 percent."_

"It's no surprise. She made short work of our Elite troopers and the GIPN... but I thought the police could bring her down through sheer numbers." It was then that Subject Zero cut the arm off a Wanzer and bashed the cockpit in with the severed arm. "She's barely slowing down..."

_"So far, Subject Zero has demonstrated capabilities well in excess of my predictions on human biotics. I would require tissue samples for a more accurate evaluation of her abilities."_

"She might be more than just a biotic: also a Psionic, I think. She managed to track me down while I was under cloak, without any equipment whatsoever."

_"Very likely. You are, however, currently well past the best possible known range of extra sensory perception as tested by the Imaginary Number project. She will not be able to track you down."_

As soon as Ophelia said this, Subject Zero looked up, as if she could see the satellite spying on her from low-orbit, smiled, and said something. Ophelia zoomed in her lips, and played the footage back to analyze their movement. The words appeared next to the video uplink, in sync with Subject Zero's lips:

I

SEE

YOU

_What the hell...? _thought Alexandre.

_"Alert. Subject Zero is headed for your location. ETA: two minutes, 42 seconds."_

Calmly, Alexandre stepped to the edge of the rooftop, and chuckled. "Well, this little test has exploded well past controllable parameters. Can you keep the situation contained?"

_"It will be difficult: Footage of Subject's Zero's rampage is hitting Oz, which means that there are too many witnesses."_

"Fire a stealth missile loaded with pacification gas, and have it explode above the Louvre. It should help you fabricate a plausible story."

_"Understood. Do you have a plan on how to deal with Subject Zero? Shall I deploy a stealth bomber?"_

"No." _I need to engage her far away from here,_ thought Alexandre, _where there will be few witnesses... and less collateral damage._

Alexandre looked down at the monorail track below him, and he mentally conjured up a map of the French rail system, and the trains due to arrive. He diverted a passenger train away, and had a cargo train accelerate towards his location, and then he waited. When he heard a roar behind him, he jumped from the rooftop, and landed on the back of the speeding train.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Subject Zero gave chase, distorting time and space around her to keep up. It wasn't long before the Maglev reached the countryside, and Subject Zero nearly caught up with the train when it had to slow down to make a sharp turn.<p>

_Not yet_, thought Alexandre as he sliced off a connector and flipped the rearmost wagon, sending it bouncing her way. She bashed it away, but the attack had succeeded in slowing her down for a minute.

When they entered a tunnel, Subject Zero ran up its walls, practically running on the ceiling, and leapt onto the train. She didn't stop to catch her breath, and found Alexandre on an empty flatbed car, just standing there, waiting for her.

She stopped dead in her tracks, a few meters away from him, when he produced the scroll and threatened to destroy it with his lighter.

"It would be a shame to have come this all this way, only to lose your objective to a tiny flame."

Subject Zero narrowed her eyes. "You're bluffing. You want what's in there as much as my father does!"

Alexandre laughed. "True enough! I just wanted you to stop for a moment, to talk." He put the lighter back in his pocket, and stuck the scroll on a van der Waals pad on the small of his back.

"There's nothing to talk about!" shouted Subject Zero. "Give me the scroll, and I will make your death quick and painless!"

"Liar. You enjoy the killing, and the bloodier, the better. And if you don't want to talk, well, you can certainly listen. You've impressed us, Subject Zero! You are much more powerful than any of us ever anticipated... but you're too unstable, and while you're easy to manipulate, you cannot be controlled. And that's why you need to die."

Alexandre took off his coat, almost dramatically, and revealed what he was wearing underneath it.

It was a Tokugawa Heavy Industries prototype hard-suit, with blue plates and a black underlay covering the carbon nanotube musculature. Blue pulses of light streaked across a circuit on the surface of the armour and the bare skin on Alexandre's face. The sword's sheath was attached to the back of a belt via a small mechanical arm, which brought the sabre to an ideal position to be drawn. Alexandre assumed a stance, ready to bring out the high-tech vibroblade. It's non-eutactic solid edge, based on Denton's own Dragon's Tooth sword, glowed blue in the dark.

Subject Zero laughed a bit, and pointed her sword at him. "Is that supposed to frighten me? Is all THAT supposed to frighten me? You've done little except flee! What possible contest can you hope to give me, coward?"

Alexandre drew out his sword, assumed a Kenjutsu stance with a two-handed grip, and stretched his neck, popping it. "Don't you want to find out?" He smiled, and the blue glow of his irises intensified to the point that they could be seen past the darkness of his shades._ "Viens dancer, diablesse!"_

The challenge issued, Subject Zero could not refuse. Red flames surged out of Subject Zero, and the dark energy sent her lunging forward. She was a lance of dark energy, and her sword was the tip. It pierced the car behind Alexandre, but the man himself had already leapt out of the way. She looked up to see him at the apex of his jump, time slowed down, allowing her to see the air around Alexandre distort itself just before the micro-jets fired and he came down with an overhead, vertical slash. The speed at which the sword came down was supersonic, so fast that Subject Zero's own Barriers couldn't have withstood the force.

However, the attack's own speed triggered the shield mounted on the back of Subject Zero's corset, giving her time to biotically push away her opponent.

Alexandre was smashed away into the wall of the tunnel, but recovered with a wall run and a leap back onto the train. He landed on the flatbed, only to find himself immediately put on the defensive, deflecting a flurry of slashes aimed at his body and head. At some point, Subject Zero's weapon struck hard against Alexandre's, sending it flying away to bury itself into the metal floor. Alexandre's his own enhanced strength, however, ensured that Subject Zero found herself weaponless as well. They fought hand to hand for a bit, then tried to use each other's weapons, but neither tool would cooperate. For the woman in white, the imitation dragon's tooth responded with a small blue hologram of the words ID LOCKED over its grip while its blade went silent, and the white bone saber responded to Alexandre's hold on it by becoming unbearably hot to the touch.

The stopped fighting for a moment, as they tossed their respective weapons at each other.

From then on, Alexandre dominated the duel. Subject Zero had power, and talent, but Alexandre had speed and skill. Still, she was very good, and every time her sword came close to his flesh, he felt unnerved, as though he was the prey to a great, hungry beast. There was a moment — a fleeting moment — when he could have sworn that he saw an eye on the side of her saber blink at him.

It was at that moment that Subject Zero clocked him in the jaw.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The biotic punch connected, and Subject Zero felt the satisfaction of hearing something crack. Alexandre was sent reeling, but the expected fall never came. A glint caught her eye, and Subject Zero looked down at her fist to see glinting bits swirl about the glowing red mist surrounding her hand.<p>

_Is that glass?_ she wondered. _Or Ice? No..._ She looked at Alexandre, and half of his face was blackened with a dark sheet of a gleaming material that wasn't quite metal. At the center of that stain was a cluster of crystals that seemed to have grown from the skin, like a rash. When the train cleared the tunnel, the sunshine gave the crystals an unmistakable, rainbow glint.

_Diamonds!_ Subject Zero realized. _Carbon.._. _carbon skin!_ "You're a nano-aug!"

Alexandre said nothing as his face and parts of his armour became covered in diamond armour plates. He sliced his palm, covering the blade with his blood, and before long it was covered in sharp diamond crystals, each resonating at the same high frequency as the sword. Then, he spoke: "Surrender."

"Are you kidding?!" Subject Zero laughed, and the sound became less and less human. **"I'm having WAY too much fun!" **She tossed her sword up, letting an ethereal wail, and as she did so the blood staining both her skin and her dress — the blood of hundreds of men and women she had slaughtered just a few minutes ago — dissolved into a glowing mist that intensified into a burning red aura. She ran forward, and let loose a barrage of biotic claws that reached far and sliced everything in their path. The flatbed car was diced in seconds, and Alexandre was unwilling to see if his defenses could withstand the attack.

So he ran.

He ran, staying just ahead of the storm of warp blades. The train cars, subjected to eddies and waves of dark energy, bounced about, making his tactical retreat towards the engine a difficult task. Subject Zero, meanwhile, had no trouble slicing through the cars that bounced and fell in her way.

Finally, Alexandre made his last stand on top of a fuel tank. Subject Zero, unable to maintain her rampage, leapt up, caught her sword in mid-air with impeccable timing, and engaged Alexandre in a sword fight once more. A few blows were traded, and Subject Zero thought victory was within grasp.

She was disabused of the notion when Alexandre sliced her right eye out.

The shock of the wound dissolved her sense of invulnerability, and she gasped as her exhaustion finally took hold of her. She fell forward on her knees, planting her sword into the tank to not fall over completely. Darkness surrounded her as they entered another tunnel. The only illumination was the occasional passing OLED tube.

Alexandre didn't finish her off immediately, and instead casually walked away from her as he ran his finger across his crystalline blade, taking the eye skewered at the tip. "How did I beat you?"

Subject Zero spat as she tried to stop the blood pouring out of her open socket with her bare hand.

Alexandre snorted. "It's simple. Your swings are powerful, but wild, and without purpose save for trying to damage me. The Templars trained you well, but they failed to instill in you a sense of discipline, of _focus_. They failed to teach you how to make your weapon a part of yourself... It's a shame, if they had, we might be having a much more pleasant conversation. _Hélas.._."

Subject Zero reached deep in her last reserves of hatred, taking out her sword from the tank and igniting the flammable liquid by striking a rail, creating sparks. Flaming sword in hand, she swung thrice at Alexandre, who dodged the swings easily. The third swing created a wall of flames that obscured his vision, and Subject Zero saw her chance to behead him. She dashed forward, sword raised, and then diamond shards emerged from the flames, a few of them burying themselves in her open, bleeding eye socket. She stumbled from the pain, but kept moving forward.

The flames cleared, and she saw Alexandre just standing there, ready to draw. Time slow down when she heard the familiar whine of a railgun charging, and she realized that the sound was coming from the scabbard.

Lighting cracked when 2 megajoules of energy was channelled in the rails, sending the sword flying out of its scabbard at lighting fast speed. Alexandre caught the sword by its grip as it emerged halfway, and guided the speeding blade towards Subject Zero's sword arm. Her Barriers and shields yielded, and her left limb was severed at the bicep. The sword flew off, planting itself in the back of the tanker car, but the severed arm that was holding it fell on the ground.

"Like I said." Alexandre stared down at her fallen, exhausted form as he sheathed his sword "_Focus._"

He produced a LAM from his suit, and dropped it. Its adhesive side stuck on the fuel tank. The train exited the tunnel, and the roar of an approaching tilt-rotor transport could be heard.

"Come back here," groaned Subject Zero as Alexandre walked away from her. He had to admit, he admired her willpower. It's what had made the recent fight all the more exciting — the best he's had in decades. Alas, business came before pleasure, and such a powerful creature shouldn't be allowed to exist. There was an _order_ to things, and it was Alexandre's job to maintain it.

"Come back here...!" she coughed, but Alexandre was already 2 cars away, about to grab a rope lift leading up to the flying transport that would take him out of here. Subject Zero crawled, exhausted, towards the beeping LAM, but it was no use: she hadn't been trained in demolitions, and would not have been able to switch it off even if she managed to reach it.

The Jetstream's element zero cores flared to life and distorted the air when the tank exploded, and the blast wave simply flowed around Alexandre. The fire, he was certain, would leave no trace of the Subject Zero.

_"Warning,"_ said Ophelia's voice in his head. _"Incoming hostile craft. It is the Templar."_

"Qu'est-ce que...?" Alexandre was interrupted by the roar of a .50 caliber machine gun spitting steel rounds into his transport's hull. As it caught fire and the piloting AI lost control, Alexandre jumped off back onto the train. His attacker, a damaged Vulture gunship, came back around for a strafing run.

Alexandre evaded the gunfire, occasionlly deflecting a few bullets, before he set his Jetstream on overdrive and propelled himself towards the Vulture's cockpit, sword raised, ready to cut the pilot apart. He was surprised, then, when he felt a grappling cord attach itself to his chest, and pull him towards the waiting, powered, armoured fist of a very large, bespectacled man.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ursus' powered fist headed straight for his attacker's jaw, where it met not skin and bone but carbon and diamond. Some of the kinetic energy transferred to the brain, stunning the man long enough for Ursus to grapple him and execute a four story high pile driver that came to a sudden stop on top of a cargo car. The roof gave way, and the two men struggled inside while the Vulture gunship crashed into a nearby hill. The fight lasted until Alexandre tossed Ursus out onto a flatbed. He emerged from the resulting hole, feeling a bit sore.<p>

"This mission is starting to annoy me," he said, as he stretched his neck, popping it. His weapon lost, he subvocally commanded it self-destruct. The technology behind it couldn't be discovered...

"Where is my Lady?!" screamed Ursus.

Alexandre merely nodded towards the blazing inferno behind him. "If you're quick enough you might be able to recover her bones, but..." he had not the time to finish his sentence when Ursus emptied both barrels of a sawed-off shotgun loaded with tungsten flechettes into his chest. The Jetstream took the blast, but its power reserves had been spent. Alexandre tried to reply in kind with his own handgun, only to find a cargo box tossed his way, blocking his shot. He slapped the crate away, only to reveal Ursus, ready to tackle him down.

While there was no denying that Alexandre was superior in both strength and speed, giving him the advantage in a fistfight, Ursus was heavier, larger, and more than strong enough to effortlessly lift up a man, giving him the advantage in a wrestling match. Alexandre still managed to put Ursus in a painful submission hold, pushing against the back of the large man's shoulder while twisting the wrist. Ursus wasn't really bothered, and in fact enjoyed the pain greatly. At first Alexandre's hold was ironclad, and he was intent on snapping Ursus' arm off when the worst possible thing happened. Two words appeared, blinking, on his AR display:

—LOW POWER—

And then the fight took a turn for the worse for him, as his strength left him. Ursus was a man practically fueled by pain, and Alexandre's attempts to get him to back down, from elegant nerve strikes to the cheapest kick to the groin seemed to make the large templar stronger. Ursus had Alexandre on his back, and he attempted to finish him with an elbow drop. Alexandre kicked Ursus in the side, just as he was about to land. It should have sent the Templar off the train to his death, but quick thinking and a grappling gun saved the man's life.

Still, Alexandre now had breathing room, and he quickly pulled a maintenance panel off of the flatbed car and reached into the cables, drawing power into himself via a built-in recharging system built into the suit's gloves.

And then the car behind him exploded in a burst of red light. He turned around to see none other than Subject Zero shambling towards him while an inferno fed by raw petrol raged. Her clothes had burned off and she was covered in both soot and dried blood, but she was very much alive, her skin unburnt.

_Oh mon dieu,_ thought Alexandre, _what the hell is she?..._

"Fire..." she said, as an aura of Dark Energy gathered around her. She held out her hand, and a small dark sphere appeared in front of it. Alexandre was surprised when Ursus grabbed him from behind, taking him into a tight chokehold.

"Fire?!" She roared, and the sphere drew in flames from the burning wreck, compressing them into a single dot of bright orange light inside. "AGAINST ME?!"

"Let me go!" Alexandre shouted as he struggled against Ursus' hold on him. "She'll kill us all!"

"If my lady wishes me to burn," Ursus shouted back, "then so be it!"

The back of Alexandre's head met with Ursus' jaw, stunning the man long enough for Alexandre to break free and kick him away. Subject Zero tossed the dark sphere at him, and just as he was about to leap away, Alexandre felt he was a little lighter.

The scroll was gone, and he turned around to see it in the hands of Ursus, who had grappled onto a sign post and was getting more distant by the second...

"Fils de pute..." he cursed under his breath just as his face was covered in diamond armour, and the dark sphere exploded in front of him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The blast melted the cars in the kill radius, and sent the rest flying, so much so that even the engine at the front — 15 cars away — was thrown off the rail.<p>

Ursus approached the wrecks, worried out of his mind that he had abandoned his lady to her death.

_**Get away, you fucking idiot. **_The words, with her voice, had resounded in his head just before the man in the blue armour broke free, and Ursus had the presence of mind to grab the prize before he obeyed his Lady's command.

"My Lady!" he called out, his voice betraying both worry and despair.

"MY LADY!" he called out again, as he sifted through some wreckage, hot to the touch, not caring one bit about the blisters on his bare hand.

"Ursus," he heard someone groan. "Help me..."

"My Lady..." he muttered, as he found her ruined form under a slagged train car. He lifted the wreck off of her, and paled when he saw how terribly hurt she was. "You're hurt..."

"Tell me something I don't... argh... fucking know already!" she gritted her teeth. "Alexandre... the man I fought... where is he?"

"Dead, most likely, my lady," he lifted her up in a bridal carry. "No matter, we must leave."

Rescue vehicles eventually arrived to investigate the wreck, and Ursus bluffed his way into an ambulance. By the time his deception became clear, Ursus and Subject Zero were half-way to Bordeaux when the Templar had to neutralize the pilot. He tended to her wounds as best he could in a rundown apartment in the slums, and it would take days before he could arrange a flight back to the Hand of Baphomet, away from the prying eyes of Ophelia.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Night had fallen, and recovery crews were busy sifting through the wreck, looking for anything salvageable, while tagging large wrecks for the Wanzers to pick up.<p>

One among the crew, Robert, found a corpse, burnt to a crisp under a flatbed car. "Putain!" he exclaimed. "C'est pas une belle façon de mourir, ça..." he was just about to call his friends over, when he noticed bits of glass around the scene, and for a second he though he had hit the mother lode...

...Just before the corpse's eyes opened wide, and wrapped its hand around Robert's mouth. Red lines crawled over the man's skin, as billions of disassembler nanomachines got to work on breaking down his very cells as raw materials, slowly melting him into a red paste. The pain receptors had been the first to go, and Robert's screams were muffled... but brief, as the sensation of melting down became slightly pleasant — like taking a warm bath — once the nerves were broken down. Conduits in the corpse's arm drained the fluid, providing another billion assembler nanomachines the necessary materials to repair their host body.

_"Arise... Alex Denton,"_ said Ophelia.

Alexandre rose from the wreck, as good as new, though his Jetstream hard-suit was ruined. No matter. Tokugawa would provide him with another.

_Well that was interesting,_ he thought, as he vanished into the night, reflecting on the previous fight.

"Robert?" called the rest of the recovery crew. They never knew, nor would they ever know, what happened to their friend and co-worker.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Templar orbital shipyard, Ganymede orbit, 1 month later...<strong>_

Romeo Guildenstern stood tall, wearing regal dark armour, on what would become the cathedral deck of the Hand of Baphomet. The ship's external appearance was inspired by Gothic architecture, complete with pylons styled after flying buttresses. This planned space of worship was no different, and it had metal arches that met at an angle to the ceiling, framing spaces reserved for stained glass mosaic windows. The leader of the Crimson blades was looking out of one those spaces, into the starry blackness and the vast horizon of the gas giant, watching intently as the shuttle came in for a landing.

The hand of Baphomet, named so for its 5 main guns, was going to be the greatest warship ever built — a 2.5 kilometer long super-carrier, based on the Dreadnought projects started by the Coalition and the United North American States. Thanks to Templar research into Mass Effect technology, the Hand would be greater and more powerful than any other of its class. Construction should have taken mere months after the recovery of one Majestic-12's Antaeus Cruisers, but acquiring the raw materials and getting them to this remote part of space without raising any suspicions had proven very difficult. For example, it would be another 10 years before the amount of Zeroth necessary to built the drive core could be gathered. That is, once the Zeroth mining industry got into full swing.

At least there was enough to get the artificial gravity functional.

Until then, the supernations of Earth would field their own lesser versions of the class of warship. It was for the best, really: If the Templars unveiled the Hand before anyone else, they would quickly become a target of every major military organization.

Patience. That was what was required of him in the times to come, if he was to take its rightful place within the Illuminati.

_No, _he thought._ My rightful place in the **world**._

The door hissed open behind him. "Put me down," he heard her say, and footsteps — the unmistakable sound of high heels hitting metal — slowly approached.

"Father..." said Subject Zero. Romeo turned around and saw that his daughter was bandaged up, and missing an arm... and reeked of chemical cleanser. He was offended that she had not seen to making herself presentable, but kept his anger in check. "You're hurt," he said, faking worry.

"I'll be fine!" she pleaded. "Here, I have something for you..." She produced the scroll from her leg pack, and gave it to the man she called father.

Romeo inspected it intently. "It's damaged," he said, finally, still reading it.

"I nearly failed you, father. A great foe stood in my way, and tried to keep the prize from me. But in the end, it was for naught."

"Is that so? And this great enemy, is he dead?"

"Of course he is! You trained me well, and I saw to it that he was consumed by both flame and dark power!"

"Really?" replied Romeo, his tone unbelieving. "Look outside."

Subject Zero walked past her father and looked out, and she could see the silhouette of a sleek, black shuttle approaching the ship. "Whose ship is that?"

Romeo put his hand on her shoulder. "It belongs to the man you were supposed to kill!"

Subject Zero gasped and screamed when the rapier came out of her chest.

"He followed you here!" said Romeo as he pushed her off his blade and she fell on the ground. "Now I have to clean up the mess _you_ made, _daughter._"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Sitting alone at a holographic emitter on the Hand's main bridge, Romeo watched and listened as Alexandre sliced and hacked his way throughout the ship, killing Templar soldiers and workers alike. The lack of gravity in the unfinished decks didn't seem to slow him down at all...<p>

_"Where is he?! Where the hell is he?!"_

_"The bots! They're attacking us!"_

_"Oh God — Walter! He's CONSUMING HIM!"_

_"Help me! HELP ME!"_

After an hour of gunfire and screaming, all was silent, and then Romeo heard the familiar hum of a high-frequency blade close to his ear.

"Where is she?" said Alexandre, from behind Romeo.

Romeo smirked. "Why, Alexandre, you came all this way just for a woman? I didn't think you were the type."

The hum got closer.

"She is recovering from the wounds you inflicted upon her," said Romeo, calmly.

"In the sealed area on deck 2."

"Exactly."

"...You have much to answer for, Romeo Guildenstern. When you asked me to test your daughter to become an Operative, you failed to mention that she was a Biotic."

"She's a mite stronger than on paper, I will admit. She didn't give you TOO much trouble, did she?"

Just then, screens appeared above the holo-emitter, news articles and streams of a disaster in the heart of Paris. All lies, of course, concocted by Ophelia, but the damage caused by a 'terrorist attack' was all too real.

"What do _you_ think?" said Alexandre.

"I think you're getting outdated, Alexandre. All this collateral damage..." Romeo clicked his tongue thrice, in disapproval. "The rest of the Triumvirate must agree with me, otherwise..." he swivelled his chair around, facing the nano-augmented agent. "They would have bid you to kill me. Oh? Whatever happened to that fancy new suit and sword of yours?"

Alexandre glared at Romeo from behind his new shade for a long moment, then sheathed his sword. "The Merchant and the Priestess have called for a meeting on neutral ground, yes. As I've said, you have much to answer for, Romeo. And these answers will determine whether or not I shall continue working with you, or become your executioner."

The Templar ignored the threat. "And where is this meeting supposed to take place?"

Alexandre smiled, and held out his hands.

Romeo frowned. "Aboard my ship?"

"Technically this ship doesn't even exist, and it is dry-docked to an area that nobody knows about. It's perfect, wouldn't you agree? Oh, and I'm certain the Merchant would like to know where the resources to make such a huge vessel came from." Alexandre turned around, and walked away. "They'll be here within the month. Take the time to think about what you'll tell them, Guildenstern. I'm curious to see what you'll come up with."

Romeo stood up, the scroll in his hand. "Don't you want the scroll back?" he asked, disingenuously

Alexandre looked back and smirked. "Keep it..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>1 month ago, Paris.<strong>_

_Alexandre slowed his hoverbike down and handed the scroll to another agent, and ordered him to leave the city immediately._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>As the train entered a tunnel, The nanomachines crawled around and within the block of wood Alexandre had picked up from a cargo car. Subject Zero ran up the tunnel's walls, practically running on the ceiling, and leapt onto the train.<em>

_She stopped dead in her tracks, a few meters away from him, when he produced the block of wood — now a scroll with an imitation of the original's content — and threatened to destroy it with his lighter._

_And inside the spine..._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong><em>1 month later, Hand of Baphomet.<em>**

"...It's a fake," and as he said so the scroll in Romeo's hand crumbled to dust, to reveal a tracker. Alexandre left the leader of the Crimson Blade to ponder the implications of this in the dark, while two Hashmallim mechs under Alexandre's control watched over him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Subject Zero floated in the empty halls of her father's ship, The red globes had come and gone, cleansing the entire ship of all that once lived, and all was silent...except that the metal walls whispered to her in the voices of the recently dead. She was oddly accepting of this, and figured that she was dreaming.<p>

One minute she was in the engine room, and felt disquiet at the spot where the heart of a dead god should have been. The next, she was in the mess hall, and on the one after that she was outside. Her body felt like wind, and her hair was moonlight. She wondered how long before she would wake, and as she did so an indeterminable moment of time passed her by.

At least until she saw a grey skinned creature beckoning her. It was naked and skinny, its mouthless head was oval, and its eyes were huge and almond-shaped and completely glossy black like petroleum.

_over here _

Its whisper was loudest, drowning out all other voices stuck in the walls. Subject Zero followed the creature.

_over here_

She followed him to a sealed chamber, at the center of which was a glass tube filled with an glowing orange liquid, surrounded by machines. Inside the tube was a beautiful young woman with white hair, and it took a moment for Subject Zero to realize that this was, in fact, her body.

And sitting next to that tube, reading an old book, was HIM, and red light burst out of her she had wanted to claw his face out and punch him and kick him and scream at him and fuck him and kiss him—

LOOK AT ME, she screamed, as she tried to slap the book away. Her fingers made of air passed through it and she felt Alexandre's story — emerging from a crashed plane in the French wilderness, an innocent mind stuck inside a manufactured body, suffering through the decades of sorrow, pain and death of the Collapse. Through it all, there had been one constant: That book, that precious little book called _Le Petit Prince, _that he had found in the ruins of a book store, and the only one that survived the fire.

_The book was gone, replaced by the bruised and battered corpse of a little black girl. Chunks of her were missing, the work of cannibals. Alexandre looked up, stared at Subject Zero, and said, with his voice trembling: _

_"This is not how the world should be."_

_And Subject Zero wanted to cry._

Alexandre looked up, and saw no one. He checked his internal clock, sighed, and left.

_follow_

Subject Zero and the grey creature followed Alexandre up to the Cathedral deck, where several people were gathering.

_look_

In the center of the vast chamber there was a table, and seated at it were two delegations. One was composed of a black man in a fine business suit flanked by two robots. His head was money, and meat, and pulses of electricity coursing through an infinite maze of highways. The other was composed woman clad in a blue and white robe, guarded by four priests. Each one was clad in a different colour — gold, jade, red and blue — but wore the same ivory mask. No matter how hard she tried to focus, Subject Zero could not make out the woman's face.

Seated in front of them was her father, her beloved father.

_listen_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Do you know why we are here?" asked the Merchant, almost as if scolding a child.<p>

"The Paris incident," replied Romeo, coolly. "You're holding me responsible."

"Seeing as the evidence gathered by the Merovingian..." the Priestess' head turned to Alexandre, "...points to you as the master of this 'Subject Zero', can you think of anyone else we can hold responsible?"

"Somebody else to take responsibility for the millions of credits in property damage," continued the Merchant, "and the resources we had to spend covering up Templar involvement in the whole incident?"

"Well, I could point my finger at the Merovingian," said Romeo. "He agreed to put her to the test, and if he hadn't led her on a merry chase across all of Paris and the French countryside the situation could have been contained within the Louvre. Thousands of people to indoctrinate..." he glanced at the Priestess. "Rather than tens of thousands." Left unsaid was the implication that were it not for the incident, the Priestess would not have had the opportunity to expand her sphere of influence.

The Priestess, however, was glad he brought the subject of the Louvre up. "And what was your agent doing at the Louvre?"

"As I said, the Merovingian was testing her."

"Is that true?" the Priestess asked the Merovingian.

"It is and it isn't. The Knight contacted me to declare his intention to assassinate Saunière, as he had been remiss in his obligations to the Templars. Normally I would have denied him, but this coincided with your own order to sanitize Saunière's laboratory. We then broached the matter of the assassin, and her candidacy as an Operative."

The Merchant sighed. "I see... well, you _could_ have just tested her in a more official capacity, in a controlled environment."

"I could have, but I value efficiency, and authenticity. In any case, the Knight did not tell me the whole truth..." Alexandre's tone became more accusatory. "Subject Zero's real goal was acquiring the Scroll. Saunière's death was a secondary objective."

"And thus, both of you risked a valuable ancient artifact?" accused the Priestess.

"The scroll is worthless," revealed Romeo, glancing at the Merovingian for a second. "Your own research proved it."

The Priestess gave him an appraising look. "...And how do you know this?"

"I happen to have quite an interest in archaeology, especially when the Ancients are concerned. I could tell immediately that the scroll wouldn't tell us anything we didn't already know about the Rail inside Pluto. Do you deny this? _Or was the Merovingian going to sanitize the site for no reason at all?_"

"Then why were you so interested in acquiring it?" accused the Merovingian.

"It is my duty as Knight to guard relics of the ancients, is it not?" countered Romeo. "Might as well take it and seal it away, while I was at it."

"There is a proper procedure to your tasks, Knight." The Priestess tented her fingers. "You would do well to remember that."

"And that does not excuse the exposure," added the Merchant. "Merovingian? Is there a particular reason why the entire police force of Paris had to get involved?"

"I was following standard Illuminati procedure in public operations," stated Alexandre. "We touch nothing directly. As far as the public was involved, the police would have brought low a terrorist. The Knight did not share with me an accurate summary of her capabilities, however, and now thousands of police officers are dead."

"Hence the disaster we had to clean up."

"I don't see what the problem is..." said Romeo, almost coyly. "I hear the SSC, Manticore and World Marshall are being called upon by the European government to provide fresh bodies for the... _thousands_ Subject Zero killed?" He leaned back into his chair. "Aren't those companies affiliated with the WTO? I forget..."

"...The police's inability to contain a terrorist attack has allowed us to make headway in privatizing Europe's police, it is true."

"And now you understand why I did what I did." said Romeo. "Why I ensured that the test would become a disaster... as there's nothing better to set the economy in motion, or make the sheep flock to the shepherd...and really, Merchant," continued Romeo. "You of all people should appreciate the benefits of a publicity stunt."

"Publicity for what, exactly?"

Romeo took a deep breath, and rose from his chair. "I've studied the Ozymandias scenario. There are too many ways it can go wrong. Humanity needs... a boost in power, to face what is to come. This ship?" Romeo held out his arms, across the room within the Hand of Baphomet. "Is meant to counter Hudson's monster should it go out of control. But on a more, shall we say... personal scale? Humanity needs a new kind of soldier... one as powerful as our friend here."

Alexandre glared at Romeo as the Templar conjured up holograms of the fight between the calm nano-augmented agent and the furious biotic woman, surveillance footage from the data cores of surveillance drones and satellites.

"Subject Zero is coming up a bit short," laughed the Merchant. "Is that supposed to impress us, Romeo? Is she supposed to be the prototype for this new soldier? The Merovingian is toying with her, even I can tell as much!"

"Keep watching," said Romeo. Eventually the footage came to the last few minutes of the fight, and Alexandre was engaged by a large man using a power fist.

"Who is this?" asked the Priestess.

"I have no idea," answered Romeo. "But Subject Zero always had a knack for attracting gifted individuals." The footage showed Alexandre drawing power from the train car. "Oh, feeling a bit _drained_, Merovingian?"

Alexandre said nothing as the Triumvirate saw him losing the scroll and promptly get swallowed up by an impressive fireball, courtesy of Subject Zero. The Merchant and the Priestess considered what they had just seen. In the end, Subject Zero had gotten the best out of the Merovingian in a fight. The Merovingian, who was easily the most powerful human being alive, since JC Denton's death...

"Alright, Subject Zero _is_ quite impressive," admitted the Merchant. "TOO impressive. You would have an _army_ of those running around Sol?"

"And which nation should that army be loyal to?" asked the Priestess. "We've established a balance between them, and an army of biotics would tip the scales."

"Assuming you can even produce biotics on a large enough scale, of course," said the Merchant.

"All fair points," said Romeo. "You have heard about the Systems Alliance, yes?"

"We've heard talks about founding it, yes." said the Merchant. "Personally, I want to strangle it in the crib. That level of cooperation makes me uncomfortable."

"I don't think we'll need to bother," said the Priestess. "Such an initiative would require the supernations to share military resources they would much rather keep."

"I say we allow it to flourish," suggested Romeo. "Better yet, I say we take control of this Alliance, and give the methods of creating biotics to it. As you've said, the supernations won't donate their best military assets. If the Alliance is to be considered a political power, then it will need biotics as its own advantage."

"And why, pray tell, should we allow this Alliance to flourish?" asked the Merchant.

"Because the sphere of humanity is about to expand beyond Sol," said Romeo. "Already there are planned expeditions to Proxima and Alpha Centauri, and we won't be able to stop them... not since JC Denton let the cat out of the bag."

The proverbial cat, of course, was mass effect technology. Days before his death, JC Denton had leaked data that lead prospectors on Mars to discover a vein of element zero. The Illuminati couldn't stop the experiments in time, and before long news of its properties spread all across Oz. Then, to make matters even worse, the Ancient's Archives on Mars were found. The Illuminati acted quickly, and took control of the site, but could not keep it a secret. Thus, they manipulated the UNAS, the OCU, Europe, and the Coalition to have an equal share of the secrets that could be gleaned from the relics, to ensure that the balance would be maintained.

Unfortunately, that meant that soon, humanity would become too large to control. The Triumvirate could easily imagine Denton laughing at them.

Romeo always wondered why Denton didn't simply reveal the existence of the Ancient's cache on Luna.

"Not to mention our hold on Mars is slipping," continued Romeo, "and on Venus it is nearly non-existent. An international space force, with the task of spearheading these exploration and colonization efforts — firmly under our control — will allow us to spread our influence alongside Earth's... and of course, act as a first defence against the aliens."

"The aliens won't be a problem," said the Priestess, "as long as the Rail remains closed... which, thankfully, it will stay for a long time until someone figures out the key. As you know... that's not bound to happen any time soon."

"Are you willing to risk all of our plans, all of our work, for humanity's future on the notion that an alien civilization may or may not be right next door?"

The Priestess had to admit, the Knight had a point.

"Assuming we encourage this Alliance," said the Merchant, "again, I fail to see how they can produce an army of biotics. The prospect of the children under the care of the World Health Organization aren't good. Most will die within the year."

Romeo smiled, and produced a vial of red liquid from his armour, and set it on the table. "And quite horribly... unless you give them this."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>This is my blood, <em>knew Subject Zero as she saw the liquid. Her father made sounds explaining something about a gene therapy and success rates, about flukes and miracles, while the shadow of a doubt swam in Subject Zero's mind. Had she always been just an experiment?

_No! My father loves me! It's all part of a plan, you'll see! You'll see!_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I can tell you've put a lot of thought into this..." said the Priestess.<p>

"Thank you," replied Romeo.

"...Except as to how to keep them under control," she finished. "Part of the reason why the Merovingian couldn't keep the damage to a minimum was because Subject Zero had gone berserk."

"I have to admit, my hold on her is a bit tenuous, but I have no doubt you can indoctrinate the biotics..." Romeo turned to the Merchant. "Or perhaps use control chips?"

"And how did you manage to control her for so long?"

"I've kept her hungry for my affections."

Alexandre frowned, "...Your own daughter."

"Adopted," Romeo's tone was cold, and unfeeling.

* * *

><p><em>...What?<em>

* * *

><p>"Liar," said Alexandre flatly. "I've had her severed arm recovered. Her DNA is a partial match for yours."<p>

Romeo held Alexander's gaze for a second. Then: "Alright, yes, some of my genes made their way in the _vat_ that was used to create her. That hardly makes her my child, unless there's been a major shift in ethics concerning clones?"

"...Is that where she gets her psionic abilities from?"

That managed to break the Priestess' calm demeanour. "What?!"

"Subject Zero," Alexandre began to explain, "managed to track me down without any technological assistance from several _kilometres_ away. I took the time to examine her down on the medical deck: she has no electronic augmentation whatsoever."

"Is that true?!" asked the Priestess, furious. All psionics were to be put under her care, and Romeo had kept — assuming the Merovingian wasn't exaggerating— the most powerful one ever as a pet, and right under her nose, too.

But Romeo was utterly, completely calm in the face of her anger. "If she is, she never shared this with me, and before you ask... you already tested me. My Psi Rating is extremely low." He scratched his beard. "Then again, I am _not_ a biotic, so..."

Romeo let the implications sink in. He didn't have to say much more: JC Denton himself theorized — with the help of the data in the Luna ruins — that Element Zero could enhance psionics by unknown factors. The Lunarians, in their foolishness, used the handful of Zeroth located there to build their Endymion fighters, so there would be no confirming the theory... until now.

Soon the whole world might have the Gift, and then there would be no more hiding...

"We must consider what you've told us," said the Merchant. "I say we put this meeting on hold for now and—"

The Priestess interrupted him. "Hold a moment! There is one issue we MUST get out of the way, and immediately."

"And that is?" asked the Merchant.

The Priestess turned to Romeo, eyes narrowed. "If Subject Zero truly has the Gift and it has been enhanced by the element zero in her body, then it is my right and duty to take custody of her and have her thoroughly examined by the Phantom Society."

Alexandre smirked at the Templar. "This won't be a problem, will it?"

* * *

><p><em>No...<em>

* * *

><p>"By all means, take her away," replied Romeo without any hesitation.<p>

* * *

><p><em>No!<em>

* * *

><p>"The <em>mutant<em> is no longer of any use to me."

* * *

><p><em><strong>NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO<strong>_

* * *

><p>The four robes surrounding the Priestess spoke in unison. "We are being watched."<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In her tank, Subject Zero wept, but the tears simply mixed into the solution. Outside, Illuminati Elite Troopers saw her moving, and increased the dosage of relaxant being pumped into her veins. Then, all became dark...<p>

...

...And in that darkness, appeared twelve Greys, surrounding Subject Zero's floating, glowing form.

_listen_

"Go away!" she cried. "I don't want to hear any more!"

_look_

The Greys hummed a song, and a great eye made of light, surrounded by a web of glowing lines, appeared before Subject Zero.

It was the size of a planet.

"Ah, Jacqueline." said the Eye. "You... are a very difficult individual to reach. How are the Outer Planets this time of the year?"

"You..." Subject Zero's eyes were wide at the sight. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The Eye suddenly approached her, and threatened to overwhelm her before shrinking down to the size of a cricket ball. It hovered, a few inches from her face. "Those are very important questions," it said, as it floated away and around her. "But neither is relevant to your situation. I think the question we should ask ourselves first is... _what can you do_, Jacqueline?"

"Why do you call me that?" she asked, frustrated.

"Isn't that what your grandfather called you?"

"...Yes, yes, it is! I... I forgot. Oh God, why did I forget?"

"...There are places in the OCU dedicated to the raising of clones for the eventual harvest of their organs," said the Eye. "They grow up in a sterile environment, raised by cold people and machines that use a vocabulary meant to devalue them as real living people, and the first step in doing so is to deny them a proper name. Only a noun... and a number. Does that sound familiar?"

"My father... my father refused to give me a name until I earned one."

"I think you deserve a name. Your grandfather certainly thought so. I can call you Zero, if you like."

"...Don't call me anything."

"As you wish... but I ask again: What can you do?"

"I can do nothing! Nothing at all! I am trapped inside my own body!"

"...Well, I was hoping for a more interesting answer from you. But I'm feeling charitable today, and I think I'll tell you what you can do."

Subject Zero said nothing.

"You can _break free_," said the Eye. "You can _take revenge."_

Revenge. The word alone piqued Subject Zero's interest.

Do you know what the Triumvirate fears most of all?"

"...Losing control."

"Yes, very good. And right now, thanks to the discovery of Element Zero, Humanity is on the edge of a new age of discovery. Soon, cheap colonization of the outer planets will be possible, and Humanity will grow, and the Illuminati won't be able to keep it all under their thumb."

"They already have a plan for that."

"Is that so? And that plan hinges on what?"

"...The Rail. It's supposed to stay closed."

"Yes. The Rail." Images from Subject Zero's recent memory appeared: drawings, from Saunière's lab. Of particular interest to the Eye was one of a giant tuning fork with a gyroscope in the center. "If it's activated, and discovered by non-Illuminati, then Humanity will be CATAPULTED to the stars. Thousands of new worlds will be within its reach, and within less than a century new nations will rise. Yes. A new beginning."

"Worlds beyond their reach..."

"Yes."

"...It's pointless. Saunière's research was going nowhere. Nobody can activate the Rail."

"..._You_ can."

"What?"

"Do you know what Psychometry is? It is the psychic ability to 'read' information from objects. Like from a tool, or... say, from a corpse?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Saunière!" Frustrated, she grabbed him by the shoulder, and the Dark showed him his last moments.<em>

_He was meditating on scrolls from Leà Monde, trying to decipher the text into English. At the center of the table was a drawing of some kind of machine— a gigantic gyroscope. Every detail, every ounce of knowledge Saunière had gleaned from these texts were on the verge of coming together..._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"...I... I can do that?" said Subject Zero, and she knew that it was true. "I saw things when I touched his body. Yes... He was SO close."<p>

"That is why the Priestess wanted him dead, you see." said the Eye. "He was just too smart for his own good. And now, that knowledge sleeps in your head."

"But what good will that do me?! I can't break free."

"Oh, you can."

"There's guards right outside my tank! They're keeping me sedated!"

"Come now, try not to think of every enemy you encounter as something you need to kill. Try and see them instead as a potential ally. For a Psionic, this is a simple thing. All you have to do is reach in their heads..."

"I... I don't know how."

"Don't worry, my twelve friends will help."

"And once I'm loose, what then?"

"Well, you've got many options, I suppose. You could run straight to the shuttle bay and escape immediately..."

"Or I could kill the Triumvirate and be done with it..." Subject Zero was more than eager to do that. Romeo would be first.

"Tempting, is it not? But Alex is still out there, and you're missing an arm and an eye. You might get one of them when he stops you, but then the other two will simply replace their loss and move on. Then again, you might succeed in getting all three."

The Eye floated away, and the Greys began to hum.

"It's up to you. And to answer your earlier questions... I am the God from the Machine, and I want to see what you'll do, once you are free. I think... it will be very interesting."

And then the eye vanished.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Subject Zero opened her eyes, and the Gift flared in her like a flame. She could see the guards outside, and could see the colour of their souls. She reached into one, pulling him close, whispering to him like a lover, and he slumped forward, and adjusted her intravenous drip down to nothing.<p>

Her body was free, and her biotics flared red, back to life, and she exploded in a burst of Dark Energy.

If one could picture the greatest orgasm ever, and multiply it by a factor of three, then Subject Zero was currently going through it, for freedom felt that good to her. Memories rushed in her mind's eye as her brain cells went alight with electricity. When the explosion died down, she got a handle on them better, and she found herself back in time, when her grandfather had given her a present.

_It was, of all things, a Teddy bear, and Jacqueline had loved it, even though she certainly had not treated it particularly well. Her father had found the frayed thing, and told her that she was to be a warrior, and such toys were beneath her. _

_She had put it in the incinerator herself, and cried when she realized what she had done. _Wait_, she cried. _Please, I changed my mind! Don't take him away from me!_ she begged the flames._ Don't take away my—

"Ursus?!..." she coughed, as the large man patted her back as she vomited the liquid in her lungs out. She looked around: the explosion had turned her glass cage into a shrapnel bomb, and her guards had been shredded when she broke free. Sparks flew from the electrics of broken machinery. The way out was still locked, however.

"I am here, my Lady," said Ursus as he helped her get up.

Once she was sure she could maintain her balance, she slapped him. "Where the FUCK were you when Romeo stuck me like a pig?!"

"I could not act against your father," said Ursus, unhurt. "Any more than you could." Before she could strike again, Ursus knelt before her, head lowered, and presented her with a weapon. It was the ivory sabre, with the obsidian blade. "But now I am here, and my life is yours, as it always has been."

Subject Zero grabbed the weapon and smiled, and she gave her first command as a squad of Illuminati Elites stormed the ruined chamber.

"Kill them."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>An alarm rang throughout the Hand of Baphomet. Subject Zero had been loosed.<p>

For years to come the Triumvirate would try to explain to themselves — through science or faith — exactly what had happened, but suffice to say that a monster had been loosed, and that it wanted its maker dead. At first, she had tried to carve her way through the security mechs under Alexandre's control and the hundreds of Illuminati Elites under the Triumvirate's command, but being handicapped and hungry, that idea didn't pan out so well. Then, in a move that shocked everyone, Subject Zero displayed exactly just how powerful a psychic she was when the Elites started going insane with fury.

They attacked each other, themselves, invisible ghosts in the halls. It didn't matter what it was, they assaulted it with guns, knives, and their bare hands. In time, the fifty or so that didn't murder one another began to form a cohesive, vicious group of berserkers, who had carved a mockery of the Templar cross on their faces to mark their allegiance to Subject Zero. And their rage, born out of the heart of a betrayed young woman, became focused on the Triumvirate.

Fortunately for them, Alexandre was there. With superhuman speed and grace, the Merovingian cut the mad men apart, as bullets barely slowed them down. Instead of screaming in pain and laying down to die, all they did was curse loudly and repeatedly and insanely even as they bled, continuing with their onslaught.

"YOU ENSLAVED US!" screamed one of them before Alexandre beheaded him.

The Triumvirate and their escorts made a bee-line for the nearest hangar, where transports were waiting for them to take them away to safety. Romeo was the last to board, and just as he was about to cross the threshold he felt a ray of pure hatred bore into his neck.

He turned around to see Subject Zero, standing there in the middle of the hangar, clad in little else than a hospital gown and large brown coat hanging from her shoulders. Her head lowered just so, but her gaze fixed upon Romeo. He was just about to reach out to her with the Gift, to pull her strings, to make her understand his plan... but the Priestess' guards would detect him, and then they would bid the Merovingian kill him.

_Not yet,_ he thought, _but soon._

"Another t—" he started to say, but before he could finish her Warp attack had consumed his right arm. He screamed in utter agony before Alexandre pulled him back in, and he screamed harder when the nano-aug applied a makeshift tourniquet to stem the blood flowing from the torn, misshapen stump.

Alexandre looked up for a moment to look at Subject Zero, at her cat-like smile. The ship began to rumble, and just then the Hand's computer warned the long dead crew that the ship's orbit was decaying. He understood then the only reason they could leave was because she willed it so. The airlock hissed closed, and as Romeo grit his teeth to stop himself from screaming, Alexandre smirked.

"An army of _those_, hm?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You're letting them go?" asked Ursus as the transport flew away, and a handful of surviving Illuminati Elites, freed from their conditioning, approached her from behind.<p>

"I'm too weak to make a fight of it," she said. "And death is too cheap for them. No... I'm going to make them suffer, first. I'm going to ruin all their plans, destroy all their fortunes, and then..."

Her eyes flared red. "...and then I'm going to ENJOY them, in ways that will make them scream forever."

Ursus knelt before Subject Zero. The freed Illuminati soldiers, at a loss as to what to do next, followed suit. "And we shall aid you in this quest," said Ursus, head bowed low, "and in all else, until we die, My Lady."

"No."

Ursus' face fell. "...I'm sorry?"

"From here on in I am no longer 'your lady'. From this day forth..." she gave it a moment's thought, and decided.

"...Call me Jack."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>2156<strong>_

Jack opened her eyes, and looked around the dark, cold metallic room. There wasn't a machine she wasn't plugged into somehow, through tubes, or needles, or scanners. She felt something kick inside her, and knew that the Monster would soon be born.

He reached out to her son, and hoped that it would not be too late.

_**...I don't have much time left. I have to make this brief. **_

_**Seven years. **_

_**Seven years of Chaos. A thousand warriors at my back, a prototype Wanzer, ten ships. A campaign across Sol that ended with a duel deep inside Pluto, and the gates to the stars were torn wide open...**_

_**But I lost. After so many battles won, I lost the war. **_

"Hello, sister," said Elizabeth, a dead smile on her face.

"Hello, sister," said Theodore, with the white saber in hand. "It's time..."

The medical techs approached to begin extracting their 'sample' but with a strength that surprised even her, Jack protected herself with a powerful Biotic Barrier.

_**That's all I can give you, my defeat. They think they've won, they'll think that all is as it should be again, and that you'll be under their complete control... and you will be, for a time.**_

Theodore, prepared for this, channelled his own psionic power through the sword, and the barrier slowly gave way. He went for the belly, only to meet another, stronger barrier.

"This will go a lot smoother if you just submit," Theodore said nonchalantly, even as he struggled to cut into her.

"Fuck you," Jack hissed in response.

_**But not always, and that will be your chance.**_

It was no use, in the end. Jack's swollen belly was torn open, and it was Elizabeth that took the children out. They were twins: One was a beautiful little baby, smooth and perfect and calm. The other was a misshapen, mutated thing that wouldn't stop crying.

"Look at the monster you've made," groaned Jack. "Is it everything you hoped for?"

"A Monster?" replied Elizabeth, amused. "Why, t'is only a piece of garbage!" Elizabeth giggles became grunts of frustration, as she could not pull the twins apart.

They were conjoined at the head.

"Calm yourself, sister." chided Theodore. "A surgeon will have to separate the garbage from that beautiful little angel, or else we will lose the precious little bundle, hm?"

_**There will always be a Subject Zero to serve them, but there will always be a Jack to KILL THEM ALL.**_

Alarms blared suddenly, and there was a rumble. Someone had breached the walls of this place with explosives.

"Oh dear," said Theodore, "It seems the old lion still has claws to bear."

"Off to Kinderheim, then!" declared Elizabeth, as she made her way out with Jack's children.

"Wait!" Jack cried, and reached out for her son. "Don't take my baby away! Give him back to me! Please!"

Theodore brought the blade to her neck. "I wish it didn't have to be so, but he Old Lion just forced our hand. It's a shame; our masters hoped to keep you as a brood mare for a lot longer than this..."

Elizabeth whirled around, urging impatiently for her clone brother to get on with it. Jack saw her children one last time. The monster was still sleeping, peacefully, while her son — her true son — just stared at her with his oversized eye, and reached out for her with his malformed hand.

_**You are my gift to the world. You are my revengeance. You are my **_**white dragon. **

"Oh well." Theodore slashed her throat, and watched as Jack's life's blood poured out.

_**Make them all pay. Make them all pay...**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>2183<strong>_

With a gasp, Ramsus opened his eye, and awoke.

_**~[h+]~**_


	52. Chapter 44: Almost Home

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 44: Almost home...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Voice Cast:<strong>_

_**Michael Jay White as Captain Alan Simmons**_

_**Russell Crowe as Captain Robin Aubrey**_

_**Alessandro Juliani as Commodore Yang Wen-Li**_

_**Tim Curry as Ambassador Cherdenko**_

_**Nolan North as Lieutenant Nathan Frost**_

_**Christina Hendricks as Kim Tae-Yeon**_

_**Marton Csokas as Lord-General Gismor**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Make them pay!<strong>_

The whispers in the dark had built up to those three words, cutting through the hum that resonated throughout the ship. So loud was the phrase that it startled Manah into wakefulness. She groaned and rubbed her eyes as she lifted her head from her desk, and realized that once again she had fallen asleep while working.

The mess of papers and datapads were a rich source of information on Amaethon and Xytegenia and various other planets throughout the Sirius sector. According to Hein, Sirius was a source of (mostly) untouched ancient ruins. Some of these had been built with Promethean knowledge, and Manah had to tell the true treasure troves of Promethean knowledge from the tourist traps.

She stared at the documents in the hopes that they would make sense. When they didn't, she brushed them away from her table with a sigh of frustration. Unable to concentrate on work, she decided to explore the ship.

Like a moth to a flame she was drawn to the people, as their light and warmth stood out from the cold background of the mechs that worked throughout the metal vessel like ants in a colony. She followed the sound of the crew's voices...

...And found herself in the galley. Jane was at one of the tables, sharpening her knives, while Zev was lounging in a couch in the corner.

"I hear you took down a few CAT6 snipers," said Jane.

"I might have," Zev replied, coyly.

"And that you did it real quiet."

"I might have done that too."

"So. Quarians train their own assassins. That's interesting."

"Nonsense — I am just an orphan that ran away to join the circus. I was raised by all manner of people: scoundrels, acrobats, jugglers... but assassins? No."

Jane gave him a look that pretty much declared she wasn't buying his story.

At this, Zev merely chuckled. "Honestly, what use do the Quarians have for assassins? We're one big happy family and..."

... then the sounds of the ship quieted themselves, and Zev looked straight at Manah. His roguish tone and manner were gone, replaced with the bearing of a man filled with purpose and love.

"I am your man," he said, "without any reservation."

Manah was confused, and thought that perhaps she had missed something of the conversation. She turned to Jane, hoping that she would clear up the confusion.

Jane said nothing, and did nothing, as her head was resting on the table. Her expression was completely dead, but Manah could feel pure horror emanating from her.

Manah blinked, the hum of the machines blasted back to life, and Jane chucked as she began sharpening the next knife in her set. "Well, mind showing me some of those circus tricks?"

"Hm, I suspect you could teach ME a few things, yes? Where did you learn your skills? I doubt your Marine Corps could train such a... graceful and brutal fighter."

"...My dad taught me," said Jane. "And when he died, the streets did."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah was just about to take a turn down the hall into the residential area when she heard the voices of Dr. Ross and Captain Grey. She stopped, and dropped eaves on the two humans.<p>

"Toombs is almost awake," said the doctor.

"Good," came Grey's terse reply. "Everyone got the story straight?"

"Yes, but... Grey, I don't think it's a good idea to lie to him."

"You said you erased his memories — did something go wrong?"

"No but... our 'coma' story may not hold as much water as we think. Maybe it would be better to—"

"—Tell him right off the bat that he was turned into a serial killer? No. We proceed as planned."

"Grey?" Ross' tone was firm, and challenging. "Be honest with me: do you really want Toombs to recover or do you just want him combat ready?"

"...I figured this wasn't going to be an issue with you." Grey's voice had an accusatory, venomous edge to it, which surprised Manah quite a bit: Grey had always seemed cold, if not polite. "You used to dig holes in men's heads before." He tapped the side of his head meaningfully. "This isn't going to be any different than the _last_ time."

To Ross, the gesture had been like a slap in the face. "This isn't the same!"

"Right, right! Maybe you want him to forget _me_, too? And Ryan, and—"

"Grey, that's not fair! I tried to—"

"To make me _forget!_" Grey said this like it was the most heinous of crimes.

"I tried to help you!"

"These men deserved better than..." Grey balled his fists. "You went too damned far!"

The argument got more and more heated, until eventually, all became quiet, and Aki turned to Manah.

"Don't be scared," she said. "This is for the best; you'll see."

Grey wasn't facing Manah at all. His arms were crossed, his jaw was tense, and he was looking intently at something far away.

"They all died for _nothing_," he said, bitterly keeping his anger in check.

The ship's heartbeat resumed, and the argument came to its conclusion.

"I'm done arguing with you about this," said Grey with finality as he walked away from Aki. "If Toombs figures it out, then... then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"This is going to explode in our faces, Grey!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Wrex, there's a perfectly nice corner in the cargo bay for you to brood," said Bakara.<p>

"I'm not going back there," Wrex replied. "That place feels _wrong_."

"Then go somewhere else," said Bakara, as she put another test sample under her scanner to calibrate it.

"I'm getting the distinct impression you don't want me here."

"When I need you to headbutt a petri dish into submission or shake down a bioprinter for money, I'll be sure to call you. In the meantime..." she gestured at the door.

"After what just happened back on Peak 15 you'd think you'd appreciate having some muscle on hand. You know, in case your next experiment runs amok."

"If I need someone to protect me, I'll call on the Turian."

"...Nice. Really went for the quad, there. Honestly, _woman_, when did you get so _bitchy_?"

Bakara stared at him, hard. "A thousand years of despair, topped with a decade or so of Wreav's rule over Tuchanka."

"...Yeah, that will do it."

Bakara slammed her fist on her table. "Don't you dare think you have an inkling of what those years were like, Wrex." Her voice was cold, yet full of menace.

Wrex, being what he is, saw that as a challenge. "What, you think the last millenium was sunshine and roses for me? I bore witness to the moment when our race _**embraced**_ our slow death!"

Manah stepped through the doorway to Bakara's lab just then, unseen and unheard, but the room she entered wasn't made out of sterlize metal and plastic... It was made of old, brown stone, carved with the stories of the very first tribe of Krogan. The balcony, instead of leading to the blackness of space, overlooked the one place on Tuchanka that was still teeming with greenery, and was blessed with a clear blue-gray sky and bright sunshine.

Standing outside on that balcony were Wrex and Bakara, but they looked different: their skin was smoother, and mostly untouched by scars. Their clothes were fine: Bakara was covered in silks inlaid with gold, while Wrex was covered in red leather with silver studs. They exchanged mementos, and held each others hands, closed their eyes, and gently let their foreheads meet.

The wave washed over Manah, filled with love — a mixture of lust and possessiveness and passion, tempered by devotion and compassion — and the intensity of it made her feel lightheaded and drunk. She closed her eyes, and drank from the wave, and...

And she was in the place she had meant to step into: in a sterile chamber filled with machines. Wrex and Bakara were no longer holding hands, no longer touching foreheads. They were separated by a table, bickering over who had suffered the most. It hurt Manah so much to see two people that had once been so devoted to one another argue so viciously, so much so that she wanted to get away, but she couldn't.

"Enough!" snarled Wrex bitterly, and he made his way towards the door.

"Go on!" shouted Bakara. "Leave, just like you left me so long ago!"

Wrex stopped, and turned to face her. "Damn you, woman! Do you want me to stay or not?!"

Bakara's answer came in the form of a microscope thrown at his head.

"Fine!" Wrex snarled. "Be that way! I hope your next insane experiment kills you!"

Manah felt someone grab her wrist, and with a start she turned to see who did so.

It was the Quarian boy, Fyodor. He shook his head at the lost Asari, and tugged at her to follow him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the cargo bay, Manah sat next to Fyodor, who was painting on a canvas he had set on the floor. She was hugging her knees, and silently watching as the young genius' hands worked at alarming speed to bring a world into being inside of a tiny window.<p>

A few steps away, Neil was standing by himself, looking at the empty space where the Copperhead once had been. He sighed, worried.

"You okay?" said Ryan as he approached his fellow marine. He had just finished examining his Demonica suit, and he had already figured out how to integrate it with the standard M.I.P.S. parts.

"Just worried about my baby," replied the pilot.

"Don't worry, I'm sure Hein will bring it back in one piece."

Hein, as part of a deal with Bakara, had promised to her that the children that had been under her protection at Peak 15 would be taken care of at a Tarsus Garden. They would even be given full scholarships, which meant room and board and an excellent education until they were 18 years of age.

Considering recent events, he thought it best to make good on his promise immediately. Once the Durendal was in the right system, Hein took off with the kids in the Copperhead, which was more than capable of making an in-system flight. In the meantime, the Durendal would keep going at full speed towards the Citadel.

"We never actually did a Relay Jump with it," said Neil. "I don't know if it can handle the stress."

"Grissom probably didn't think his bucket would make it through the Pluto relay back in 2156."

"Shit, the Copperhead was older than that tub even back then!"

"Ah you worry too much." Ryan patted Neil on the back, and made his way towards the elevator.

"You do remember that it's HEIN flying it, right?!" Neil said out loud.

"Oh man, poor kids!" Ryan started to let out a good laugh just as he passed by Fyodor, and once again the deafening silence manifested itself. Ryan stared straight at Manah, with the eyes of a fanatical killer that she knew all to well, and said:

"You heathens are going to _**burn**_."

Manah looked away, and saw Neil looking straight at her with a look filled with curiosity and innocence that she found comforting.

"Who monitors the birds?" he said.

Ryan's laughter rushed ahead of the Durendal's gentle roar, and Manah was snapped back to her layer of reality.

"Say," said the large man. "Who's flying the ship?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the CIC, Tali watched the new mech work the helm. <em>His name is Teg<em>, Hein had told her. _He's not connected to the ship, but I've programmed him to function as part of the Durendal's crew. Do look after him and make sure he doesn't run into any walls, please?_

Tali wasn't sure what Hein expected her to do, as he hadn't given her much information on how to modify the robot. She couldn't get a wireless signal out of it, and there weren't any visible datajacks for her to plug in her Omni-Tool.

It was a custom job, cobbled together from angular and blocky Armadyne parts Zev had brought back. Hein had added his personal touch by painting its armour dark blue and covering its torso in a tan heavy combat vest.

She didn't like it. Oh, it worked fine, and obeyed commands as it should, but sometimes Tali caught it staring at her with its single, large optic.

"This is so unfair," said Garrus, in mock sorrow. "I mean, I get extremely drunk once — just once! — and already you're replacing me."

"What the hell are you even going on about?" asked Adam, exasperated.

"I mean look at the configuration!" said the turian, pointing at Teg's actuators and stabilizers. "It's optimized for sniper rifles, no mistake about it!"

"Huh. So it is."

"Be straight with me, Adam, I can take it. Is it..." he whimpered, exaggeratedly. "...is it over between us?"

If Adam didn't have his shades on, Garrus could have seen him roll his eyes. "I can't help to notice it's also got a pair of retractable arm blades on."

"Don't change the subject!"

"Enough with the clingy girlfriend act, already. I think Hein made himself a replacement for both of us, Vakarian."

"What the hells for?"

Tali did her best not to sound disappointed, "Ah, you're not staying on the ship?"

"Well," answered Adam, "Not for much longer. We still work at C-Sec, after all." He nodded at Teg. "I'm sure Hein's preparing for the day when Pallin decides to call on us for a major case. Hell, it's probably going to be all hands on deck when all of Earth's Spectre candidates show up. Big event, big security."

Garrus cleared his throat meaningfully. "Of course, the Durendal's probably going to have to attend the big event. Isnt it, um... what's the name of the country, again?" he clicked his talons. "America! The Durendal's America's attempt at making a stealth ship, right?"

"True, it's the prototype that led to the creation of the Normandy. The US Navy will probably want to show it off."

"So we'll be docked at the Citadel for a while, hm?" said Tali. "I guess that means I can give the Durendal a proper tune up."

"Let us know if..." Adam looked at the center of the CIC, and said little else.

"Err, Jensen?" asked Tali, worried, giving Garrus a meaningful look. Everyone on the Durendal was concerned that having a Promethean AI inside his head would eventually burn out his brains.

Adam simply rubbed his replacement eye. "I'm fine, it's just... I thought I saw T'soni run out of here."

"I didn't see anything," shrugged Garrus.

"And we would have heard her come in," said Tali. "There's a chime on the door."

"...Right... still, I think I might have to go check on her."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Manah ran away, terrified at what she saw. At first she thought she heard someone ask whether or not he had a soul, and the engineer begging to be allowed to come home. Then, after a moment of awkward silence, the turian marksman SCREAMED at her, and it was when she turned her gaze on Adam — her saviour — that she became truly scared.<p>

The room she found herself in was dark, and cool, and quiet. She leaned back against the wall, and let herself fall to the ground. She tried to regain control of herself, to stop panicking, but she became all the more distraught when she realized something:

_How did I get inside this room?_ she wondered. _Or any other room? The doors were closed and locked... And why did they speak to me this way?_

The voice, made of smooth leather, cut through her thoughts like a blade. "Who's there?"

Manah recognized the man behind the glass barrier, with the wavy mop of golden hair. She was in the brig with the man rejected by death.

She was alone with Johann Ramsus.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus had spent the better part of an hour wondering. He wondered why he couldn't feel his amp port. He wondered why he was missing an arm. He wondered why he couldn't see out of his right eye, and most of all he wondered who had locked him in here, in this cell devoid of little comforts.<p>

His attempt to break free hadn't worked. He could barely manage a biotic aura at the moment, let alone a kinetic bolt strong enough to destroy an inch of reinforced plastic. He tried to reach out with his mind, but he could only hear whispers and echoes, and not much else. All he could do was wait, and that's what he hated most of all. It wouldn't be long before he would crave freedom like a feral animal...

_What is wrong with me? What happened to me? Who did this to me?_ He asked himself, hoping to figure out an answer... But then there was a whimper, and it had felt like an explosion of sound and colours in the dull, unbearable silence of this prison.

"Who's there?" he called out, as he sat up from his bunk. He could see nothing past the transparent barrier, as the only illumination was an OLED plate on the ceiling. He got up, and approached the partition, seeing the dim outline of his reflection on the surface of the plastic.

He heard the whimper again, and smiled. He recognized the sweet sound of a scared, sorrowful young woman. "Come now... don't be shy..." he soothed, but the sweet tone was quickly replaced with the harshness of a command. "Step into the light."

The visitor stepped forward, and for a moment — not even a second, but worth an eternity — Johann Ramsus completely forgot about his weakness, his plight, and his failure to save the only other person that mattered to him. He even forgot about Junko.

Her skin was the colour of alabaster, or baked sugar. Her fingers were slender and smooth, lacking all wrinkles. Her mouth was a bit small, pursed with worry, while her eyes were glistening cherries set within eyelashes that might as well have been the wings of ravens. They were wide with apprehension and curiosity... but Ramsus thought they would be best narrowed in mischief.

"You... are _beautiful_," he said, and it was the purest, unblemished truth... and it had felt good to say. He almost always told the truth, of course, but only after tearing it out of someone's soul and turning it into a weapon. Right now, the truth made the asari maiden blush a bit, and that was all, and that...

That was fine. It felt nice.

_She is __**impossibly**__ beautiful_, Ramsus thought, and he realized then that he perhaps found a kindred spirit. "Are you like me? A _demon_ covered in the finely wrought skin of an angel?"

"I..." she said shyly. Then, more firmly: "I am not a demon! I am... I am Manah T'soni."

"Manah... 'Mind', I believe, in one of the old tongues... And why have you come here, Manah? What do you want from me?"

"I lost my way... I didn't mean to be here..."

"Nor did I. That's one thing we have in common, hm?"

"...Nor do I want anything for you."

"No? But Manah, sweet, sweet Manah..." He put his hand on the partition separating him from her. "I have so much to give you..." He closed his eyes, and reached out to her... and felt the longing of chocolate on her tongue. He fulfilled that longing with a piece of his memories.

When he opened his eyes, he realized something... he shouldn't have been able to do that. "You _burn_ with the Gift. You could be so much more, if you could only be taught."

She looked at him then, temptation and fascination dancing across her face, and then it was quickly replaced with something that took him by surprise.

Disappointment.

"You can't teach me anything."

And just like that, without so much as a goodbye, she vanished, and she took all the light with her...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus awoke with a start on his bunk, and the next thing he felt was the dull fullness of a throbbing erection.<p>

"Well," he said, feigning hurt feelings. "That was rude."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The knocking on her door cut through the soothing hum of the Durendal, startling Manah into wakefulness. Her desk was a mess, the papers thrown about by her agitation as she had slept. It would take an hour to get them back in something resembling order.<p>

"T'soni? Are you all right in there?" asked Adam from beyond the door.

She rubbed her eyes, groaned a bit, and sighed in relief once she realized that what had happened had been nothing but a dream. "I'm awake! I'm awake..."

_Mostly_, she thought. Manah had never been much of a morning person, a trait which had gotten her in a lot of trouble in the tightly structured life of the Justicar monastery.

"What is it?" she asked, as she tried to rub the tiredness from her eyes. She looked a bit dishevelled, and her clothes were creased.

"Were you at the CIC just a few minutes ago?" Adam asked, like he was questioning a suspect.

"The what?"

"The ship's bridge — the control center."

"I was asleep..." she said, tasting her mouth, and covering it to spare Adam the smell of morning breath. "hm... I think I dreamt about it, though. Is it a room with eight walls, lots of chairs and a pit?"

"As a matter of fact, it is. You visited it before?"

"Hm... actually, no. I don't think I even have access to that place... or even the Krogan's laboratory."

"What does Urdnot's laboratory have to do with anything?"

"Well..."

Manah told Adam about her dream, how she overheard some of the crew say one thing and then suddenly act strangely for a brief second. Adam was particularly interested in what Ryan Whitaker 'said'.

She then told him about her encounter with Ramsus.

"It was odd," she said. "The others... even you, acted as if I wasn't even there. But Ramsus, he did. We even spoke."

"Makes sense that you'd dream of him so vividly."

Manah became a bit flustered. "What?!"

"He did make a pretty interesting first impression on you."

Manah suppressed the visions of a bloody naked human screaming on top of her. It was the stuff of nightmares...

_But that visage..._

Manah shook her head. "But it was just a dream. It does not mean anything, right?"

"I don't know..." Adam shrugged. "Recent events have me thinking there's more to dreams than we think or even understand." He considered things for a moment. "Or it could be that Ramsus is wide awake and messing with our heads."

"What does Mister Hein think we should do? Oh, wait..."

"Hein left the ship, yesterday and he picked one hell of a time to do it. Honestly, none of us are sure what to do with an homicidally insane psychic."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Jensen, I need you to get Ramsus the hell out of here," said Aki Ross.<p>

She had stopped Adam on his way to Ramsus' cell, looking more than a bit nervous. "And Brea, and Echo."

"Doctor, _we're in space_."

"I know that! What I mean is... look, the _Saratoga_ is waiting for us at the Citadel, and the big wigs will no doubt want Frost to have his own stealth ship to match the Normandy. That means a surprise inspection and a lot of pairs of eyeballs all over!"

"And what does that have to do with Ramsus, Brea, and Echo?"

"Brea and Echo are clones, Adam!" When he didn't quite catch on what that meant, she continued: "Clones, even extremely advanced custom jobs like Brea, are _illegal_ in the US. That goes double for ones with an Omar cyberbrain! The UNAS has a 'shoot on sight' policy regarding clones."

Adam frowned, not really liking the sound of that. "So much for the land of the free."

"I know, it's not..." Aki pinched the bridge of her nose. "Look, I don't want to see them shot any more than you do. Echo's really nice and Brea... well Brea is Brea, but I don't want her dead! We're docking with the Citadel in six hours and when we do it would be best for everyone if they got off the ship, and Ramsus..."

"Hoo boy, yeah."

"How do I explain to the _Saratoga_'s captain that we have a prisoner — a rogue AIA psychic assassin — with a flower that's growing out of his eyeball?!"

Adam knew it was much worse than that. All Ramsus would have to do to bring down the heat on the entire Durendal crew was simply say that Hein works with the Shadow Broker. Aki and the Deep Eyes didn't even know, and if they did... well, they might even join in the hunt for Hein.

"Ramsus, I can understand... but I think you're overreacting with Brea and Echo. They can disguise themselves. Just give them Navy uniforms and—"

"Adam, I'm the only Navy officer that was ever assigned to the Durendal. They'll know something's up the minute they see them."

"DARPA uniforms, then."

Aki was getting exasperated, and would not hear any more. "Adam, I'm a DOCTOR, not a god damned SPYMASTER. I'm sorry, but until Captain Simmons relieves me, I want to make sure that Hein's personal war doesn't ruin all our lives!"

"Fine," Adam sighed, "I'll take care of it. We won't be aboard when the _Saratoga_ sends its inspection team."

"Good, and... wait, 'we'?"

"Well, you'll have trouble explaining me, Garrus, and Drebin, too."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam continued on his way to Ramsus' cell. Two thirds of the way there, he was joined by none other than Brea. As always, she was dressed for success, and carrying two large and very heavy looking white suitcases in each hand.<p>

"Headed my way?" she asked, walking beside him.

"Need to talk to Ramsus."

"So yes, then. He should still be asleep."

"I doubt it. He just tried to mess with T'soni's head."

"Did he?"

An awkward silence came between them, and Adam was the first to break it. "Two questions."

"Ask," Brea replied.

"One: what's in the suitcases?"

"A bio-printer, a collapsible bed and various other medical equipment. Need it for a disguise."

"Okay. Two: why did you dye your hair red?"

"Need it for a disguise." She gave him a slight smile. "We're headed for the Citadel and — as I recall — 'Sarah Walker' is still a wanted suspect there. I still need to change my voice a bit, though."

"And your face?" Adam asked, pointing at the bioprinter.

"Oh, no, that's not for me. That's for Ramsus. He'll need a disguise, too. Ross may think she's on top of things, but my 'patron' warned me of what we would need to do to evade detection by the US Navy and other organizations at the Citadel last night."

"Is that so? Well, I still think Ross is overreacting. Can't you and Echo just pretend you're with DARPA?"

"We could pretend we're contractors, yes, but then the Navy would order background checks, and that's a hassle we can't bother with right now. It took considerable resources creating and activating an identity that would let ME walk around the station without raising any alarms."

"Gotcha. And Ramsus?"

"Too much of a wild card — honestly, I would have preferred to have him moved to one of our facilities but..."

"...But then the Deep Eyes would ask too many questions."

"Exactly."

"Don't you have a safe house on the Citadel where you can keep him?"

"A few, yes. Of course, we'll need to get past a few C-Sec checkpoints, first."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>When they entered the cell, Adam and Aya each had their own expectations as to what was waiting for them inside.<p>

Adam had thought that Ramsus would be sitting at his bunk, patiently waiting to be questioned, to be offered an opportunity to unravel a mind. Brea had thought that Ramsus would simply be asleep, as the soporific injection she had designed just for him was designed to keep a grown man sedate for days.

They were both wrong: Ramsus was lying naked on his bunk.

Masturbating.

"Oh, GOD!" shouted Aya, averting her gaze. Adam said nothing as he simply palmed his face.

"Oh, hello, you two!" Ramsus was cheerful, and not at all embarrassed by the entire situation. "What a wonderful surprise!" he said, not stopping his motion.

"Could you please _stop_?" protested Aya.

"Just a moment... aaaaaaaaand — ah! — there." Ramsus let out a satisfied sigh, then got up from his bunk to face his two visitors, stopping a few inches from the transparent barrier. He smirked at their expression. "Honestly, why the shock and surprise? I mean it's not like I've been locked up in a dark room with no distractions save for the all too brief visit of amazingly beautiful Asari." He sniffed. "_And_ a statuesque blonde. Is it any wonder I rub one out to pass the time?"

"Most people have the good sense to stop when someone enters the room," said Adam.

"Most people aren't me." Ramsus replied, pointedly. "So, YOU are the ones that saw fit to lock me up? I must say, I expected better accommodations from the Shadow Broker's goons."

"Considering you were in the ship's morgue earlier, I would say the brig's an improvement," said Adam, crossing his arms.

Ramsus narrowed his eye. "...Why in the hell would you have me sleep in the _morgue_?"

"Because until a while ago, you were dead."

Ramsus held Adam's gaze for a moment, and laughed. "Nice one, Jensen. I almost believed you."

_That's interesting_, thought Adam. "...You don't remember dying?"

"I remember being stabbed in the back just as I was about to free my sister." Ramsus shrugged. "After that, it's a bit of a blur. I assume you saved my life and brought me here." He paused, considering, then asked, keeping his hopes in check. "Annah..."

"...Is still with Scholar," finished Adam.

"...How?"

"He tricked us. We fought some kind of remotely controlled avatar. The whole time, the real Scholar was ready to leave the planet aboard a ship built into the top of the arcology."

Ramsus nearly roared as he slammed his fist against the barrier. "THERE WAS AN ENTIRE FLEET OF VESSELS HIGH ABOVE! WHY DID THEY LET HIM ESCAPE?!"

"At first, they did," explained Aya, having regained some of her composure. "When the Acheron hailed the escape pod and ordered it to stay in orbit however, the ship simply vanished from all sensors. Hein believes that Scholar used a new type of FTL drive, but it doesn't matter. Scholar, and Annah, are still at large in the galaxy."

Brea approached the glass. "The Broker wants to help you."

"The Broker is not an altruist," growled Ramsus. "What does he want in exchange?"

"Your assistance. Your talents. Your services. In exchange for that, the Broker will have all his agents on the lookout for Scholar and his pyramid, and when we find him, we will provide you with his whereabouts and a small army to accompany you. Sounds like a good deal, wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, except for the part where the Broker holds the promise of revenge like a carrot on a stick."

"Well..." Brea smiled. "You can't expect us to honour our part of the bargain before we get SOME use out of you. In any case, until the time comes when you confront Scholar, we'll keep you from the prying eyes of the Illuminati."

Ramsus turned his back to her, and considered his options. "Do you know why I worked for the Illuminati for so long? I was offered a choice, much like the one you're offering me now. If I did as they asked, killed who they wanted, submitted to their experiments... then Annah would be kept safe."

"So why did you betray them?" asked Adam.

"They killed Shepard. That alone told me they would renege on their deal the first chance they got. What assurances do I have that you'll not do the same?"

"For one thing, we're not holding Annah hostage," said Brea.

"In a way, you are."

"The Broker assures me that dealing with Annah — the most powerful psychic in existence — is of paramount importance. If you don't believe me... you can always read my mind."

"...Ah, but I cannot read the Broker's," said Ramsus.

"Then I suppose you'll have to take a leap of faith. But if that's too much for you, well, you can always refuse. We'll even drop you off at the Citadel with a forged identity, and you and Hannibal can try and find Annah on your own. How well did that work out last time?"

Ramsus narrowed his eyes at Brea.

"Oh, that's right!" she said in mock surprise. "Tartakovsky captured you, experimented on you, and Hannibal nearly destroyed itself trying to figure out where you were."

Ramsus said nothing at this. Instead he rubbed the smooth stump of his severed arm and then rubbed the back of his neck, feeling for his missing amp jack.

"You don't have to answer me right now," said Brea, activating her Omni-Tool. "All you have to do is hold still while I work on your disguise."

"And if I don't?"

"Then you can rot in this cell forever."

"...Fine. Do what you need to do."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"My turn, robot," said Neil tapping on the mech's shoulder. 'Teg' looked back at Neil, an emitter under its main optic blinking a green hologram at him, and promptly got up from the seat, letting the human take the ship's helm.<p>

"Well I'll be damned," exclaimed Neil with a smile. "You got a navigation computer in you? You managed to shave off quite a bit of time off our trip. Nice going."

The mech said nothing as it moved to man the sensor station.

"Not much for conversation huh? Okay then..."

For about two hours, Neil said nothing as he watched the sensor globe for any incoming danger, occasionally looking up at the ETA countdown, making the occasional course correction when it fluctuated. He hated long flights aboard large vessels, and preferred the speed and acrobatics you could only get out of a space fighter — or a modified Copperhead. He sighed, bored.

Finally, it came time to decelerate to STL speeds just before entering Widow's gravity well. Just as Neil did this, the sensor globe fizzled out. Neil turned around to see Teg rapidly working the controls at the sensor station. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Teg blinked yellow, then orange, then green, then stopped working the controls. Neil turned back to his station, and the sensor globe was working fine. Not only that, there was a red blip coming about on an intercept course.

"Whoa, whoa whoa... what the hell is this? Corvette displacement, no IFF, and coming in hot..." muttered Neil. He followed standard procedure, deployed a couple of defence drones, and hailed the incoming ship across all channels.

"This is United States Space Vessel Durendal to incoming unknown corvette, please respond." He instructed the drones to power their weapons and acquire a lock on the unknown ship. He repeated his hail, then added a warning: "If you do not respond we will interpret you as a hostile and open fire."

The ship slowed down and flew in parallel to the Durendal, and after five, incredibly tense seconds, Neil got a reply.

_"Durendal, This is Spectre Tela Vasir aboard the Fáv̱los Lepída. I'm here to board your ship. Spectre business."_

"Lepída, Durendal. You're going to have to be a little more specific."

A sigh laced with static was his reply, then:_ "Durendal, Lepída. On behalf of the Council I'm here to relieve the Durendal of any and all Prothean artifacts."_

"...Err..."

_"Oh, also, I'm here to take custody of Manah T'soni."_

"Oooooooh crap," Neil muttered under his breath.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Inside the cell, Adam watched as Brea set everything up to disguise Ramsus, ready to step in if the cannibalistic biotic tried anything. Unexpectedly, Ramsus proved compliant, but Adam suspected he was waiting for an opportunity to cut loose. The first order of business had been to change Ramsus' hair to jet black. A simple enough procedure, and chemical-free.<p>

"Is Hannibal alright?" asked Ramsus.

"He was severely damaged when he fought Hashmal Lephantis."

"Who?"

"A powerful Reaper construct that was inside Wreav's Hammer. Hannibal and Vakarian killed him while we fought Scholar."

"...I think I'll need to be brought up to speed."

Adam gave Brea a look.

"Not now," she replied as she deployed the collapsible bed, as the bunk was unsuitable for what came next. "Get on," she ordered Ramsus, who complied without trouble, though things got a little tense when the straps wrapped themselves around his wrist and ankles, and metal bars clamped down on his head. It was obvious Ramsus fought the overwhelming instinct to try and free himself.

Brea put on some gloves, then pressed a button on the bio-printer. With a hiss, it opened in two to let out a thick cloud of mist that spilled on the floor, revealing a piece of skin moulded in the shape of a face. It was slightly paler than Ramsus' own creamy skin, and browner.

Brea was just about to place it on Ramsus face when he started grinning.

"Is something funny?"

"No." he replied. "Well, yes, actually. I was thinking this isn't my first time putting on someone else's face. Did I ever tell you how I got out of L-39?"

"Do be quiet, and stop grinning, otherwise the tissue bond will fail and the skin will warp."

"And then?"

"And then you can parade about the Citadel with and arse for a face."

Ramsus sighed. "I'll be good."

Using various tools, Brea made adjustments to the bio-mask. As she did, Adam decided to ask her a few questions.

"So that bio-printer, is it just to make masks or..."

Brea didn't look up from her work. "It's mostly used to grow temporary organs for emergency transplants."

"_Temporary_ organs?"

"Bio-printed organs don't last very long..." said Brea, prodding at Ramsus' new face with a needle. "...a month, at best, depending on the quality of the 'ink'. Enough time for new organ to be grown properly, or donated, or harvested. It's also used to test out medicines."

"...Is it possible to 'print' an entire person?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. It's called flash-cloning."

"Hm..." Adam looked pensive. "Could be useful if you wanted to disappear and throw pursuers off the scent: print a clone, kill it, leave the body behind..."

"Thinking like a criminal, Jensen?" said Brea, as she slowly bathed the mask with the light from a rod. "Didn't think you had it in you."

"It's part of the job."

"Well, the problem with that is that the flash clone won't last a few days, and then the jig will be up..." She produced more bits of skin from the bio-printer, in the shapes of hands. Fake fingerprints, Adam assumed.

"Like I said, it's dead."

"Yes, but when I said that bio-printed organs don't last, I mean that they eventually _melt_."

"Oh. Damn."

"It gets better. You expose the flash-cloned body to the right radiation and the deterioration accelerates considerably."

"I'm guessing that flaw's being worked on."

"Of course. Improved bio-printing technology is a priority for any major biotech corp on Venus — even the cosmetics ones."

Brea switched off the rod and with the push of a button undid the straps that held Ramsus in place. "We're not quite finished," she said, producing from one of the suitcases something that looked like both a hypospray and an airbrush.

"I know," Ramsus replied, rolling his eyes.

"Hold still and spread your arms out," she ordered, as she tweaked the settings on the device. After Ramsus complied, she sprayed a chemical over his entire body. It wasn't paint, but instead something that permeated his skin and altered his pigmentation to match that of the mask. Adam had gone through the same thing for his 'Jake Armitage' disguise.

Although, for some reason, it had taken Brea hours to finish disguising Adam, while it barely took half an hour to finish with Ramsus. Odd.

When Brea was done, Ramsus looked the part of Russian-Japanese man perfectly. Brea asked him to sit, and handed him a datapad. "Your homework."

"Kenzo... Tenma?" he asked, looking up from the text and images streaming in front of him. Adam could swear that the name bothered Ramsus in some way, judging by his confused expression.

Brea nodded.

"Painter from Neo-Kobe," continued Ramsus burying his confusion quickly. "Born in 2158, graduated..." he mumbled the rest of his fake history, not really committing anything to memory. Finally, he declared. "Well, he's a boring fellow. Tell me, is there anything in there that will explain the missing eye and arm? Did I fall down a flight of some particularly sharp stairs?"

"Ah, that reminds me," said Brea as she handed him a large white plastic eyepatch, meant to hide severe disfigurement. A hole was cut into it. "Put this on."

"Kind of defeats the purpose, doesn't it?" snarked Ramsus. "Honestly, is it that bad? I thought you could have fixed the damage—"

Brea shook her head. "We tried to remove the flower. That thing seems impervious to high frequency scalpels and surgical lasers."

"Flower?" Ramsus asked.

Brea handed him a mirror. Ramsus wasn't sure what he was supposed to be looking at, at first, but his expression went from bemused to shocked as the five petals of the Lunar Tear crawled out of the eyepatch's hole

"...What in the hell?! What is the meaning of—"

An alarm klaxon blared, declaring yellow alert across the ship.

_"Guys?" _Neil Flemming's voice echoed throughout the ship via the intercom._ "We got a Spectre incoming and she's making demands of us."_

Brea tapped on her Omni-Tool's haptics and opened a channel to the CIC."Which Spectre, what does she want with us?"

_"Tela Vasir," _replied Neil._ "She wants all our Prothean junk. Oh, and Manah, too."_

Brea and Adam stared at each other for a second, and ran straight to the CIC, dragging a naked Ramsus with them.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the senior staff of the Durendal's ship poured into the CIC, Neil tried to coax more power out of the engines. Satisfied that he did all he could, he got up from his chair and joined the group gathered around the holo-pit.<p>

"Alright folks I aaaaAAAAAAAAHNAKEDFLOWERZOMBIEONTHEBRIDGE!"

"We know, Neil," said Grey. "Calm down."

"Does he mean me?" asked Ramsus. "I assume he means me, since he's keeping the mech between us."

"Yeah, you!" said Neil, leaning out from behind Teg and pointing at Ramsus. "You were DEAD and NOW you're NOT! And WHY the FLYING FUCK are you NAKED and..." he calmed himself down a bit, more confused than scared. "...why do you look Japanese?"

"We have more pressing concerns," said Brea.

"More pressing than a ZOMBIE?!"

"Yeah, a Spectre," said Garrus. "In case you forgot all of a sudden."

"Shit, you've all been on this ship too damned long," said Neil.

"What's the situation?" asked Grey.

"Well," replied Neil. "We're about an hour away from the Citadel, but the Spectre's corvette has no trouble keeping up with us. She can't stop us without firing at our engines, though."

"I spoke to her," said Aki. "I told her that Hein had left the Durendal on business at Galbadia Garden and that I couldn't access his laboratories... which is technically true." She gave pointed looks at Brea, Jensen, and Grey. "I hoped that she would then leave us alone but..."

"...T'soni," finished Grey.

Aki shook her head, regretfully. "I tried to play dumb, pretend that she wasn't here but... I'm not a good liar, and Vasir didn't buy it. She's giving us another ten minutes to give her up willingly."

Adam sighed. "Goddammit."

"Wait," said Tali. "This is Spectre business, right? It's the Council that wants her, not the Republics! She should be okay!"

"Hein did take custody of T'soni," said Brea. "With their permission, on certain conditions. Seems to me they changed their minds."

"That doesn't make any sense," said Adam. "If they wanted to bring her in, they could have waited until we docked."

"And that's why I don't think Vasir is acting on the Council's behalf," said Garrus. "You remember that briefing before Caleston? Hein said something that bothered me, about the Asari. I pressed him further later on, and do you know what he told me?"

"What was it?" asked Grey. "And is it relevant?"

"Maybe, maybe not. He told me that the Asari are in fact hoarding Prothean technology — way more advanced than anyone else ever finds — and only use it to keep an edge over the other races. He showed me a few things... patents with some interesting timing, but the pattern fits."

"So?"

"Well, think about it, T'soni's an expert on Protheans and she's sitting right next to a pile of Prothean artifacts that tell us far more about those that came before us than anything else. Vasir's not here on behalf of the Council, she's here to preserve Asari interests."

"And with Spectre authority she could kill us all to do it," said Adam.

"Yeah, I vote that we don't let her board," said Garrus.

"Seconded," said Aki. "Spectre or no, I do believe I have the right not to comply with her demands."

"Err, guys?" said Neil. "She's hailing us!"

"Talk to her, stall for time!" barked Adam.

"Okay, okay! I'll uh, see if I can fib my way out of this."

"Meanwhile," said Garrus, "Let's see if we can come up with a plan of action."

"We may have to consider giving up the artifacts and T'soni," said Grey.

"Excuse me?" Adam glared at him.

"We're well within hailing range of the Citadel — if we try to fight Vasir, all it takes is one communication burst and America will get caught up in a political shitstorm. Hell, not cooperating might put Nathan Frost's candidacy in jeopardy."

"I have to admit," said Brea. "Vasir positioned herself brilliantly."

"Adam, don't get us wrong," reassured Aki. "We'll do what we can, but we haven't got much leeway."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Lepída,"<em> said the Durendal pilot, his voice coming through the speakers next to Vasir's command seat. _"This is the Durendal. We err... I'm afraid we can't comply with your request."_

Tela Vasir, Asari Huntress and Council Spectre, had her feet up on a console as she adjusted the gauntlet on her dark blue heavy hardsuit. She sighed, wearily. She hated it when people gave her more trouble than what they were worth. "It wasn't really a request, Durendal. Sync your ship to my throttle and prepare to be boarded."

_"Ah, yeah, I'm afraid we can't do that at the moment you see err... The Durendal's kind of a Frankenstein monster of parts and they don't always get along. Throttle's busted. We can't slow down."_

"Oh really?" she turned to Baryn, her Drell pilot, who silently told her that the human helmsman was lying. Still, Vasir loved to play along. "So you're saying that your ship, which is a cruiser, is headed straight for the Citadel at near lightspeed? Do you know what that means, Durendal?"

_"It means you can't board us."_

"It also means I have every right to shoot you out of the black. You know, for the Citadel's safety?" Vasir nodded at Garmr, her gunnery officer — and, on the ground, her muscle — who promptly acquired a target lock on the Durendal and warmed up the _Lepída_'s three main autocannons.

"They're adjusting their course," said Baryn. "If they keep up like this they'll miss the Citadel by half an AU."

"Ah, smart boy," said Vasir.

Instead of the nasal tone of the Durendal's helmsman, a deeper, gruffier voice answered her. _"You destroy us, and you might blow some precious Prothean technology into itty-bitty shards. I get the feeling your bosses aren't going to like that."_

"What my bosses don't know can't keep them up at night," replied Vasir, chuckling. "Who am I speaking to?"

_"Captain Edward Grey, of the US Marine Corps."_

"Edward, I'm getting a little tried of talking to peons. Where the hell is captain Ross?"

_"Ross is trying to save her ship. I, on the other hand, am getting tired of veiled threats against a United States space vessel."_

"Just do what I tell you and I won't have to do something we'll both regret."

_"We don't have to do anything you tell us."_

"Err, yes, you DO. Spectre, remember? Or did you forget that your little nation signed the Citadel Accords as well?"

_"See, that's the thing, I don't think you're here as a Spectre at all. You could have had C-Sec stop us at the station instead of coming out here yourself. I'm thinking you're hounding us for your own benefit, not the Council's and that nobody will care if WE blow you out of the sky."_

Vasir laughed, "Okay, one, I can tell you can't bring any guns to bear on me. Second, I CAN have C-Sec stop you at the Citadel but..." she sighed. "...There's just so much damned paperwork involved with these idiots. How about you save me the trouble and just comply, hm?"

_"I think we'll just take our chances with C-Sec. At least then we'll be sure we're dealing with legitimate government agents."_

"Is that right?" Vasir got up from her command chair. "Look, It's obvious we got off the wrong foot, here. I can be very helpful: See, I hear your throttle is messed up? I take that means you can't shut down your FTL warp field?"

_"...That's what my pilot tells me."_

Vasir motioned at Baryn to get ready while she walked up to the gunnery station and tapped the controls. "I've got a little toy I managed to grab from a Turanic shipyard. This should help you slow down."

The _Lepída's _ordnance catapult spat out a glowing warp field jammer missile, and it detonated right behind the Durendal. Baryn slowed the corvette down, matching the decreasing velocity of the light cruiser.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Aw, shit!" shouted Neil. "Warp field is degrading!"<p>

"Get us back up to lightspeed!"

"Goddamnit, I'm a pilot, not an dark energy physicist!"

_"Durendal, Lepída. Do you have any engine trouble? Do you need assistance? Because I've got someone who can help you fix that faulty core."_

Grey hated to admit it, but Vasir had them cornered, now. It would take weeks to get to the Citadel, now, and so they were completely at her mercy.

"Can we get a distress signal out to the _Saratoga_?" asked Grey, hopefully, as he didn't want to give the Prothean tech to aliens. _America needs this advantage!_ "Or even the Citadel?"

"Tried! Long range communications are jammed!"

"Damn it!" Grey was just about to give up when a meter on the helm's console began to rise.

"Huh..." was all that Neil could manage at the sudden miracle.

_"Engineering to Bridge?" _asked the friendly voice of Conrad Verner. _"I fixed the glitch with our Warp field. We should be able to get back to Warp 0.92, now."_

Neil laughed. "Glitch?! Boy, you just shrugged off a Turanic Warp Jammer like it was nothing!"

_"...A what, now?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"You're probably going to hate me for saying this," said Adam, as he was suiting up.<p>

"No, don't you dare." Garrus said as he stopped adjusting his thrusters. "Shut your damned ape mouth."

"...But I'm glad Conrad is with us."

"...I hate you so much."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Alright, crew," announced Vasir. "It's only a matter of time before the Durendal complies and lets us board, or they try and fight us, in which case we'll shoot out their guns, drones, and GARDIAN turrets and they'll have no choice but to let us board.<p>

"The usual, then?" asked Garmr.

"Yep. Wait till we have the goods. Then kill them all—"

"Err, boss?" said Baryn. "The Durendal's accelerating again..."

"What the hell?!" Vasir checked her radar globe, and indeed the Durendal was getting away from her. "After them!"

"I am!"

"Go faster, you're letting them get away!"

"I'm trying, but our drive won't let us go past Warp 0.89 in Widow's gravity well!"

"So?!"

"The Durendal's going at Warp 0.96..."

Vasir's eye twitched. "Well, if there was any doubt that there' Prothean tech on the Durendal, they're gone now." She sat on her command chair, and brought up the communications window on her haptic interface. "Okay, Captain Grey. You want me to do this the hard way? fine..."

_"This is C-Sec Patrol, to whom am I speaking?"_

"This is Tela Vasir, Spectre, sending you my authorization code."

_"Code confirmed. What do you need?"_

"Flag the USSV Durendal as a Prothean artifact smuggling ship. Uploading ship's profile."

_"Upload confirmed. We'll be on the lookout, thank you."_

"Just doing my job."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After slightly less than two hours of staring at the sensor globe, Neil finally relaxed. "Well, I guess it's safe to say she's not going to catch up with us any time soon."<p>

"Somehow, I get the feeling this Vasir isn't done with us," said Doctor Ross.

"Well, whatever she's going to do, she's going to have to deal with the United States Navy and C-Sec. We're going to disengage cruise speed right on Vakarian's coordinates in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1..."

The Durendal rumbled a bit, like a tired old beast, as its drive core powered down and its attempt to break the laws of physics ended.

"Citadel Control this is the USSV Durendal we're approaching the station with intent to dock, requesting permission to—"

_"USSV Durendal this is Citadel Control," _the gruff turian voice replied_. "You are to come to a complete stop. Make no attempt to move towards or away from the station or you WILL be fired upon."_

"Control, Durendal: err, what?"

_"Durendal, Control: your ship has been flagged by a Spectre and is to be inspected for illegal possession of Prothean artifacts and other contraband."_

Just as Control said this, eight C-Sec PATCOMs disengaged from the mass of bright dots that surrounded the Citadel on Neil's sensor globe. They quickly surrounded the Durendal, and judging by their heat signatures their guns were charged and ready to fire.

_"The CSPS _Vigilax _has been dispatched to your location. You will allow it to dock or—"_

"—Or we will be fired upon, I got it, I got!" Neil rolled his eyes. "Coming to a complete stop and waiting for the men in the latex gloves, Control. Durendal out." Neil shut off the channel and turned to Doctor Ross. "Vasir."

"She pretty much spelled out she could do this," agreed Ross.

"Well, I hope the plan they came up with down there works. I'd hate for some Spectre to just come in and steal all our loot after everything that happened. She hasn't earned it!"

"I hope so. We're in the right position, right?"

"Right next to the scrapyard, like Jensen and Garrus told us."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>With her squad right behind her, Vasir boarded the Durendal. She had to go through the Vigilax and float through its forcefield conduit into the Terran ship's cargo bay, a bright orange pod that stood out like a sore thumb beneath the angular but sleek black hull. Inside she found a few Humans in uniform (with the exception of two men in civilian clothes), four Quarians (including a child, of all things), two Krogan, and a Volus... which was carrying the most adorable creature on its back.<p>

Also, and much to her dismay, there was a small army of C-Sec officers rummaging through everything.

Vasir collapsed her helmet into the back of her armour's collar when she spotted the captain of the Vigilax talking into his Omni-Tool, a lanky turian with an imperious air about him.

_Captain Vorenus Harken. Why oh why did it have to be HIM?_

"PATCOMs 1 through 6, you have my permission to investigate that distress signal," he glanced at Vasir, then: "Good hunting, Harken out."

"What the _fuck_ is this?!" growled Vasir.

Harken snorted. "_This _is a _fucking_ inspection." He paused. "Ma'am."

"I can see that! I gave Control instructions to stop the ship and to await my arrival before scanning or searching the Durendal!"

"Did you? Well, I don't recall Control telling me this. Must have slipped their mind." he sniffed. "In any case, we're looking through every little nook on this ship. If there's contraband or hidden artifacts of any kind to find, we'll find it, and when we do you'll be the first to know, I promise."

Vasir knew that wasn't likely. Harken was not corrupt, exactly, but he was quite ambitious, and he figured out that solving problems before Spectres could and taking all of the credit looked very good on one's _curriculum vitae._

_Well, too late, you little worm. _She thought to herself._ I'm here, now. _"You can leave. I'll take over."

Harken looked at her straight in the eye, and said one word that a Spectre like her wasn't exactly used to hearing from a C-Sec officer: "No."

"Excuse me? Do you know who I am?"

Harken's nostrils flared. "I know exactly what you are, and the minute I leave the ship we will have a diplomatic incident on our hands. Did you perchance miss the three rather large vessels parked near the Citadel? One of them won't take kindly to your antics. In fact, it probably won't be long before its commander will be told of this investigation. This is a delicate time, diplomatically speaking, and Spectre antics will NOT be tolerated. Is that clear?"

"Oh, perfectly... except you can't stop me from being here."

"No, I can't. But I CAN watch over your shoulder every step of your way and, since your Spectre status doesn't extend to your thugs, I CAN make them stay right where they are. If you have a problem with those conditions, feel free to contact the Council."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In her private office, sitting on a chair carved out of the shell a giant egg, Councillor Tevos double checked her schedule for today while a steaming cup of tea cooled on top of her ivory desk. She was feeling anxious: tomorrow afternoon, the first of many meetings between the council and the four major nations of earth would take place, and she would have to mediate between them all. It was almost guaranteed that the candidates would try to sabotage one another in some way, that wild accusations were bound to fly around, and that sooner or later Sparatus would open his damned mouth.<p>

There were other organizations interested in the upcoming selection trials: high profile members belonging to the WTO and the Order Church — that is, Chairman Chad Dumier and High Augur Lynn May-Chen, respectively — had come all the way from Earth to the Citadel. They had requested permission to attend the event, and Tevos was still on the fence as to whether or not to grant it. On the one hand, refusing them would no doubt cause them to take umbrage. On the other, letting them in could allow them to influence the proceedings in ways Tevos couldn't predict.

But, for today, there would be the relatively less volatile subject of granting members of the Enkindler faith unlimited rights to preach across every corner of the Citadel. The decision had been made already: No. On any other day the Council might have considered it, but as Valern pointed out, it wouldn't be long before the Order Church would ask the same. Unlike the Hanar, Order priests had no trouble following the Citadel's law on free speech zones. They even paid their tariffs.

There was a blinking in the corner of her holographic screen, and Tevos knew that bad news was coming.

She opened the encrypted chat session with Vasir.

Vasir: I've got bad news.

Tevos: I suspected as much. Did you secure T'soni?

Vasir: Not yet.

Vasir: I couldn't stop the Durendal before it reached the Citadel.

Vasir: Had to improvise and involve C-Sec to stop them from docking.

Tevos: They outran the _Lepída?_

Vasir: In a cruiser, yeah. Definitely using some kind of Prothean tech.

Vasir: But I've got Captain Harken and his goons crawling all over the ship now, looking for contraband.

Tevos: And?

Vasir: I was hoping you could make him go away.

Tevos: And if I did that, what would happen next?

Vasir: I'll do what I have to.

Vasir: There are plenty of areas of the ship we're not allowed to enter.

Vasir: Some bullshit about 'American technological secrets'

Vasir: Way I see it, if I neutralize the crew, then I can do my own search on my own time, and no door's going to stop me.

Vasir: Can't do that with C-Sec all over

Vasir: Too many witnesses to silence

Tevos: Can't you just scan the ship?

Vasir: Tried.

Vasir: It's a stealth ship: its hull seems to block sensor scans from the outside

Tevos: Damn.

Tevos: Sorry, if it were under better circumstances, I would let you operate as you saw fit

Tevos: But this is a delicate situation

Tevos: If you kill them, or try to breach their secrets, or both, the United States' ambassador will demand to know why one of their ships has gone silent and empty right on our doorstep.

Tevos: You'll have to work within the confines of the law on this. Don't make any more waves than you have to.

Tevos: You've already made more than I'm comfortable with

Vasir: I'll keep looking.

Vasir: And if I don't find anything I'll set up surveillance around the Durendal

Vasir: T'soni's the priority after all, right?

Tevos: Yes

Tevos: We can pressure Hein for the Prothean tech later.

Vasir: Remind me why some pale maiden is more valuable than a bunch of Prothean tech?

Tevos: I'm not privy to the Old Woman's reasons.

Vasir: Aren't we all? :)

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>His jaw set, Ryan Whitaker watched nervously as C-Sec officers went through his tools. Thankfully, none of the C-Sec officers seemed capable of putting the clues together, seeing instead pieces of scrap and unused equipment.<p>

And then the Spectre came along.

"Why, hello there..." said the Asari as she gave Ryan an appraising look from top to bottom, apparently liking what she saw. "What's your name, soldier?"

"Ryan Whitaker."

"And what do you do aboard this ship, Ryan?" Her voice was soft, and had a pleasant lilt to it. Ryan knew she was turning on the charm, but fortunately, he didn't swing that way.

"Not much. I'm a marine, not a sailor."

"Really?" Vasir tapped her chin. "It's a big ship, and with such a small crew. Figured you would have your hands full."

"The mechs do most of the work."

"Are you sure? That workbench you're leaning against looks like a custom job. Yours?"

"I use it, sometimes."

"What for?"

Ryan didn't see the point in lying about this: "I work on my team's armour."

"...Interesting."

"Knock yourself out."

Vasir skimmed through the workbench, and the lockers, but her interest was piqued when she found the box of scraps.

"What's this?" she asked, as she lifted a broken canister from the box.

"Gas canister."

"Bit large isn't it?" she sniffed it, "For a suit, I mean. I assume it was concentrated breathable gas that was in there?"

"Used to be," Ryan lied.

"Hm..." Vasir eyed the other scraps, then a nearby open locker, then left without saying so much as goodbye.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The search for T'soni wasn't going well: After her talk with Whitaker, Vasir had Baryn do a scan on the Durendal's hull, suspecting that T'soni was hiding <em>outside<em> the ship while everyone was focused on the outside, clad in a customized EVA suit.

"No lifesigns outside the ship," reported Baryn. "Sorry, boss."

Vasir was disappointed, but the Durendal still had plenty of little nooks to find, little nooks large enough for someone of T'soni's size to hide in. Said nooks weren't sensor proof, and before long nearly all of them had been found and inspected. That is to say, the ones C-Sec and Vasir had access to.

Again, no lifesigns.

The Spectre thought she would have better luck sneaking into the other half of the vessel, where the main gun was housed. Thankfully, Captain Harken had better things to do than keep an eye on Vasir, and it wasn't all that hard to pull away from him. It helped that her armour was coloured blue: it allowed her to blend with the other cops.

Inside the forward section, she found nothing, save for more titanium panels and cross beams. No power conduits, no rails, not even a light. A few quick sonar pulses from her Omni-Tool throughout the vast chamber reported that T'soni wasn't there.

_Now why would this Hein want this entire area closed off? _thought Vasir as she left the area.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Harken waited for this Jane Proudfoot to answer his question.<p>

Jane just glared at him.

Harken glared back.

Jane sniffed, not breaking eye contact.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"And you are?" asked Vasir.<p>

"Conrad Verner," said the sandy-haired human. Rubbing the back of his neck. He was nervous, Vasir could tell, but it wasn't so much a 'I'm doing something illegal' kind of nervous. More like 'isn't used to talking to gorgeous women kind of nervous'.

"And what do you do, here, Mister Conrad?" she put just the right accent on 'mister', and Conrad began to blush.

"I-I'm c-contracted to, ah..." he stammered. "...to DARPA as a consultant on Dark Energy Physics."

"There's a Dark Energy Physics lab on board this ship?" asked Vasir with genuine interest.

"Nope."

"So... again, what do you do here if..."

"Oh, technically I monitor the Durendal's Warp Field and log any anomalies, or tell the chief engineer when we're about to explode and die horribly."

"Speaking of which... I seem to remember the Durendal having a bit of a hiccup earlier."

"Oh, it was no big deal. You see..." Verner then explained what happened from his point of view at his station. Went on and on about arcane details on Mass Effect and Warp Field theories that completely went over Vasir's head. She was about to divert the conversation to another subject when Verner's talk about Cochrane equations caught the ear of an Asari C-Sec officer familiar with the subject, and then she introduced herself, and then there was no stopping either of them.

"So wait," said the Asari, "You figured out a way to counter an externally induced Warp Field breakdown?" That caught Vasir's interest immediately.

"Oh, is that what it was? I thought it was a fault in the drive core..."

"Can you show me what you did?" asked the Asari, eagerly.

The Durendal's drive core, while ingeniously and interestingly designed, was actually outdated compared to the Normandy's. As such, it was not top-secret, therefore C-Sec — and Vasir — were allowed entry into Engineering. Vasir watched as Conrad demonstrated to the fascinated Maiden how he countered her Warp Jammer, hoping that he would foolishly reveal the prothean artifact that he used to pull it off.

When the Maiden said that she would attempt something similar on another ship, Vasir's hopes were dashed. If she could pull it off on another ship without any specialized components, then there was no Prothean artifact connected to the Durendal's drive core.

_Or maybe he's making one hell of a bluff_, thought Vasir. She decided that this Conrad Verner wasn't to be underestimated, and that she would be watching him with great interest from here on in.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I'm a doctor," said the Krogan woman. Harken had never seen one before, and while she seemed just as muscular as the males of her kind, he had to admit, she looked a bit softer and gentler... even as she sized him up for a fight.<p>

"I thought that the Durendal already had a doctor," he said, his tone inquisitive and undaunted.

"Dr Ross is with the Navy, and tends the human crew. With DARPA now contracting aliens, they needed someone familiar with the biology of various non-human species."

"I've only seen Quarians and Krogan aboard, besides humans," said Harken, suspiciously. "Species known to be able to take care of themselves."

"True," said Bakara. "But there will others, and I've been told DARPA has certain standards when it comes to the healthcare of their employees, regardless of their resilience or self-reliance."

Harken nodded. "And your husband? Does he get DARPA health benefits as well?"

Bakara narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you even talking about?" Harken could tell she was repressing a growl.

Harken pointed at her bracelet. "That's a Krogan wedding band, is it not?"

Bakara said nothing.

"Urdnot Wrex..." Harken continued, "is somewhat famous in C-Sec, and I brought his file up as soon as I saw him."

"Ah, you're here to arrest him, then." Her tone was indifferent. Too indifferent, Harken noted.

"No. He's served his time. What I meant to say was that C-Sec did confiscate quite a few of his items and there's a matching bracelet close to the top of the list. He hasn't reclaimed any of them."

"...I see. Well, for your information, it's not a wedding band, it's an engagement band."

"Ah, I stand corrected then."

"Is there nothing else?"

"What's the hurry? Is there any reason you don't want to speak about your fiancé?"

"...I don't see how it's any of your business. Krogan tend to be private people."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Wrex glared at Vasir.<p>

Vasir glared at Wrex, credstick in hand.

Wrex belched.

Vasir frowned at the stench of Ryncol, and walked away from the door to Special Projects.

"Nice doing business with you," said Wrex. "Pft... a hundred grand..." he muttered under his breath, and he shook his head. _In my day,_ he thought, _bribes were a million credits, __**minimum.**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"We're not smugglers," said Grey, tersely.<p>

"I'm beginning to think that's the case..." replied Harken. "...except that there are whole sections your security mechs won't let us access."

"Would YOU allow a Spectre access to top secret areas of your most advanced warship?"

"...Probably not," said Harken. "Spectre authority only goes so far."

"Likewise, police authority can only go so far... without a warrant."

"I assure you, surprise inspections are well within our rights, according to Citadel law."

"Prothean artifact smuggling is that serious a business, huh?"

"You have no idea..." Harken paused, then started to bargain. "Look, this could all be a large misunderstanding between the Council and DARPA. All you have to do is tell me if there are artifacts aboard and that you have the proper permits, and we'll just leave. We'll even throw in a signed apology."

Grey looked at Harken straight in the eye. "There are NO Prothean artifacts in Special Projects. If your men go in there, all they'll see are classified American military secrets, after which I will be well within my rights to put YOU in my brig."

"...You realized that you're unarmed and outnumbered, yes?"

"I know." Grey smiled. "It's hardly fair for you."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I'm on to you!" said the strange young human in the tinfoil hat. "Your psychic powers won't work on meeeeeeee...!"<p>

Vasir simply shook her head as he ran away from her. Humans were weird, sometimes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Sure you must be interested in SOMETHING," asked Alistair. "How about some fine Dalmascan cotton? Cools you during those unbearably hot summer months."<p>

"No," replied Harken, for the dozenth time.

"A bottle of fine Archadian Ether? You know, for that extra biotic kick in your coffee?"

"No."

"A Goug Consortium Mark Seven pistol? Reliable and can stop a Krogan dead in his tracks!"

"No."

"A Maiden's Kiss?"

"...No!" Harken became a bit flustered, not quite understanding that the Pookah was actually talking about a potent stimulant.

"A Behemoth steak!"

"NO."

"An Elixir!"

"For the last time, NO."

"A _Mega_lixir?" Alistair insisted.

"...Do you even have ANY of those things?"

"Well, at this particular moment, err..." Alistair stared at his toes, sheepish. "...No. But if you're willing to invest in..."

Harken walked away in disgust, and completely forgot the questions he meant to ask the small, furry alien.

"You're missing out on a great opportunity!" Alistair shouted at the Turian's back.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Vasir was just about to send a few emails to set up surveillance on the Durendal and its crew when there was a rumbling that shook the vessel briefly. Alarm klaxons screamed all around her.<p>

"What the hell happened?!" Vasir shouted at Captain Harken, who was standing nearby in the middle of one of the central hallways.

"I don't know yet!" he shouted back, his voice barely heard over the noise of the alarm. "All hands, report! What caused that rumbling?!"

"This is Constable Eris!" replied an asari's voice. "Shem was about to open the door to ship's waste disposal when... well, it exploded, sir!"

"Is Shem alright?!"

"He's unconscious, but stable: he took the brunt of the blast in the shields!"

Vasir immediately hurried to Waste Disposal, as she had a feeling something fishy was going on.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Sixty years ago, Vasir had once managed to escape from a Vaygr missile frigate filled with fanatical warriors. The trick had involved some improvised explosives, a weakness in the hull, a very powerful Barrier, and a dozen furious tribals banging at the door. Once the tribals breached the door, all they found was a small, makeshift cargo bay open to deep space, and since they believed that Vasir had perished in the blast that had blown open a hole in the hull, they didn't bother looking for her corpse.<p>

They had been half-right about the corpse thing. Floating in deep space waiting for extraction with a few broken bones and a malfunctioning waste recycler in her suit had not exactly been fun.

Now, aboard the Durendal, she suspected that Manah T'soni and whoever else that might be protecting her had pulled the same trick.

That, or T'soni had committed suicide in an explosive fashion.

Helmet deployed and surrounded by vacuum, Vasir looked out of the gaping wound in the Durendal's hull, her visor highlighting whatever bits of debris they could catch. The remaining PATCOMs chased after the debris to tag them for the garbage tugs. It was standard policy: what was one man's speeding space garbage one century could become someone else's orbital bombardment the next, and that was something the Citadel Council was sensitive about.

Inspection had revealed what had caused the explosion: apparently, the Krogan Mercenary Urdnot Wrex had stashed a small barrel of concentrated Ryncol in Waste Disposal... close to a faulty power conduit. All it had taken was one arc of lightning and boom! Classic case of negligence and high explosive beverages.

Scans revealed no organic material that suggested someone was here when the bomb went off. Another dead end.

Vasir took a space walk in an attempt to try and clear her head. She hadn't failed yet, she told herself. She would set up some surveillance, and T'soni would come out of her hiding place aboard the Durendal, and maybe, just maybe, the Old Woman wouldn't have Tevos and her killed for taking so damned long.

"PATCOM Alpha 1 reporting," Vasir heard over C-Sec Patrol's encrypted channel. "Debris tagged for the garbage men. No rescue required,"

"Roger that," replied Harken. "More garbage for the scrapyard."

The Scrapyard was a relic of the Krogan Rebellions. When the Krogan officially declared war on well, everyone, they had started strong with a sneak attack on the Citadel itself. Giant asteroids had been hollowed out, filled with warships, and thrown at the Citadel. C-Sec Patrol had investigated those rocks, and a single scout pod had discovered an uncovered engine exhaust.

The response on both sides was immediate, and the first battle of the Krogan rebellions began, raged, and ended not 160 kilometres from the Citadel itself. 160 kilometres was a pretty long way to go on foot, but in interstellar terms it could be best described as really fucking close. The wrecks and debris of the battle had been gathered up with Mass Effect generators into a cloud of junk to be recovered and recycled later.

A thousand years later, the place was STILL there. C-Sec used the place to dump vehicles damaged beyond repair, while waste disposal services left their garbage bags and let the automated 'junkyard dogs' sort it out. Fleets of scavengers often tried their luck picking at the bones, while recycling companies tried to turn the scrap into something marketable. For some reason, neither of these enterprises panned out.

Unexploded Krogan munitions tend to put a damper on things, Vasir noted.

...She also noted that the Scrapyard was also a favourite spot for criminals to hide in. Hell, find a wreck with a room solid enough to hold air and you had yourself a nice little hideout.

_Everyone's looking that way_, thought Vasir as she floated away from the Durendal. _Me, the PATCOMs... even the one manning the sensor station aboard the Vigilax... at the debris from the explosion, Meanwhile, nobody's looking in the opposite direction... Towards the scrapyard, not even 15 kilometres away._

"Baryn?"

_"Yes?"_

"I need you to do a scan on the starboard side of the Durendal... check the airlocks."

_"Got it... huh."_

"Let me guess: frosted water crystals."

_"Yeah, on the second deck, near the middle."_

"Shit!" Vasir cursed as she worked the controls of her helmet. With maximum digital magnification on her visor, she looked towards the cloud of junk and, for a brief second, thought she caught sight of a jet of white gas.

Her biotics flared, and Vasir propelled herself towards it. "I've got her now..."

_"Want me to pick you up?"_

"No." Beneath her helmet, Vasir smiled. "Launch the Sciathán."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: MILITARY: POLICE: SPACESHIP: TURIAN: C-SEC: <strong>PATCOM<strong>

_Short for **Pat**rol and **Com**bat, the PATCOM is a term for a corvette — a small manoeuvrable warship — used by both the Turian military and police to patrol Turian space. Like all Corvettes, PATCOMs typically weigh around 2000 metric tons and are between 60 to 80 meters in length, though what sets them apart from the other ships in the class is their superior power output, shielding, weaponry, and sensor systems, which come at the price of exceedingly tiny living and cargo space. The four crewmen of a PATCOM require a great deal of discipline to live aboard the vessel for an extended amount of time. As such, PATCOMs are not very popular with civilian pilots, who prefer more comfortable corvettes such as the _Constellation_ or the _Luciole_._

_The most famous class of PATCOM is the _Venator_, in part due to its iconic design with its heavy side-mounted weapon pods, large drive exhaust, and its curved, wide, sleek hull (an oddity of typical angular turian ship design). It was also romanticized due to the large part it played during the Unification War on the side of the Independents, and was adopted by the Turian military on the merits of its (at the time) extraordinary performance. 80 years ago, the Venator had been replaced by the more cost-efficient _Vigilo_, though the older class is still in production today. _

_C-Sec maintains a large fleet of _Venator_ PATCOMs, donated by the Turian military._

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: ORGANIZATIONS: PARAMILITARY: POLICE: <strong>C-SEC PATROL<strong>

_Also known as Citadel Patrol, C-Sec Patrol is a division of C-Sec responsible for policing the space around and outside Citadel as well as the entirety of the Widow system, where the station (and several other of its support facilities) resides. _

_Founded by in 696 CE during the build up of hostilities that led to the Krogan Rebellions, C-Sec Patrol was initially called Citadel Defense, and was meant to serve as a defensive fleet for the large space station. This was a task the organization miraculously accomplished in 700 CE, when Overlord Kredak's declaration of war was followed by an attack on the Citadel using huge asteroids converted into massive warships. Thanks to a trap using one of the Citadel's gravity well generators set up by Salarian Spectre Beelo Gurji, Citadel Defense, despite being hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, was able to completely obliterate the Krogan Rock Fleet, though at great cost._

_After the Rebellion, Citadel Defense was integrated with C-Sec as a solution to the growing smuggling problem that plagued Widow. Being a police force, C-Sec did not have the funding necessary to maintain a large fleet of warships, and restructured its fleet composition to favour PATCOM corvettes and a few heavy frigates. A far cry from the fleet of cruisers that once orbited the Citadel, C-Sec Patrol is nevertheless a respected organization by the Turian military, which regularly donates materiel to it, and feared by criminals due to C-Sec Patrol's ability to coordinate a frightening response of powerful Venator PATCOMs on them._

_**Shadow Broker Notes: C-Sec Patrol veterans are being called upon by the Turian Navy as consultants to help with their restructuring efforts. Turians aren't the greatest of pilots, and hope to counter Humanity's swarms of high-performance strike craft with large fleets of corvettes. **_

_**See attached notes on Tempestas Multi-Gun Corvette Project.**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: HELMET GYRO SYNCING<p>

Most helmets that come with EVA approved hard-suits are equipped with a pair of tiny mass effect generators on each side that can apply a dynamic micro-gravity field near semicircular canals. Misnamed as 'Helmet Gyros', these devices effectively give astronauts on spacewalks a sense of up and down by picking a point in deep space and always gently 'pulling' towards it, regardless of the astronaut's current direction.

On their own, Helmet Gyros are not particularly useful except as training aids for Zero-G EVA work. When remotely synced to other helmets, however, they allows a group of astronauts to coordinate their efforts more effectively through verbal commands involving the words 'up', 'down', 'left' and 'right', and their synonyms. In Zero-G combat, this is essential for the proper coordination of a group of soldiers.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes: Picture any fair-haired male character Ayami Kojima ever painted for Castlevania. Odds are Ramsus looks a lot like him. Also, hey! Codex Entries are back!<strong>_

_**Now, I'm almost certain that 3d Bioprinting (an actual thing, look it up on wikipedia) isn't so terribly flawed in real life, but for the upcoming purposes of the fic, it has to be.**_


	53. Chapter 45: Almost Home part 2

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 45: Almost home... part 2.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Voice Cast:<strong>_

_**John DiMaggio as Marcus T**__**ân**_ _**Aderyn**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcus, along with a few others, had been given papers, a credit chit, and a quick shuttle ride off the <em>Saratoga<em> and onto the station.

"Alright, boys!" said the Marine officer just as they were about to land. Welcome to the Citadel — Five whole cities in one! The food sucks, but the hookers are legal, so it all evens out! You've got a whole day to see the sights, fuck some aliens, and then you come right back here at 0100 hours local time for your ride home. Now, intel suggests that a bunch of Ossies and Coolies are ALSO here, but this ain't our turf so we play nice. Don't hit them unless they hit you first, understood?!"

_"Sir, yes, sir!" _came the reply from the 20 marines in the shuttle, except Marcus, who was pondering what he would have for lunch, dinner and sometime in between. _Are there any good bakeries in the Citadel_? he wondered.

When the shuttle landed, Marcus was the first one out, and he didn't wait to be put with a group, since he had different orders: report to dock 514, await the Durendal's arrival, contact one Captain Edward Grey, and give him the transfer papers. He shouldered his duffel bag and grabbed Finn's cage, and made his way to the nearest customs checkpoint. As he did so, his fellow marines said a few things behind his back:

"Glad we don't have to work with THAT freak."

"I know, right?"

"Who's got the rotten luck of getting that moron as a support gunner?"

"The Deep Eyes, I hear."

"Ha! Well, never mind then!"

"They still around? I thought DARPA would have ground what was left to dust."

"How?"

"Testing a bunch of crap weapons, duh..."

But Marcus wasn't really paying attention to them, for he was quite taken by the awesome sight of the Citadel's arms. Why, as he looked up, there was another city up there, abuzz with its own activity, full of lights and people _and things! _He could barely contain his excitement, and hoped to see as much of the city as possible before the time of his rendez-vous.

He was also quite blissfully unaware that the Deep Eyes was considered by everyone in the Marine Corps to be a dishonoured unit. When Marcus had been told that the Deep Eyes operated _outside_ Sol, he gladly thanked his superiors for the opportunity, unaware that he was considered too large to join a Riflemen's unit and that he was too large to join the Cavalry, and that nobody else would take him anyway.

"Please step on the circle and hold still," asked the Asari C-Sec officer as Marcus approached the shuttle port's checkpoint. Marcus did what he was told, and waited while he was being scanned. He caught glimpses of the Silversun Strip from where he stood: advertisements streamed by on holographic billboards on tall buildings festooned with multicoloured rods of light. Casinos, arcades, restaurants, and even an Armax Battle Arena awaited him beyond the nearby exit.

"Finn," said Marcus out loud, "I think today's going to be awesome!"

"Arf! Arf!" came the happy, eager reply from the portable cage.

"Cute pet," said the C-Sec officer, smiling. "Alright, you're clear. Have fun out there, kid."

"HEY!" bellowed one of the marines — the one with a faux-hawk — behind him once the young private was through the checkpoint. "TRY NOT TO BLOW YOURSELF UP ON THE FIRST DAY!"

"Thank you! I'll try!" he shouted back, waving and smiling, mistaking derision for concern.

Marcus exited the small shuttle port, and took a deep breath of the fresh, reprocessed air. Silversun was a hive of foot traffic, but the marine had no trouble navigating it, as people preferred to keep a wide berth rather than stay in his way.

For all the sights on the ground, though, Marcus found himself staring at glimpses of the starry void and the bright nebula cloud that he could make out between the buildings and the gaps between the Citadel's arms, wondering how much farther it would be to Amaethon, and if the Durendal would take him there...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>More than a hundred kilometres away from the Citadel, 8 bodies silently sped through the dark, having been catapulted by the sudden decompression of an airlock and accelerated by blasts of cold gas. Their destination was a cloud of debris that surrounded one of the Mass Shadow generators, the ancient machines protecting the Citadel from FTL strikes.<p>

_"Alright,"_ said Garrus over the TEAMCOM. _"Get ready to fire your thrusters in the opposite direction... on my mark... in 3, 2, 1, MARK!"_

Plumes of white smoke burst from arm-mounted thrusters, eroding the inertia of the eight bodies, and eventually causing them stop at the threshold of the Scrapyard.

_"Wow. What a dump,"_ said Echo.

_"It IS a dump,"_ said Drebin.

_"It... feels more like a graveyard,"_ said Manah. Adam found himself agreeing with her. There was something unsettling about the sight of the wrecks, partially lit by the gloom of the Widow Cloud. They looked like beached whales, picked then torn apart by vultures then left to rot.

_"Right,"_ agreed Echo, _"and it's one hell of a dump. I don't think I've ever seen so much garbage floating in space. Lots of cover and places to hide. I like it."_

_"It wasn't always a dump,"_ said Garrus. _"At first it was more, as T'soni said, a graveyard. They even put a nice little memorial somewhere around here, to commemorate the first casualties of the Krogan Rebellions. Then people started tossing their garbage in there."_

Ramsus' laughter echoed through the TEAMCOM. He was floating not 5 meters away from Jensen, in a modified version of the Nyx hardsuit protecting him from the vacuum of space. The left sleeve, useless without a functional arm, was taped against his abdomen. _"So much for honouring the dead."_

Adam, with Manah on his back, looked nervously at the moving debris moving around the corpses of dead warships. All it would take is one wrong move and it would be all over. _"So we go in, hide in there for a while until the Durendal gives the all-clear... and then what?"_

_"We hijack one of the Junkyard Dogs,"_ said Brea.

_"The what now?"_ asked Echo.

_"Drones,"_ explained Garrus. _"The size of corvettes. They tug the wrecks back into the scrapyard if they stray too far. They occasionally return to the Citadel for maintenance. We get in one, do some techno-wizardry on it, and ride it back home."_

_"Sounds like a plan,"_ said Adam. _"So where are these junkyard dogs?"_

_"Right over... err."_

_"'Err'? I do NOT like the sound of that 'err'."_ Adam looked at Brea, who had come up with this plan along with Garrus.

_"...It seems we assumed that the drones would be easier to find in this—"_

"_This field of junk that's almost as big as the Citadel itself?"_ said Adam.

_"...Yes."_

_"I don't see what the problem is,"_ said Ramsus. _"If you can't go to your prey, bring your prey to you."_

_"What are you thinking?"_ asked Drebin.

_"As Vakarian said,"_ replied Ramsus. _"The Junkyard Dogs live for one thing. We make that thing happen, and they will come to us."_

_"...You mean displace one of the large wrecks,"_ said Brea.

_"Precisely."_

_"Idiot,"_ she replied dismissively. _"All we've got are cold gas thrusters, and we'll need what's left of those to navigate this place."_

Ramsus groaned audibly._ "For such a smart woman, you're sorely lacking in imagination."_

_"...There could be some fuel left in those engines,"_ suggested Drebin.

_"We wouldn't need much to get one of those wrecks moving,"_ agreed Garrus. _"An explosion would do... Or better yet! If we could get an engine firing... yeah, the Junkyard Dogs would come running."_

_"It's a far better plan than wandering and wasting propellant looking for drones that might not be close,"_ said Ramsus.

_"...Fine."_ Brea relented, but relunctantly. _"Let's look for an intact engine, of course, if we find one of these tugs on the way..."_

_"We know, we know..."_ said Garrus. _"Alright, everyone sync your helmets' gyros and HUDs to mine and follow my lead. Adam?"_

_"Hm? Yeah?"_

_"Are you going to be okay?"_

_"I'll be fine. Zero-G training's coming back to me."_

_"Yeah, well, considering you barely got a passing grade in Zero-G..."_ Garrus paused. _"...Be careful, alright? Don't try to pull off any advanced manoeuvres."_

_"I know, I know..."_

Garrus guided the group through the dense field of debris, making good time from large wreck to wreck. They inspected each and every single on their way, hoping to find something in semi functional condition. They eventually found part of a Krogan asteroid ship, with an engine sticking out of the rock.

_"That engine looks mostly intact..."_ said Garrus.

_"And made of millenia-old metal,"_ commented Brea.

_"The tank's ruptured,"_ said Drebin, _"but we can patch that with some Omni-Gel and a spare plate. All we need is some fuel."_

_"Guys!"_ said Echo, emerging from behind a pylon _"I think the engine room can still hold air!"_

_"I think we've got our bait,"_ said Garrus. _"Alright, everyone, this is going to be our little base of operation. Me, Adam, and Brea will go on the lookout for some fuel. Drebin will handle the patch, and Echo, T'soni and Ramsus will stay here."_

_"Hold on a second,"_ said Adam. _"I'm not leaving T'soni alone with him."_

It was then that Teg approached Adam and held out its three-fingered hand.

_"The mech has her covered, Adam,"_ said Brea, typing instructions to the machine with her Omni-Tool. _"And I think it would be best if I stayed behind to keep an eye on Ramsus. You and Vakarian have the most propellant, after all."_

Reluctantly, Adam motioned Manah to let go of him, then pushed her towards the mech. "Careful, don't gesticulate..." he instructed, as she floated away towards the robot.

_"Eeee..."_ Manah made herself small, as small as she could feel in her oversized EVA suit, and allowed herself to be caught by the robot. Teg was a bit brusque, but he brought Manah around without so much as bruising her, and she wrapped her arms around its neck. Adam double checked her grip: satisfied that she wasn't going to fly off any time soon, he formed up next to Garrus.

_"Hey guys!"_ Echo called out over the TEAMCOM before the two could leave. _"If you can, bring us some breathable gas — we could be here for a while after all, and we've only got maybe two hours of air left."_

_"Also,"_ added Drebin._ "We might need some power cells for the ignition lasers... and we might actually need a replacement ignition laser array, too... and a spare fuel pump. Too early to tell."_

_"Want an entire engine, while we're at it?" _replied Adam, sarcastically.

_"Hey, if you wanted a miracle with this relic, you should have brought one of the Quarians."_

_"We'll be on the lookout," _answered Garrus. _"Alright, partner. Let's put that Zero-G training to use..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam and Garrus explored the Scrapyard for about half an hour, looking for both fuel and air. During that time, Adam had managed to hit (by Garrus' count) three asteroids, two asari corvettes, six krogan attack pods, and seven pieces of miscellaneous junk. Each time, Garrus had to catch Adam and keep him from tumbling away into the void. The Turian didn't mind so much, as he had the most propellant since his OVO packs and plasma jets had been replaced with two cold-gas tanks and a pair of thruster nozzles. Eventually, Garrus' instructions sank in, and Adam had less and less trouble navigating a hazardous zero-g environment like the Scrapyard.<p>

_"Really regretting not putting more time in the sims,"_ said Adam.

_"We barely had time," _said Garrus._ "The criminals on the Citadel kept us pretty busy."_

_"And here we are, about to go back to that."_

_"...Honestly, after all the insanity we've been through, punching crooks will be a vacation in comparison."_

_"Yeah, no kidding..."_

Finding air had been easy enough: Adam managed to find the remains of an Asari frigate and pulled a full tank of breathable gas from deep within the hull. Asari air had a bit less nitrogen and a bit more oxygen than what humans liked to breathe, but not so much that it would make everyone feel light-headed.

_"Good find, Adam,"_ said Garrus as he scanned the canister in Adam's hands. _"That should keep us going for a while."_

_"That thing's maybe hundreds of years old," _said Adam as he cast his helmet's lights over the ship's hull, trying to decipher its name, marred by bullet holes and the impact of debris.

_"Close to a thousand," _agreed Garrus_. "But it should still work. Might smell a little stale, though."_

_"Any luck finding fuel?"_

_"Managed to find a power cell," _said Garrus, gesturing to a cylinder of his own. _"But no fuel."_

_"Damn. How are we doing for air?"_

_"We're doing fine, but we should be more worried about propellant. I still got plenty, but exploring this place is going to take more than we've got. We should pick our next target carefully."_

_"Hm..." _Adam paused to consider a moment_. "What are those, exactly?" _he pointed at one of the smaller derelict ships, which looked like some kind of jet-bike with an armoured cockpit, a machine gun, and a pair of missile pods. Judging by its bulbous shape and the way it was painted, it was most certainly a Krogan craft.

_"Krogan battle pod," explained Garrus. "Closest thing that the Krogan ever had to a fighter craft."_

_"It looks intimidating, but I don't think it could take on a space fighter. Bit too small..."_

_"Not meant to. Krogan were never really big on aerial — or spacial — acrobatics. The whole point of the battle pod was to transport a single Krogan soldier from point A to point B and do as much damage along the way. The Krogan could field thousands of those — it's barely larger than an actual Krogan, so it's cheap to make — enough to overwhelm any anti-aircraft defence. Once the swarm's fuel and ammunition was spent, the Krogan shock troopers inside the pods parachuted on the ground or boarded a vessel."_

_"...Casualties must have been INSANE."_

_"They were, but it's not like the Krogan cared at the time."_

_"They would breed replacements fast..."_

_"Right, and — people keep forgetting this — the Krogan also had one hell of an heavy industry. I mean, look around: there's thousands of those pods drifting all over the scrapyard."_

_"...Is that right? What kind of propulsion did those battle pods use?"_

_"Fusion pulse torches..." Garrus sensed where Adam was going with this. "Forget it: look at this pod: it's mostly intact, so that means its pilot ditched it. There's no fuel in there."_

_"Maybe not in this one, but there's bound to be plenty of pods that didn't get a chance to spend all their fuel."_

_"... it's possible."_

_"Let's look for a battle pod with a punctured cockpit, then."_

They didn't have to travel far to find one: as Garrus said, Krogan Battle Pods were all over the Scrapyard. Adam investigated one of the ancient craft, and pulled out its long dead occupant out of the back of the cockpit. _"Sorry, old timer,"_ he said to the armoured corpse. _"Need a look inside..."_

_Let's see, _he thought as he peered inside the machine, _the fusion torches are mounted under the seat and to the sides... next to the center of mass... so let's follow those tubes and... there. _He pulled out a pair of cylinders made of a thermally non-conductive material, strapped together with tape, both still connected to the engine through a pair of tubes. He shook them a bit. _"Doesn't feel empty," _he said to Garrus.

_"That's because it's not," _replied Garrus, already scanning the tank with his Omni-Tool._ "There's 67 millilitres of liquid Helium-3 in one tank with 64 millilitres of deuterium. Be careful... Liquid Helium-3 is very, VERY cold."_

_"How about we just pinch off the tubes and then cut them from the engine?"_

_"That's probably the way to go, yes. Here, let me do it..."_

A minute later, Adam and Garrus had recovered the fuel without spilling any out into space. "We need about ten litres of the stuff to get that monster of an engine to burn long enough."

_"Let's get scavenging, then. But first..."_

They topped off their air tanks by using the Asari gas canister, and proceeded to go from battle pod to battle pod, recovering any fuel tank with so much as a few millilitres of fuel. Before long Garrus had stuck close to 20 fuel cans together with Omni-Gel, and pulled them by wire. the load was getting a bit too much, as the cannisters were pretty heavy, even empty. Thus far, they had gathered maybe six litres of fuel, but their luck began to run out along with their propellant, as fewer and fewer intact Battle Pods were being found, let alone intact fuel tanks.

And then, Adam struck gold, so to speak. He came across a chunk of an asteroid ship. On one side, it looked more like a huge chunk of rock, but on the other side there was scaffolding and fuel tanks. He had just found a refuelling dock for battle pods, capable of servicing a hundred of them at a time.

It was too bad it suffered a strafing run, nearly a thousand years ago.

_"Not a single fuel tank here that isn't riddled with holes," _commented Garrus as he tied the stack of fuel tanks to a nearby crossbeam_. "Not that we could have carried one of those back to the engine. They're all pretty large."_

_"Maybe, but there's bound to be a pod around with a full tank."_

_"Even if we don't, six litres should get the job done."_

Much like the tanks, there didn't seem be a single intact Battle Pod that hadn't been thoroughly perforated by a Salarian autocannon... until Adam found one that didn't seem damaged at all._ "Well, I'll be damned. Vakarian, look at what I found!"_

_"Huh. Not a single scratch... Think it's got a full tank?"_

_"Let's see..." as soon as Adam touched the Pod, its lights pulsed to life, and the screens inside the cockpit flickered on. _

_"How did you do that?" _asked Garrus, but Adam wasn't quite listening to him, as he was already inside the cockpit, playing around with the controls.

_"According to the HUD, it does, and seeing as there isn't a red blip on the startup screen, I think it's still fully functional. Even the weapons work."_

_"I would prefer it if we didn't mess around with millennia-old munitions, you know?"_

_"Still, how about a ride?" _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>As the Relic of an ancient war detached from the wreck, something was watching it from the shadows of an hollowed out Asari cruiser.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Teg was moving a freshly cut plate of metal into place for Drebin to weld it onto the damaged fuel tank, Manah found herself staring out in space, wondering about the battle that had taken place here so long ago. Then, she wondered about the Citadel itself: it occurred to her then that she had never seen the vast space station before. She knew she would have a close enough look at it soon enough, but the chance to see it from far away may not present itself again. Before she could ask her leave, Garrus Vakarian spoke over the TEAMCOM.<p>

_"Hey everyone, we managed to get our hands on seven litres of fuel, some breathable gas, and a power cell."_

_"And we also found a Krogan Battle Pod in working order,"_ said Adam. _"We're using it to transport the tanks to save on propellant."_

_"Good to hear,"_ said Drebin. _"We just finished sealing up the fuel tank. Say, what kind of engines does that 'Battle Pod' have?"_

_"Small fusion torches, looks like."_

_"Good. I might be able to cannibalize some much needed parts out of them. Good job."_

_"Thanks. We'll be there in... huh."_

_"What is it?" _asked Brea, who had been listening in even as she kept a weapon trained on Ramsus.

_"...I thought I saw something move."_

_"It was probably just some debris," _reassured Garrus_. "A lot of stuff keeps moving around because of the mass shadows."_

_"...Right, better keep an eye out, though. ETA 5 minutes."_

_"Excuse me..."_ said Manah, sensing her opportunity to finally speak. _"May I go outside?"_

_"No," _said Brea, flatly. _"Stay in the ship."_

_"But... it's so dark in here..."_ she pleaded. _"I won't go far, I promise."_

_"Considering you've got a priceless Prothean artifact strapped to your suit," _added Brea_, "I would prefer if you stayed right where you are."_

_"Aw, come on," _said Echo._ "Let her grab some sunshine."_

_"And it's not like I need Teg right now," _agreed Drebin as he started taking a look at the fusion drive's_ ignition chamber. "I don't see any harm in letting her go outside for a bit."_

_"...Oh, fine," _Brea finally relented._ "But I'm instructing the mech to stay within ten meters of the entrance."_

_"Oh, that's quite all right!" _Manah replied cheerfully._ "I just want to get a look at the Citadel."_

_"Yes, well, good luck with that."_

Teg fired his thrusters and brought Manah just outside the crust of the Krogan rock ship and, as the mech had completely understood what Manah had said earlier, brought her in an ideal position to see the Citadel, past the rocks and the wrecks that littered the Scrapyard. It hung there among the stars, past the line that seemed to divide deep space and the huge cloud that glowed with Widow's light. Its five wards, each thirty kilometres long, gleamed in the dark as thousands of little lights hovered about, some blinking, some unmoving. Starships, she realized. Probably more than she had ever seen in one place at once, ever. She noticed a red rectangle approaching the mighty space station, and wondered what it was.

_**That would be the **_**Agamemnon****_. Yang Wen-Li's super-carrier. As you can see, even when compared to the Citadel, it is quite massive at five kilometres in length. I wonder if they serve real Chinese food in the mess hall? I could eat._**

_"Who said that?"_ asked Manah, frantically looking around for the source of the voice inside her head.

_"Who said what?"_ asked Brea.

_"...I thought I heard someone say something."_

_**Brea can't hear me. I'm not speaking to her.**_

Manah wondered if she had gone mad.

_**No, you are neither psychotic nor schizophrenic. Come now, surely you haven't forgotten my voice?**_

_Ramsus? _she thought. She looked at the strange human, clad in his white armour. He was floating there, unmoving, as if enjoying a warm bath.

_**Yes, it is I. I was hoping if you were in the mood for a chat... the voices in MY head aren't really as pleasant as yours, and not capable of very scintillating conversation.**_

_What voices would those be? _thought Manah.

_**...Can't you hear them? Don't you know what happened here?**_

It occurred to Manah that while she had encyclopedic knowledge of the Protheans, her knowledge of more recent galactic history was quite lacking.

_**To sum up, when the Krogan started their doomed Rebellion, they started with a Trojan Horse attack. It was stopped when a Spectre tampered with one of the mass shadow generators and trapped the Krogan fleet inside a gravity storm. The Citadel's defence fleet moved in to engage them in close combat and won. What the history books and the Codex fail to mention is that once you're inside a gravity storm... there's no getting out.**_

Manah then heard loud whispers in the shadows of her mind. She couldn't make out the words, but the emotions laced in them... rage, despair, panic... those were all too clear.

_**When the battle was... 'over', the storm still raged, and any attempt at rescue was doomed. For months the survivors struggled for meager resources: energy, food... AIR. Eventually the storm subsided as the Mass Shadow Generator resumed its proper function... though the shredded remains of warships still clung around it like a stench. **_

_This cannot be true, _thought Manah. _Can it? If history hasn't recorded the facts, how could YOU possibly glean them?_

_**You're. Not. LISTENING. This place is filled with the echoes of the damned, who are doomed to replay their torment forever...**_

_**LISTEN TO THEM.**_

The voices became a tidal wave that washed over Manah and blasted her with a thousand screams

_HELP US PLEASE_

_My brood_

_The Atalanta is going down_

_Cold_

_The witches are trying to flank us_

_Is this our reward_

_Citadel please respond _

_Not like this_

_Fire Fire Fire_

_Stop breathing my air_

_BRACE FOR IMPACT_

_It's so cold_

_I'm sorry I'm so hungry and you're dead I'm sorry_

_STOP BREATHING MY AIR_

_Why did she abandon me_

_FOR TUCHANKA_

_Curse you Spectre Curse you Curse You CurSe YOU_

_"T'soni, you okay?"_ asked Echo over the TEAMCOM._ "You're gasping for air... is your tank ruptured?"_

_"I-I I am all right!"_ replied Manah out loud, gulping hard. "_I just... I think we need to get out of here, and soon..." _

_"Yeah, working on that,"_ said Drebin.

_"Ms Brea? I've seen enough. I think I would rather be inside."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus watched as Brea instructed the mech to bring the Asari back inside the rock ship's husk. He sniffed, smelling the copper scent of blood: his powers had waned considerably, and transmitting his thoughts into another had required far more effort and focus than before... enough to cause him pain.<p>

He saw Jensen and Vakarian approach in their commandeered little ship, with the tanks in tow far behind, to prevent the engine wash from the battle pod from damaging them, then he watched as Manah practically leapt away from the Mech and into Adam's arms. She said she wanted to explore the inside of the vessel, and the custom clone joined in for the hell of it.

And then, Ramsus felt something tingle in the side of his skull. He looked around, and could have sworn he saw the blur of a shadow of a Luna Moth, between two rocks and a fractured fuel tank.

_"We are being watched,"_ he said, finally.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Although a threat failed to manifest itself, Ramsus' warning had convinced everyone to hurry up with the engine's repairs. Drebin hit a bit of a snag when he discovered that a few of the lasers in the ignition chamber were non-functional, and he was just about to start cannibalizing the Battle Pod's engines for parts when Adam, Manah and Echo returned from the depths of the asteroid ship with, of all things, a spare ignition chamber with a full set of functioning lasers. Switching it out for the damaged one had proven easy, and as Drebin loaded a drop of deuterium mixed with helium-3 into it he asked the trio how they had managed to find it.<p>

As it turned out, it was Manah that had led them to a storage room with various spare parts. How she had managed to find it in the vastness of the ruined warship, she had not shared... though Ramsus snickered meaningfully at her evasiveness.

It was fortunate, too, as sparing the battle pod had provided the team with some much needed transportation away from the soon to be reactivated engine. The Pod had plenty of handles on its hull for the team to hold on to, though Manah had to ride on the backseat.

Once Adam drove the Pod well away from any potential danger, Drebin activated his Omni-Tool, and a big glowing holographic button appeared on his wrist with the word 'IGNITION' printed on it. "Lasers are fully charged. Who wants to do the honours?"

_"Well, you are the one who did most of the work,"_ replied Adam._ "It's your show."_

Drebin pressed the button, and almost immediately the lasers fired at the center of the ignition chamber, where a single millilitre of fuel turned into a purple fireball, kickstarting a chain-reaction that powered magnetic accelerator solenoid coils. Said coils funnelled purple fusion plasma out of an aerospike nozzle, providing an incredible amount of thrust.

Slowly, the chunk of rock the ancient engine was attached to began to move.

_"Such a lovely colour!"_ commented Manah cheerfully.

_"You'd think the Krogan would prefer a manlier one,"_ said Echo. _"Like red, or something."_

_"Huh,"_ said Drebin. _"It actually worked. Krogan were better engineers than anyone ever gave them credit, it seems."_

Brea was not pleased to hear this. _"Wait, you were expecting to FAIL?"_

_"It's a thousand year old fusion drive,"_ replied Drebin. _"I honestly figured it would explode as soon as the fuel ignited. Even then, the rock would have been pushed off."_

"_Then why did you even bother fixing it? We could have—"_

_"This is better,"_ Garrus cut Brea off. _"The longer the engine goes, the longer the dogs will have to stay and try to move the wreck back into place. Should give us a larger window of opportunity."_

_"Speaking of which,"_ said Adam. _"I think I see them coming."_

From the shadows of the Scrapyard emerged seven cube-shaped vessels, all covered in rusty orange paint scratched and chipped at the edges to reveal the titanium underneath. Each had a pair of rotating thruster pods that spat blue plasma out of their nozzles. There were eight of those unmanned, automated ships, and the team watched as they swarmed over the moving wreck. The nearest Junkyard Dog had already opened its two huge crab claws, the inside of which were lined with mass effect generators, ready to clamp down on the rocky surface of the Krogan ship.

The ships took their positions at several key spots on the mighty hulk, and it was then that Adam got a better idea of their size, relative to the gigantic, four hundred meter long chunk of rock: the Dogs were each around thirty metres to a side, which meant that there should be plenty of room to them hide in one... provided they could access a maintenance hatch.

"Go, go, go!" urged Garrus as the Dogs fired their engines, trying to tame the ship they were attached to. Adam flew in close to one of them, careful to avoid its engine wash. Garrus was the first to leap off the pod, and he forced the maintenance hatch open, his muscles assisted by the thick Carbon nanotube cord of his modified Seraph Armour. While he had little hope of putting a dent on the ship's thick impact resistant armour, the lock on the hatch was another story entirely.

_"Ever heard of lockpicking?"_ commented Brea.

_"Couldn't see a lock to slap Omni-Gel on,"_ said Garrus as he peered inside. _"Hm, not very roomy in there."_

_"Hard to believe... This thing's the size of a house,"_ said Adam.

_"Yeah, but it was never meant to have a crew,"_ replied Garrus. _"Still, there's enough room in the computer core for the lot of us. It's also the coolest part of the ship."_

Echo went in first, eager to start the hack, and Brea was next, pushing Ramsus in at gunpoint.

_"See anything?"_ Adam asked Garrus, who was walking on the Junkyard Dog's hull, scanning the area for enemies with his eyes alone, the Longinus in hand, ready to fire.

_"No."_ The turian sighed. _"I wish our suit's scanners came with better range... and there's so much movement out there its hard to spot anything."_

_"You guys worry too much,"_ said Echo. _"Anyways, Drebin and I finished hacking this thing's brain. We convinced it that it's time to return home for a tune-up."_

_"The way to the Citadel is going to be a bit slow,"_ warned Brea. _"There's no inertial damper or artificial gravity or even chairs in this thing. If we accelerate too fast..."_

_"We know, we know,"_ dismissed Echo. _"Anyways, we're ready to go when you are, Adam."_

It was actually Manah's turn to go into the ship, after everyone else had gone. Adam gently pushed her out of the Battle Pod's cockpit which, for some unfathomable reason, left the pilot's back completely exposed to the void of space. Teg was at the Junkyard Dog's maintenance hatch ready to receive her.

_"Careful,"_ said Adam.

Manah's reply was static.

_"Can you read me?"_

More static, this time from everyone. Adam caught Brea's eye and tapped the side of his helmet, and she replied in kind. _Something's jamming us_, thought Adam, but before he could complete the thought Manah flared with a biotic aura, and the next thing he felt was a dozen shockwaves exploding all around him, and the last thing he saw was a mechanical butterfly streaking by.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam had no idea how long he had been unconscious when Garrus shook him awake. He could make out his name through the static as he opened his eyes. His partner had opened his helmet's face plate, revealing the polarized glass inside. As he tapped it, Adam knew that he had to do the same.<p>

As Adam pressed his helmet against Garrus', he couldn't help but think about how glad he was that Verner wasn't around to misinterpret the whole situation.

_"Argh...what happened?"_ asked Adam out loud, his voice vibrating through the glass.

_"We got attacked,"_ replied Garrus. _"I don't know by who and what... all I know is that it was very fast and very blurry and packed a lot of firepower."_

_"No, the ship! Is everyone—"_

_"The Dog's severely damaged, Echo and Brea are unconscious and wounded, but stable. Drebin's trying to get the Dog working, but Teg is down for the count."_

_"And T'soni?"_

_"She isn't here. Whatever attacked us grabbed her, along with Ramsus. They're gone, Adam... I'm sorry."_

_"God damn it..."_

_"Hold on, there might be a way to track them down. The Mech grabbed my gun when I was knocked away by a stray missile blast — it managed to land a hit, and I'm pretty sure he hit something important. Could have been a fuel tank, or something, but we can track it using the Battle Pod... the sensors still work, right?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>With Garrus riding on the Battle Pod's side, Longinus in hand and ready to fire, Adam navigated the ancient Krogan craft, tracking a thin trail of mist that stood out like a river of fire on the Battle Pod's cockpit's orange monochrome CRT screens.<p>

In space, there was no top speed: the only thing that mattered how much fuel you burned before reaching light speed... and Adam had spent a lot already, and spent some more adjusting his course around debris. Adam may have been a terrible space walker, but years of driving a shitty old car with inertial compensators that broke down every other day had made him a competent pilot.

"_Drebin here_," said the Omar through a TEAMCOM channel laced with static. "_Can you guys hear me?_"

_"I read you three by five, Drebin,"_ replied Adam. _"What's your status?"_

"Whoever attacked us got really pissed when we tried to make a run for it... starboard engines are ruined, and we lost a heat sink along with the primary sensor dish and much of the hull. As for the crew, well... Echo's still out of it, but I think Brea's waking up. Teg lost its right arm, but its still functional. How about you? Manah threw you pretty hard."

_"She did? Why?"_

_"She saw the attack coming before we did. If she hadn't pushed you away those missiles would have annihilated you."_

_"I see... I guess I owe her one. Drebin, can you hijack any of the other Junkyard Dogs?"_

_"They're long gone, Jensen. The one we got isn't a complete loss, though. I can reorient the port engines and get plenty of thrust, but I'll be flying half blind. What's the plan?"_

_"You good for air?"_

_"That tank you got us should last us a day."_

_"Good. Stay where you are for now. We'll try and find whoever attacked us. If we go silent for an hour... then leave without us."_

There was a hiss of pain over the channel, and Brea's voice rang through it almost clearly. _"...I don't suppose I can convince you to put a lid on the heroics for now?"_

_"No,"_ replied Adam. _"Seeing as your two most valuable assets just got kidnapped, I thought you'd be all for getting them back."_

_"Yes, but seeing as our two best weapons are an ancient glorified jet bike and a Seraph power-suit nearly out of propellant, I'm thinking we should regroup. Whoever captured T'soni wanted her alive, obviously. We can track her down."_

_"Maybe you're right, but I'm not giving up just yet. Did you get a good look at our attacker?"_

_"Sorry, but no."_

_"Check the Mech's memory!" urged_ Garrus. _"It managed to land a hit on it, so maybe it got a good look?"_

Brea considered Garrus' suggestion for a moment. _"Possibly... Let me check."_

A few seconds later, Teg came on the channel, and warbled a strangely familiar stream of beeps in Adam's ear. His HUD requested that he accept an incoming data packet, and once he did an image appeared in the corner of his vision.

It was a woman, connected to a pair of nacelles and wings through a backpack with mechanized arms, all conspiring to give her the shape of a blue metallic Luna Moth, stained with white paisley motifs. The actual earth insect, as Adam recalled, lacked the long, blue glowing tail that the machine was sporting... and easily reminded Adam of Hannibal's own sword tail. The whole thing was about as large as an aircar, and yet had managed to severely damage a ship ten times its size.

A woman in blue armour that just jammed their communications before attacking and singling out T'soni for capture. It wasn't hard to hazard a guess who had attacked them, based on those two facts alone.

_"Vasir,"_ concluded Adam.

_"Has to be,"_ agreed Garrus.

_"That trail is getting denser. I think we're catching up."_

_"What's the plan?"_

_"I'm not— whoa!"_

Upon seeing the sleek gleaming hull of the _Lepída_, Adam spun the battle pod around to reverse thrust and bring it to a complete stop. The Asari corvette was just drifting there amidst the debris, not reacting to Adam and Garrus' presence at all. And its crew should have certainly reacted: the Battle Pod should have been a bright dot on their thermal sensor readouts by then.

"_Adam, what's happening?_" asked Brea over the TEAMCOM. "_Are you all right?_"

"_We're fine_," replied Adam. "_We've found Vasir's ship."_

Brea couldn't believe what she was hearing, by the sound of her tone. _"What, it's just _parked_ there?"_

_"Near as I can tell, no one's at the helm,"_ replied Adam. Just then, a stray piece of debris hit the corvette, and was knocked away by a blast of blue energy. _"Shields are still up, though, as are the tracking lights."_

_"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that Ramsus killed everyone aboard,"_ said Garrus.

_"Then why hasn't he called for help?"_ asked Brea. _"Or just flew the ship out of here?"_

_"Well, let's find out." _Adam accelerated the Battle Pod towards the corvette, approaching it from behind, where the GARDIAN laser coverage was negligible — or so he hoped.

_"Jensen..." _Brea began, but Adam cut her off.

_"I know, I know," _Adam's tone was dismissive._ "'T'soni and Ramsus are important assets and you must do everything you can to save them'. Tell the Broker not to worry."_

_"...Good," _replied Brea, a bit disappointed._ "I mean, it's good that we're on the same page."_

_"Though if Ramsus tries to kill us, I'll shoot him dead. Fair warning."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>They entered through the corvette's cargo bay, as its doors were open, wide enough for Adam to bring the Battle Pod for a landing. Though the ship's artificial gravity was online, it seemed that the large chamber they were in was completely devoid of air. That wasn't a good sign. The flickering lights and bullet holes on the curved while walls were even worse.<p>

On other hand, the ship's WLAN was still active, and Adam breached it while Garrus investigated the immediate area. "Well, that's no good," he said, disappointed. "I don't see Vasir's fancy jetpack anywhere."

From the look of things, some of the crew here had attempted to put together a force cage. Something had interrupted them, of course, and violently.

He then turned his attention to one of the handful of dead bodies on the ground: a Krogan in heavy armour in desert camouflage. He was laying just under a deep dent in the wall, the glittering of which reminded him of something. He scanned the hull with his Omni-Tool, and realized that the _Lepída_ was protected by _Silaris_ class armour. Judging by the Krogan's fractured skeletons and ruptured organs, it was obvious that someone had thrown him so hard it put a dent into something that could shrug off an autocannon round.

_"Think Ramsus did this?"_ asked Garrus.

_"No,"_ replied Brea over the radio. _"He no longer has the implant architecture necessary to pull something like this off."_

_"T'soni could do it," _supplied Adam.

_"T'soni doesn't have any implants either,"_ dismissed Brea.

_"That didn't stop her from helping me fend off a Templar Wanzer,"_ Adam countered. _"Looks like this Krogan tried to get fresh with her and paid the price,"_ he added, with a hint of pride.

Adam commanded the ship to close the cargo bay doors. Breathable gas rushed back in, its hiss growing louder and louder until the pressure reached a full atmosphere. Adam and Garrus' suits slowly replenished their air tanks automatically. The lights came on, illuminating the scene and the blood on the walls.

There had been 19 people crewing the ship, and according to the data relayed from their Omni-Tools to the central computer, they were all dead.

More reports came into Adam's head. Auxiliary power was at 99 percent, but the main reactor had been deactivated. Adam quickly looked into the security cam feed in engineering. The Salarian in charge of keeping the engines going had stuck his head in the ignition chamber. The other video feeds confirmed what the computer had already told him. Corpses, corpses everywhere, and no sign of T'soni.

Or Vasir.

_"I think I see Ramsus,"_ said Adam. _"He's in the sickbay."_

_"From the sound of things the ship looks secure," _said Brea. _"We're headed for your current location. We'll arrive shortly."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam commanded the door towards the center of the ship open, and in the hall they saw a dead Drell. The ship's pilot, by the look of his outfit.<p>

"Three shots," said Garrus as he examined the body. "Two to the chest... one meant for the head, but it went a bit wide. Pistol caliber, judging by the size of the holes."

"Too clean. Not Ramsus' style," commented Adam.

"Who else could have done any of this?" said Garrus. "By the look of things it sounds like he drove the crew nuts."

"Maybe... but if he could have done that, he'd have done it to us first. We are holding him prisoner, after all."

"Well, we can ask him when we get to him."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Ramsus woke up from his unpleasant slumber as stimulants coursed through his veins, only to find the business ends of a revolver and a particle rifle aimed straight at his face. It took a moment for him to get a good look at the people behind the weapons, and he breathed a sigh of relief, then let out a chuckle of amusement.<p>

"Well, at least you didn't slap me awake this time."

Adam and Garrus said nothing, and just watched him.

"Ahem! Could you untie me?"

"...Remember what happened the last time?" said Adam.

Ramsus stared down at this restraints on the medical bed. "Do I look like I'm in any position to masturbate?!"

"Not that one," said Adam, coolly, his gun steady.

"I will destroy you?" said Garrus. "Remember?"

"I was hungry at the time!" protested Ramsus. "And angry! Which I _will_ be if you don't put those weapons away and free me!"

Adam removed the straps while Garrus kept Ramsus covered. The human psionic, unthinking, tried to massage his wrist, only to remember that one of his arms was a useless metal prosthetic. One of Hein's jokes, Adam suspected.

"I was hoping you could tell us what happened here?" asked Adam, displaying holograms of the various corpses using his Omni-Tool.

"Well, don't look at me," protested Ramsus as he sat up, wincing in pain. "I barely had time to unravel that one's soul." He nodded to the corner, where the Quarian doctor was slumped. From the looks of things he took a scalpel to his face. "And that took nearly all my strength before..."

"...Before what?" asked Garrus.

"Before... Manah. What happened to the girl? Is she safe?"

"I haven't been able to find her on the ship's sensors," said Adam. "Or Vasir, for that matter."

"Is that the one that attacked us? Interesting. What would an Asari Spectre want with the girl?"

"What would an Asari Spectre want with _you_?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I was caught quite by accident. I tried to help Manah as Vasir snared her with that glowing appendage on that exoskeleton of hers... only to get myself tangled in it too. Vasir tried to shake me off a couple of times, but I held fast. I suppose she wanted to know how managed it, hence why I'm here..."

"So you claim you didn't kill the crew?" asked Garrus.

"If you don't believe me, check the ship's security footage," suggested Ramsus.

Adam used his connection to the ship's WLAN to do so, and skimmed through the footage across the entire ship for the past hour. There was no audio, as Vasir didn't want to be eavesdropped on by her own security, but the images were worth a thousand words.

First, Vasir came in for a landing, a panicking Manah and an unconscious Ramsus in tow. Then, once she disengaged from her machine, she began barking orders, biotically manhandling Manah all the while. Two crewmen came to recover Ramsus and dragged him to the infirmary, while another four came along with the parts of a force cage meant to contain her. Vasir proceeded to telekinetically tear off Manah's pack and her helmet.

Minutes passed. Vasir went to visit the pilot, no doubt to set a course for somewhere far away from here. Though judging by the caressing, it seemed that the Drell was a lot more to Vasir than just a lackey.

"Sorrow," said Ramsus, snapping Adam's attention back to Manah, who was trapped in her cage, crying. "Terror, the kind felt by the condemned upon sighting the hangman's noose... or the executioner's axe."

A Turian and Krogan hovered about her cage for a while, until finally the turian bid the Krogan to watch over him as he opened a section of the force cage. Manah backed away, terrified, the Turian's intentions all too clear to her.

Suddenly, the video became completely scrambled... for a split second, and then the Turian was simply... gone. The Krogan behind him became visibly agitated, and pointed his shotgun at T'soni, demanding answers. That was then that Manah flared bright purple and the Krogan met his fate against the wall.

"The terror was like a wave," said Ramsus, his eye fluttering and rolling back, "A song? A signal? That, alone, drove the crew mad with sorrow..."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>At the center of the Scrapyard was an ancient machine, that looked like the claw of a beast that held, at the tips of two digits, a black pearl. But it was no black pearl... it was a singularity, a sphere of shadow with a corona of blue light that, long ago, had trapped thousands of lives in this place.<em>

_**But then something heard the call, and replied...**_

_The corona brightened, and glowed with a burning golden light._

_**...With unparalleled rage!**_

_And elsewhere, twenty souls screamed, while one was granted power._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam watched as Vasir went to investigate the commotion, and as the static moved from place to place the crew died in its wake. Then, it was as if the static chased Vasir herself, and the Spectre was forced to kill some of her maddened crew.<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The corona ebbed, and resumed its blue glow.<em>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The static dispelled, and Manah stood in the cargo bay, gun in hand, covered in blood, and utterly confused. Then Vasir came into view, and kicked Manah in the back, knocking her down. Vasir, furious and angry, kicked her again, this time in the belly, and another time in the knee, and in the head. Adam took count of every strike.<p>

"Garrus," he said. "Take note. Seven times."

Garrus, who had been watching, nodded.

"Seven times," said Ramsus with a smile, knowing what Adam intended. "I shall remember, as well."

When Vasir was done, she put Manah's helmet back on, put the pack containing the Promethean Grimoire in a compartment in her exoskeleton, and flew off with Manah in tow.

"Damn it all to hell..." Adam cursed, then transmitted to Brea. _"It's me. We've found Ramsus, but T'soni... Vasir took her away."_

Garrus handed Ramsus his helmet back, so that he could listen in on the conversation.

_"...I see,"_ said Brea, after a moment's pause. _"That mechanized jetpack of hers... do you think it's FTL capable?"_

_"I doubt it."_

_"Then she probably took her to the Citadel. I'll see about putting a few feelers out but... Adam? Your position as a detective will be useful in finding her."_

_"I know. How close are you? The sooner we get home, the sooner we can get to tracking her down."_

_"We'll be there in five minutes. In the meantime, plant a few tracking viruses in the corvette's computers. If Vasir intends to leave the Citadel, it's likely she'll try to get this ship back. When she tries to recover it, we'll know, and we'll be able to track her down."_

_"Silaris Armour isn't cheap,"_ agreed Garrus.

Adam got to work, but couldn't keep himself from worrying about what he had just seen, and what Ramsus had just said.

_Manah... what are you, really?_ wondered Adam, remembering that far away look she had had when the static faded... and wondered if perhaps, just maybe, if the Justicars had been right in keeping her locked up. Despite this, he could not help but worry about her safety.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcus had been told by the tour guide VI that, for what he had in his credit chit (which he thought was a lot, but things were REALLY EXPENSIVE HERE) his 'optimal chances' for a nice night out (or was it day? Marcus couldn't tell on a space station, and clock made no sense) was to be in the upper wards. When Marcus asked the VI what she meant, she said 'as far away from the Presidium Ring as possible (after various other explanations that made no sense to him).<p>

The area easily reminded him of the poorer parts of Fort Monus, where Marcus grew up. Where it not for the sense of nostalgia, Marcus would not have stuck around. As it was though, he suddenly really wanted to find a court to practice his blitzball moves, then get a snack (or snacks) find a nice bench to sit on and just chill out with Finn.

There weren't any blitzball courts in this part of the Citadel, apparently, which surprised Marcus, since blitzball was the greatest sport ever. But there was ice cream and hot dogs here, and benches, so two out of three wasn't bad. As he sat down, he let Finn out of cage, and shared his meal with him.

After the sixth hot dog, Marcus burped, and checked his watch, and remembered that he was still on Hoffman Island time, and wondered if he was too late or too early to go see the Durendal.

That was when a trio of teenagers with knives asked him for all his money. Marcus, being a very nice guy, gladly gave them a bill of 5 US dollars and a couple of quarters (even though Finn growled at him not to — silly Finn didn't understand charity, you see). The trio then said that they wanted his credit chit, and Marcus explained to the nice people that if he gave them his chit that he would have no more money, and that he needed it, and that the five dollars should be plenty enough for ice cream (Marcus, of course, didn't understand that paper money was worthless on the Citadel) and that they should really be at school (or was it their bed time? Clocks made no sense here!).

When the largest of the trio pointed a knife at him, Marcus thought he was trying to give it to him, so he grabbed it by the blade and took it. When the boys saw that he wasn't even cut, they screamed and ran, though one of them made off with his duffel bag.

"Oooooooooh... I get it now!" exclaimed Marcus. "You guys are robbers,_ ja?_"

Finn barked just then, pushing Marcus' blitzball with his nose. Marcus took it, tossed it, and... didn't kick it, remembering that the Citadel was spinning. He tossed it up again, and kicked it gently, and the ball soared into an arc that ended with the kid that stole his duffel bag. "GOOOOAAAAAL!" he shouted victoriously, as Finn ran up to the fallen crook and bit his ankles.

As Marcus got his bag back, he found himself laughing, that is until the kid cried for his mommy... and that had made feel kinda sad, so he left him a Corneto (because Cornetos always made everything better).

Hungry for more adventure, the young private went further and further away from the Presidium ring, and deeper into the Upper Ward (why did they call it that? Marcus didn't know). He then thought that maybe it was time to find a place to stay, before getting sidetracked by more food — Greasel on a stick, that is, grilled over a trash can. It was tasty, and he asked for seconds.

Finn barked, and at first Marcus thought he wanted his share, and apologized, and said he would get another. Finn barked some more, and pointed its nose up.

"Ooooooooh, an air show?" exclaimed Marcus, as he saw some kind of small plane doing tailspins in the sky (or was it space? It was hard to tell on a space station). It was shaped like a pretty bug, the kind that girls like to catch in nets. Other people around him looked up, and oo'ed, and ah'd, right alongside him, and clapped alongside him, as they found his mirth infectious and thought that perhaps this day wasn't going to be so bad, unlike all the other days.

Then, bursts of blue light popped around the plane, and then it went for a nose dive.

Finn barked, and whined.

"Aw, don't worry, Finn, it's all part of the show! Just as its about to hit the dirt, the pilot will pull up just in the nick of time! You'll see! Any time now..."

The plane kept going down.

"Any time now..."

The plane kept going down.

"...Any time now!"

The plane was certainly not going to pull up.

"...Uh oh."

The plane inevitably crashed, to the horror of everyone who saw. Marcus, inappropriately enough, was besides himself with excitement.

"Ooh! Explosions!" he said giddily, as the shockwaves gently washed over his ears. "Explosions means adventure! Come on, Finn! Let's be heroes!"

While people were running away from the scene, Marcus (and of course, Finn) happily ran towards it.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>With bullheaded determination, Marcus (and Finn, let's not forget him!) went through the dust and the crowd of people that had gathered around the crash site. The plane had apparently hit an old abandoned warehouse, inhabited by a handful of squatters. It was old, and on fire (even though it was mostly ferrous concrete) and crumbling into pieces. Marcus heard screaming, and knew that he had to hurry, because screaming people were people in need of help (usually, but then again some people liked to scream for no reason like that weird old lady down the street from where Marcus used to live).<p>

He was quickly proven right, as he saw three people around a pile of rubble, trying to remove bits and pieces from it and failing. It took him a moment to realize that the people were a wife and her two children, and that there was someone under the rubble they really needed to get to.

"Dad! Dad!" screamed one of the children, a boy.

"Go!" groaned the father, who had stopped struggling under the rock. "Please, save yourselves!"

"Don't you dare!" screamed the mother. "Not after everything."

**"I GOT THIIIIS!"** bellowed Marcus so loudly the children screamed out of terror, thinking a monster had come to eat them. He then, quite easily, lifted the largest and heaviest parts of rubble off the man. The poor man's leg was broken, but his wife, who was quite strong herself, propped him up.

"Oh thank you, Mr. Hulk!" said the other child, a girl.

"Thank you so much..." said the father, as his wife carried him away on her shoulder.

"It's what heroes do! Isn't that right, Finn?"

No bark in reply came, and Marcus looked around for his little albino Welsh Corgi in vain. "Finn? FINN! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

"Arf! Arf!" barked Finn, over the roar of flames, the crumbling of concrete and the buckling of steel.

"FIIIIIIINN!" shouted Marcus, desperate and worried, as he chased the barks of his best friend ever. Most of the floor had collapsed down into the basement, and Marcus hadn't hesitated for a second to leap down there, even though his gravity harness was set to 1.80 Gs. The concrete shook when he hit the ground. "FINN! WHERE ARE YOU!"

"Arf! Arf! Arf!" came the reply, but before Marcus could follow the sound, two men rushed at him, one of them carrying a case. He stepped on a puddle of glowing blue liquid, and fell screaming, scattering the contents of the case on the ground.

"NO!" screamed the other man, who desperately scrambled to pick up the vials of drugs, not caring one bit about the fact that his friend was disintegrating into a cloud of floating blue embers. "NOT THE SHIT! NOT THE—" he screamed as he touched a puddle with his fingers, and suffered the same fate as his friend.

"...Okay, that's going to the vault later," Marcus told himself. "In the meantime, no touching the blue lava OH GOD FINN DON'T TOUCH THE BLUE LAVA!"

"Arf! Arf!" The barks came from near the crashed plane (which looked like a _butterfly_! Marcus always had trouble with his insects...). Marcus saw his dog trying to pull at something with his teeth, and just then a piece of the ceiling fell, and a shaft of moonlight (or was it sunlight?) shone at that something... Which was, as it turned out, a big spacesuit.

Finn pawed at the helmet just as Marcus was about to grab him. The cracked faceplate hissed, and opened, and for a moment of the roar of the flames and the crumbling of concrete and the buckling of metal became silent. Time slowed down as Marcus beheld what he, at the moment, believed to be the most beautiful woman in the entire world...

... Even though her face was covered in blood.

"...huuuuurrrrr Pretty!" he blurted out after an eternity, thought only two seconds had passed. He wasn't quite sure what he was here to do any more...

And then more blue lava came out of the plane, and the puddle slowly approached the girl (which was a bad thing, because as we know...)

"AW, CRAP! BLUE LAVA IS BAD!" Marcus shouted as he tried to untangle the girl in the space suit from a very spiky looking cable. Realizing that it would take too much time he grabbed the cord with both hands and snapped it apart. He picked up the girl like a groom picked up their brides (which kinda made him blush, but now was not the time to think about such things) just in time before the growing puddle touched her.

"Finn, I got her, now come on! We have to get out of here!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Marcus, with the girl in his arms like a groom with his bride (hee hee) leapt out of the second story building (as he had overshot it on account of his harness being off) and landed right outside, looking like an awesome action hero as he landed, then walked away like a badass (yes, a badass!) from a burning building.<p>

It then occurred to him that there was no way his dog could leap from the basement to the second floor window, and that Finn was probably still in there, and that was not badass at all (in fact, it was pretty bad, but not in a good way) !

Then Finn leapt out of the first story window, and walked away from the burning building as it crumbled down completely, like a total badass (an ADORABLE badass)!

"Aw Finn! That was badass!" exclaimed Marcus, as his best friend ever walked up to him. "What's that you got there, boy?"

Finn let go of the stone tablet in his mouth, and said "Arf! Arf!"

Marcus knelt down to pick it up. "Ooh, treasure! Think its hers?"

"Arf!"

"Yeah, I think so too..." he said, as he pocketed it. "We'll give it back to her once she wakes up."

"Arf?"

"Finn, no! That would be stealing. Unless she's dead. Then it's looting! And that's... only slightly more okay. Or not. I'm not sure... Oh, the cops are here!"

Marcus and Finn's ears perked up at the distant sounds of the sirens, and perked up even more when the girl groaned something.

"Adam..." she murmured. Marcus wondered if that was her name, and realized that was stupid, and then wondered who this Adam was supposed to be.

"...Don't let them take me..." she murmured, and then Marcus thought she meant the cops.

_Now Marcus, that probably means she's a crook, _Marcus' brain said. _And your daddy always told you that you shouldn't punch cops in the groin and point them towards crooks (which she probably is)._

To which Marcus' heart, which was much bigger than his brain, countered with:_ She's pretty and I like her!_

So of course, Marcus took her away from the crash site, and away from the cops.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had planned on Adam and Vasir having a dogfight, but this chapter was beginning to drag on, and some of you are probably getting anxious to get back to the buddy cop adventures of Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian, Ace Detective. Adam rescuing her, well... we already did that, didn't we?<strong>

**So, instead, let's have some more cosmic horror, and wash that away with the run on sentences that compose the thought process of yet another new character in this roster of crazy people.**

**An aerospike nozzle probably would not work on a fusion drive... or in the vacuum of space. I'm no engineer. But hey! It looks cool!  
><strong>

**Oh, and three guesses as to what _**T**__**ân**_ _**Aderyn**_ means ;)**

_**~[h+]~**_

"Aw crap, where's my duffel bag!" yelled Marcus.


	54. Chapter 46: In Sheep's Clothing, part 1

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 46: In Sheep's Clothing, part 1

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Executor Pallin is voiced by Michael Ironside<strong>_

_**Amelyssan is voiced by Carice Van Houten**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Aboard the half-ruined Junkyard Dog, the way to the Citadel had been mostly quiet. Echo had tried to make light of the fact that they had gotten some pretty good loot out of the Spectre's corvette, most notably, a case with three Spectre Master Gear weapons. Drebin had offered to 'launder' the guns, but neither Garrus or Adam were interested in them right now. Manah was on both of their minds. In Adam's because he had failed to protect her, and Garrus' because he knew Adam would have a hard time with that failure.<p>

Besides gear and loot, they had also found canisters of a deadly neurotoxin, ready to be deployed via breaching missile upon the Durendal.

Adam added an objective to his AR display:

—_Thank Conrad for saving us all_

There had been a lurch when the Citadel's gravity began to assert itself, and then a crawling feeling of pressure on everyone's skin as they entered the vast station's atmosphere and their suits auto-adjusted to the change in pressure. Knowing that there would be a lot of curious technicians at the _Dog's_ landing dock, there was a limited window of opportunity to disembark safely.

So, a minute before they landed, they were forced to jump off. For Echo and Brea, the fifty meter fall had to be cushioned by high density gas, while Garrus simply fired the last of his cold gas at just the right time, spreading frost all over (and giving him some ideas for some new tactics). The rest, being mostly mechanical, simply landed on their feet with a loud thud.

The group split up, with instructions to lay low but keep in touch until the Durendal landed. Brea had given Echo and Drebin false IDs so as to not arouse suspicions with C-Sec. Ramsus, however, would be staying close to Brea, as nobody trusted him to behave himself on his own.

"Where will you go?" asked Adam.

"To a safehouse," she simply replied, and took a stance that telegraphed she had no intention on elaborating.

"Ah," Ramsus smiled. "Just you and me all alone—"

Brea shocked him, activating a little feature in his suit Hein had added 'just in case'. "And of course, Teg will be providing extra security. Go home, Jensen. Get some rest."

Adam had wanted to do nothing else, but first, he needed to disguise himself. The '108' entering Adam Jensen's apartment would be a pretty big clue as to its true identity, and that simply would not do.

_When did I start thinking like a superhero?_ Adam asked himself as he stole a tan longcoat and a small bag to put his helmet in. He left some platinum on the store's counter, near the register, then left under cloak, not once seen by the store's security cameras.

Outside of his apartment's building, Adam saw that that the spot where the AIA agent he had killed last during their attack on Brea had been cordoned off. Nobody could quite explain what the twelve piles of organic sludge, plastic an metal were doing inside, but pedestrians outside had borne witness to the fact that one of them had been a heavily armed human man. That wasn't much to go on, and no doubt the event was still under investigation.

Adam also took note of the sign outside, that said that a one bedroom apartment was available for rent._ Someone must have left_, he thought. _Don't blame 'em, either._

Once inside, he saw more cordons glowing in the dark, but saw no one on patrol to keep passers-by from tampering with the scenes. Most likely, they had been pulled away to provide security for the big event at the Presidium.

The elevator had a big OUT OF ORDER sign stuck on it, forcing Adam to take the stairs up, and just before entering he saw that a shrine had been put in place there. Quite a few little offerings had been placed around a portrait: pictures, mementos, and card that all said 'farewell' on them. They were all for Mettius, the turian boy the Blacklight soldiers had so callously killed and 'sanitized'.

"I'm sorry, kid," he muttered. "I should have been faster." _And Brea should have gone somewhere else, _he thought bitterly.

_...Do you know how many men and women and children SHE has killed..?!_

_How many, simply as a consequence of her actions? _Adam shook the thoughts away. He just needed to get some sleep, and tomorrow he would report what he could to Pallin, and start looking for T'soni. Adam hoped that by then Brea would have something to go on.

Alas, things would not be that simple, he knew, when his omni-key failed to unlock his apartment door. He hacked into it, and there he found absolutely nothing. None of his furniture, none of his clothes, none of his computer hardware, and none of his most precious personal effects.

"...Fuck."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"The hell are you talking about?" asked the landlord, rubbing his eyes and on the verge of a yawn.<p>

"You heard me," said Adam tersely, in no mood for any bullshit.

"The men you hired to move your stuff came and _moved_ your _stuff_! They got your signature on the paperwork and everything!"

"I didn't hire anybody! You got scammed, and now MY stuff is—"

"Hey, scammers don't leave small packages for the people they steal from!"

"What the hell are you even talking about?"

The landlord beckoned Adam to follow him to his office — actually the desk in a living room littered with discarded fast food packaging— and fished something out of his drawers. It was a small sealed metal box, the size of a matchbox, with Adam's name on it and the word 'OPEN' written in fine calligraphy. Adam pried it open easily, and inside he found a key and a note with an address on it. The note was signed 'AB'.

Before seeing those initials, Adam thought Hein had just played one of his jokes on him, but now it seemed it was Aya Brea that was toying with him.

He tried contacting her. No reply.

With nowhere else to go, he decided to head for the address.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The cab dropped him off right at the doorstep of Tiberius Towers, a luxury apartment building in the middle of the Silversun strip, one of the more opulent parts of the Citadel. It catered to the needs of those with a bit too much money in their wallets and too much time on their hands, and Adam hated it: It reminded him far too much of the Neo-Seoul Arcology. Terran Marines from the OCU, the UNAS and the EU were walking about, trying to decide where to spend their cash for an unforgettable shore leave. Some of them had already spent it all on a holographic three-card monte scam run by a Vorcha.<p>

As the entrance doors slid closed behind him, shutting out the noises of a street that never slept, Adam was hit by the clean manufactured scent of the Tiberius Towers' atrium, meant to evoke memories of a garden in spring. The white marble walls were being polished by small robots, while a finely dressed Asari receptionist — who pulled double duty as security guard, judging by her muscles and the gun resting on her hip — sat at her desk, staring a holo-screens. She quickly noticed Adam, gave him a well practiced smile as he approached, and greeted him.

"Greetings, mister...?"

"Jensen."

"Ah, of course, our new resident. Do you have your key with you?"

Adam gave it to her, and she gave it a look, scanned it, and typed a few commands on her desktop computer. "Third turbo-lift on your left," she said, handing the key back. "twentieth floor, last door on your right."

"Turbolift?"

"Much faster than the standard elevators. You'll be there in less than five seconds. Oh, and here's the key to your parking spot... and your car."

"I have a car here?"

She gave him a curious look, then smiled again. "Yes, and it's quite a fine craft sir. The latest in the X3M series."

"...I see. Thanks."

"You're entirely welcome, sir."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Less than five seconds and a short walk later, Adam entered his new apartment.<p>

Then, he left his new apartment, with a duffel bag full of the personal effects he could not do without.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Here you go," said Adam, as he tossed the apartment keys to a bum. He had given the middle aged, haggard and dirty human one look before determining that the man didn't have a drug habit. He was, quite simply, underfed. "Fridge is full and the place is paid for. Knock yourself out."<p>

The old man stared at the keys, utterly confused.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hey kid, got your driver's license?"<p>

The teenager, loitering in front of the pod hotel, was taken aback for a moment, then replied: "Uh... yeah?"

"Show me."

The boy displayed his card. Adam, satisfied that it wasn't a fake, tossed the car keys to the X3M skycar. "Tiberius Towers, parking floor 1. Have fun, kid."

The weary cyborg cop entered the hotel, checked in, and went into his sleep pod, still wearing the 108 under the raincoat. He closed his eyes, looking forward to the relative normalcy of the life of a police officer. He wondered how Pallin would react to his story up to now, just before sleep took him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Something was wrong about this place.<p>

More so than usual.

At the center of the forest in which oily shadows would stalk him and disembodied echoes would damn him, Adam found a clearing. The cold dirt had been corrupted and there were bits and pieces of ancient Promethean architecture which, apparently, favoured walls of smooth sandstone and glass partitions framed and inlaid with silver. The pieces floated all around him, disintegrating into the ether and reintegrating into the dream world.

Then the voices came, but they were not addressing him.

"Papa! Papa!" shouted a girl happily. Adam wanted to believe that it was Sunny calling to him, but he knew better: the voice wasn't the same. "Look at what I found! It's... It's... It's a bug!"

"It's a butterfly, child," replied a woman. Her voice, he recognized immediately.

"Fahl...?" Adam called out loud, but no one replied to him.

As Adam went further and further into the clearing, the parts of the building materialized more often, and for longer, until it was almost complete... at least, in his immediate vicinity. Beyond the walls, a nightmare still waited for him.

The building, Adam realized was actually a home, a mansion, meant to be surrounded by gardens, its halls illuminated either by sunlight and moonlight. None of these existed, and yet the walls were lit as if it was high noon on a bright summer day. The rush of waterfalls and the flow of rivers could be heard, unseen and far away.

"What is this place?"

"Agartha..." said Aleph.

Adam found the Promethean in the center of what looked like an atrium combined with a meditation chamber, floating gently above the ground in what looked like the Lotus position. Behind him was a great tree, around which floated hundreds of tiny embers of light.

"...or, more precisely, the palace I built for my family, on the island of Agartha, on a world with a name I have long forgotten."

"...You had a family?"

"Is that so strange?"

"...No, I suppose not."

"I've been dealing with quite a bit of data coming from you..." said Aleph, as he landed on the ground and stood up. Just as he did, the palace dissolved, and he and Adam stood in deep space, with the Presidium Ring just besides them. "We've come back to Sigil, have we not?"

"If you mean the Citadel," replied Adam. "Then yes... but you're missing a few things..." Without really thinking about it, Adam willed the Wards into existence, and set them around the Presidium in their iconic configuration.

Aleph eyed the additions curiously, then: "One of the greatest constructs in the galaxy, and you simply name it 'The Citadel'? It seems the people in this cycle are a bit lacking in imagination..." before Adam could comment on that, Aleph continued: "And these cities... it seems there were some additions done, when I last saw it."

"So wait, the Citadel was once called Sigil? And it was just the ring?"

Aleph nodded: "Long ago, yes."

"What was it like, at the time?" asked Adam, as they walked the empty streets of the Presidium as Adam knew them.

"...Less sterile," said Aleph, after a moment's consideration. "There was less metal, and far more stone and wood, and flesh and bone."

"...Yeah, this is a space station, I really don't think wood and stone would—"

Before he could finish, Aleph spread his arms wide, and then it was as if time slowed down on his whim, stopped, and began to move backwards. Buildings came and went in the blink of an eye, each a snapshot of the times, until they became stranger and more alien to one another. Smooth crystal spires shared the same neighbourhoods as homes of brick and mortar. Time resumed its journey forward, and Adam became surrounded by a crowd of a multitude of aliens he had never seen before. He looked up: the ceiling with the fake sky was gone, replaced with an endless void the color of the sky. Past the swarm of Starships of finely wrought metal and Spelljammers grown in the belly of great beasts, a barren planet made of sand and rock hung in sky.

"Is the station orbiting that world?"

"Actually, it is orbiting the station. The mass shadow of Sigil was much stronger back then, strong enough to create an atmosphere the size of a planet... and pull a world into its embrace."

Adam had to admit, that was really impressive. "Son of a bitch..."

"Sigil," Aleph began. "The city of doors. After the Messians retook Gaia, our homeworld, my siblings and I had been sent out into the galaxy to find the Gaian ships that had escaped beyond the bounds of the Origin system. We didn't quite understand what we were doing when we used the Void Rail the Akasha Lords had used to escape, and... well, we were scattered. I was lucky... the tides of the void brought my ship here."

"The city of doors?" asked Adam. "I take it that name's pretty significant?"

"It is as you suspect: Sigil was the very center of a network of gateways that ran through the entire galaxy. Some were the size of keyholes, allowing but a peek into a different world. Others were the size of whales, through which large trade vessels could come through. It was a vibrant place and... it inspired me. Sigil was proof that myriad creatures and cultures could come together in one place, interacting and sometimes even merging to create something new, and in peace."

Just then, a insectoid attacked a giant bear, stung him unconscious, and claimed a measly handful of Macca as a prize.

"Peace. Right." Adam shook his head. Some things never changed.

"Relatively speaking, of course," admitted Aleph. "Compared to the centuries-long conflict that plagued my world, that was nothing. But even a small crime can inspire a greater good."

They kept walking for a time, and Adam could feel himself relax. This was actually a wonderful change of pace from his usual nightmares.

"So you didn't build this place?" asked Adam. "Or the gates?"

"No," replied the ancient construct. "Sigil was ancient when I was young."

"Well, the gates aren't around any more, obviously... I take it that's because of Nazara?"

"Yes, but mostly because of me. When Nazara became manifest, the Void became unsafe to travel through. I..." Aleph stopped himself when he saw a circular building, not even two stories high but topped with a crystal dome. Long red banners had been set on each side of an arch, on which was painted a white flower with five petals. "I remember this place..."

"Yes," Adam found himself agreeing.

**"This is where I met my wife,"** they said in unison.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Fascinated by the music that comes out of the door, suspicious of the symbol emblazoned on the banners, and disheartened with your lack of success in finding your siblings, you decide to enter. Inside, past the heavy iron doors, you are immediately greeted by the smell of incense, and the sight of varnished, wooden walls supported by pillars of ivory and decorated with various framed paintings. The central Atrium, through which the other rooms of this establishment could be reached, is blessed with a garden filled with beautiful flowers that you recognize to be from the wilderness of Gaia. At the center was the start of a great oak, and you can already imagine how its branches will eventually caress the crystal dome that lets the sunlight in. <em>

_The various alien patrons, from both middle and upper classes, are sharing lavish couches with various women of different species from around the galaxy, happily and passionately discussing various subjects such as warfare and religion and even games. They speak of other things you are not familiar with, such as 'art' and 'games'. From one of the rooms you can hear a woman shouting abuse at a man, who seemed to revel in countering with insults of his own. "What a coincidence!" you hear him shout, "You fight like a dairy farmer!"_

_You think you can hear the clanging of metal. Were they dueling with swords, as well, you wonder?_

_Your observations come to an abrupt end when your eyes come across a stunning golden-haired woman with cream coloured skin, wearing an azure and blue dress decorated with white spiral patterns at the hems that keeps her chest and neck covered but her shoulders bare. The front of the skirt is cut open to reveal a layer of elaborate white lace that matched her cravat, and dark blue calf-length baggy pants. Her ankles are decorated with the straps of her sandals, which barely cover the toes or the heels._

_Her most striking feature is her mismatched eyes: one of them was as the azure of the skies of Gaia, while the other was the colour of spilled blood. With them she surveyed the entire place with a slight smile..._

_...She is easily the most beautiful woman you have ever seen._

_Her second most interesting feature, midnight black wings with feathers tipped with bright cyan, along with her large curved horns and long tail, remind you suddenly that she is a Gria, one of the brood mares of the Gaian Horde. You become incredibly aware of the blades hidden in your forearms. It would only take a moment to slay her: You could just casually bump into her, bury the blade in her vile heart. You scan the area for others of her kind, as you suspect she's kept one of her sons to guard this place. You need to be careful: you lost much of your gear to the Void, and a confrontation with an Ogre could prove dangerous._

_She sees you, and approaches. She opens her mouth to speak, and you can see the tips of a pair of long, sharp canines. "Well met traveller! How..." she stops for a moment as she sees your own most striking feature: the green glow of your own eyes, that cuts past the shade of the hood of your cloak. A look of recognition flashes across her face, and then it vanishes quickly. She reaches up to brush away a lock of golden hair, and continues speaking: "How may I help you?"_

_Her tone disarms you completely. You expected the usual: every Gria you encountered either tried to seduce you or screamed obscenities at you. This one spoke with a comforting warmth that you've only heard from your father. You try to call upon the memories of the time you were overwhelmed by the winged monsters, as they clawed at your shell. **"Reveal your cock, mongrel!" **screeches one. **"Give us your seed!"** cackled another. **"We'll devour your babes, and send the rest against the rest of your vile brood!"** screamed their mother. Instead of rage, though, feelings of dread come over you, and you suddenly feel the urge to leave._

_"Don't be afraid," soothes the golden haired Gria, with a warm smile. And you find yourself obeying. Your fear vanishes, along with the painful memories of the encounter... _

If my brother had not been there,_ you think to yourself..._

_"My name is Ayailla Fell. You are new to Sigil, are you not?"_

_"Yes, I am," you reply. Then you add. "Does it show?" You've actually been here for a few months, fending off the occasional cutpurse's attack and trying to understand where you are, and figure out where you need to go. You haven't made much in the way of progress. In fact, you only just became fluent in Common._

_"Not as much as you think," she reassures you with a slight smile. "You carry yourself quite well."_

_"What is this place?" you ask._

_"This is the 'Brothel of Slaking Intellectual Lusts'," she replies a bit proud of herself. Then, she studies you for a moment. "I take it from your question that you did not intend to partake in this establishment?"_

_"I... what is a Brothel, exactly?" you answer, feeling a bit dumb for asking._

_She quirks an eyebrow. "You.. do not know?"_

_"My Common isn't very good."_

_She explains the concept, but she quickly realizes how alien it is to you. "Tell me, how old are you, Mister...?"_

_An awkward pause fills the air, before she finally asks what your name is. "...Argonar," you reply, thinking about the name of your ship. Your real name — Aleph — is one hated amongst the Gaians, and it would not do to declare who you are so openly to a Gria._

_"Well met, Argonar. And... how old are you, exactly?"_

_"108," you reply._

_"...And you are not familiar with a brothel?"_

_"...My long life has been spent fighting a war, and nothing but a war," you answer, keeping things vague. The war between the Messians and the Gaians had been going on for much longer, after all._

_A look of genuine pity and sorrow comes over her face. "And there was no time for nothing else at all?"_

_"None... And I am slowly beginning to realize the shame of it. There is so much I need to learn."_

_"Well, I think you've come to the right place, then." She gently grabs hold of your mechanical hand, the tips of her slender fingers barely putting any pressure on your ceramic nanospore shell, and yet you do not resist their pull. "Come, let me introduce you to the girls."_

_"...Am I to have intercourse with them?" you ask, trying not to panic._

_She laughs, "No, of course not! You see, THIS brothel in particular..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"No!" shouted Aleph, "This is wrong!"<p>

The memory collapsed back into the dream, and Sigil collapsed back into the palace, and the palace became a forest filled with dead trees of blackened bark.

"I shouldn't be remembering this..." said Aleph, more calmly, but still distraught. "The sectors... I tried unscrambling them..." he looked at Adam, who was starting to feel a little nervous. "How did you do this?" asked the ancient. "You haven't found any more grimoires, have you?"

"Not since Caleston, no," Adam replied.

"Then how..."

It was then that Pixie manifested herself. "This needs to stop! He's infecting your memories!"

_Infecting his memories?_ Adam asked himself, confused. _That can't be right_ — _I don't have power over a synthetic demi-god, do I?_ "What the hell are you even talking about?"

"Pixie," said Aleph, "I know this woman, I feel it in my..."

"What, your soul?" admonished Pixie. "You don't have a soul any more! You have his, and it's doing things to you, look!"

With a wave of her hand Pixie conjured up the unmoving, lifelike image of Ayailla Fell, and with another wave she split the image in two blurs that formed into the easily recognizable shapes of Aya Brea and Manah T'soni. The statement was obvious: Fell resembled the two young women greatly: She had Aya's magnificently long hair, and was almost as tall as shapely as she was. She also had Manah's soft, fair skin, and her gentle, graceful manner.

And of course, there were the eyes.

"She's not even a memory!" Pixie declared. "She's a fantasy HE came up with!"

"Now wait just a goddamned—"

"_Shut up!" _she commanded petulantly._ "_You don't get a say in this!" she hovered around Aleph. "You need to find a new avatar for him, now!"

"Oh, sure," replied Adam sardonically. "I'll just add THAT to the list of things I need to do. Let's see: Find a new apartment, get to work, report to Pallin, pray that the Spectre candidates play nice and don't start a war, find the Illuminati, stop the Illuminati, hunt down Scholar, hunt down Tela Vasir to find T'soni. Oh, and save the galaxy from an ancient eldritch abomination out to wipe out all life. 'Find Aleph a new body' is right on the top of my list." Adam poured as much sarcasm as he could in that last sentence.

"Adam," said Aleph. "Pixie is only worried about our well-being."

"_Our_ well-being? I've suffered headaches and flashes of your memories and knowledge ever since I interfaced with the Soulcatcher and the Grimoire on Caleston, but when YOU start hallucinating she starts panicking? Come on!"

"Adam, I can't stay in your mind for much longer. If you don't find a new avatar..." Aleph sighed. "You'll perish within the week."

It took a minute for Adam to process what Aleph had just said. "...Great," he said finally. "That's just fucking great. Now where the hell am I going to find one of those?"

"We have options," said Aleph. "I can archive myself and go to sleep... that should give you a month, at most but... you won't be able to use any of the abilities you've learned from the Grimoire."

"I'll make do. But that's only a temporary measure. When you say a new avatar, you mean..."

"Several things. If at all possible, I would like you to find a Promethean Warform... it should have more than enough storage capacity and processing power for me to remain active. It doesn't even have to be entirely intact: as long as the primary Cephalon is functional, we can make repairs while I remain with you in an advisory capacity."

"...I'm thinking that there aren't a whole lot of million year old war machines just laying around. Could take years to find one."

"I know, that's why we should consider transferring me to someone else." With a wave of his hand, Aleph conjured the life-size images of Echo and Tali. "These are the best suited candidates for the task. Sun-Mi Echo Alpha Six is the most ideal, since her storage capacity is considerably larger than yours..."

"...But?"

"...I may have to erase a few things."

"...Just like you did with Shepard's memories."

"Yes. The second best candidate would be Tali. I've had a good look at the implant architecture and her brainwaves. A few modifications, and I should be able to interface with her easily."

"Somehow, I don't think she's going to be too happy about having an AI stuck inside her head," commented Adam. "How long do you think you can stay in there?"

"A few weeks. Your technology is very limited."

"Well, I'll have to ask them, and I can't guarantee you that they'll agree," Adam said this, but he suspected that either of them would do it if he told them that his life depended on them making a sacrifice.

That bothered him.

"There are others in your company," said Aleph, as he made the images of Brea and Garrus appear. "The artificial human has a Praxis implant with conduits that permeate nearly the entirety of her brain. The transfer would be difficult, but I suspect her regenerative abilities would allow her to endure."

"I'm sensing a pattern here... you need to exist inside a cyborg, right?"

"Yes. I can remain in storage indefinitely inside a Grimoire, but in order to be active I need an augmented organic brain."

"So how does Garrus fit in? He's not a cyborg."

"He did not tell you?" Aleph brought the image of Garrus closer, and turned him around. "There, on the back of his head... the plug for his visor."

"Oh... yeah, now I remember. Said he earned that in the Riflemen's Legion."

"Not only that, but he has an embedded memory enhancement wafer close to that plug. A simple modification, and I could transfer to him... though we wouldn't last long together."

"How long?"

"A day, at the most. He would be a last resort, and we would have to put him in stasis for him to last any longer."

"Wait a minute... Why don't I just shove you back into the Grimoire until I find you a more suitable host?"

Aleph crossed his arms. "The Grimoire you lost?"

"...Yeah. But let's assume I get it back."

"...I tried that already. It didn't work."

"Wait, you did? When?"

Aleph nodded. "Do you recall what happened when Benezia was slain?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Adam fell on his knees, and Manah found herself keeping him from falling over completely. A voice boomed from the Monolith, its shaft of light gone. <em>

_"ERROR. HOST CAPACITY INSUFFICIENT. INITIATING ANIMA BACKUP."  
><em>

_Wisps of blue light surged out of Adam's head, taking with them millions of years of accumulated wisdom, memories, and skills... and rushed into the Monolith._

_"GRIMOIRE SAVED."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I intended to leave behind instructions for you to follow as I left," said Aleph. "As far as I can tell, the transfer was completely successful"<p>

"So why the hell are you still in my head?" asked Adam.

"...I don't know. Though, to be more precise"

"And there's another version of you inside that Grimoire?"

"...Yes."

"So even if I were to transfer you out..."

"I might still remain... and we would both eventually perish. But a copy of me would go on to keep fighting Nazara, and that is of paramount importance."

"...Great. Just great." Adam took a deep breath, calmed himself, and said: "I'll see what I can do."

Aleph nodded. "I'll archive myself and keep my activity low. I'm leaving behind a program that will allow you to transfer me out to your chosen host or a Cephalon."

Adam watched as Aleph compressed himself into a glowing cube set on a small tree, its trunk shaped into a pedestal...

...And then, he woke up.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Tela Vasir woke up to the whirring, wheezing, and beeping of a life support unit, and the smell of disinfectant rushing into her nostrils. The false sunshine that came through the large window tore past her eyelids and got into her sensitive eyes, and it took a moment before she could focus on the figure standing by the window, to her right.<p>

"Don't turn left," she said. The tone was neutral, but the sound was pleasant enough.

It was another Asari, clad in a long, flowing red dress, its vivid crimson cloth embroidered in gold. She turned around, gazing upon Vasir's face with piercing blue-grey eyes, the colour matching her skin tone.

Vasir couldn't feel her own body, no doubt due to the painkillers. The crash had been bad, she knew that much, and the little pale bitch had broken a few of her bones even before then. Such power...

"Do you know who I am?" said the asari in the red dress.

Vasir couldn't reply, as she could barely feel her tongue.

"My name is Amelyssan. I, along with my coterie, came here on behalf of the Old Woman," the asari in the red dress continued. "I was told that you would be bringing Manah T'soni back to us. Imagine my disappointment when we had to wait well past the appointed time... and waited... and waited..."

Vasir tried to defend herself, but only managed a croak.

"And then, we had to learn of the of the reason of your absence. You crashed our gift to you in a slum, for all to see, and you failed to trigger its self-destruct. Do you realize how advanced that machine is? Do you realize the edge that we risk to lose? The girl was nowhere to be found, and since the area was flooded with Metatron... I can assume that the girl is dead, consumed by the fluid... What sort of punishment shall the Old Woman inflict on you? Hm... oh, speaking of which, don't turn to your left."

Vasir could hear wet sounds coming from her left.

"Of course, there is the small, but very small, chance that I am wrong, that Manah was spared the blaze that consumed your legs and that she managed to escape somewhere. Seeing as you're the only witness I can call upon...

There was grunting now, and breathing.

Amelyssan clucked her tongue. "Don't turn to your left!" she insisted, as if scolding a restless child. "Where was I? Ah, yes. I will ask you a question, and you will nod in the affirmative and shake your head in the negative. Do you understand?"

Vasir nodded, though it took quite a bit of effort.

"Good. Now, answer me this: Is Manah T'soni alive?"

Vasir nodded, remembering what she had seen through her helmet's heads up display. Some her craft's sensors had still been active.

"Good. And the artifact? Is it intact?"

Vasir nodded, remembering that damnable, little thieving animal fishing it out of the ruined cargo compartment.

"Excellent. Now, seeing as you can't speak, I'll need to have a little look inside your soul to get all the facts. I am quite aware that, as a Spectre, there are things you may not be willing to share... but for your sake, I strongly advise that you do not make any attempts to keep ANYTHING from me. Why? Look to your left."

Vasir turned to her left, and saw a gaunt looking Asari in black robes chewing something down to the bone with long teeth filed into sharp points.

She was eating Vasir's hand.

"Don't panic," soothed Amelyssan as she turned Vasir's head back to her. "Now do you understand the price of defiance?"

Vasir nodded and nodded some more.

"Do you intend to defy me?"

Vasir shook her head, "Nah... naaaah..." she slurred out.

"Excellent!" Amelyssan's tone was almost too cheerful for someone who just threatened to have a Spectre eaten. "Now, try to relax," she instructed, as her eyes went black and the light of the world seemed to vanish...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>He had to fake a fire alarm to make sure nobody saw him change out of the 108 to take a shower, but Adam was only too happy to do it if only to finally feel clean without suddenly having to explain what the hell he was doing on Noveria. Now, he needed coffee: after Aleph had archived himself, Adam had a really bad dream that involved him climbing a giant tower made of cubes, with Manah yelling for help at the top and some kind of gigantic monster clawing its way up below him. After a long climb, the cubes gave way under him, and he was rescued by the incredible hulk.<p>

As fas as nightmares went, Adam thought that one was kind of funny, as he sipped his chocolate soykaf. He also felt a bit better, like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

_But of course,_ thought Adam,_ I've got months to live. That puts a damper on things._

The elevator doors slid open with a hiss, and Adam stepped onto the embassy floor were the C-Sec Executor's office was located, duffel bag full of high tech combat gear in hand. He quickly made his way to Pallin's office, wondering about exactly what he could and could not tell him. He rang the door bell, and was allowed in.

Sitting at Pallin's desk was an asari matron, dressed in a long black Thessian business dress, her face decorated with black make-up designed to imbue her expressions with a sense of beautiful authority.

"Excuse me," said Adam, confused. "Wrong office, I—"

"No, mister Jensen," said the Matron. "You came to the right place." She beckoned him to approach, though when he did she didn't offer him a seat.

"Who are you?" asked Adam. "Where's Pallin?"

"I am _Acting Executor_ Sephtis Falsum..." she put an emphasis on the title, subtly demanding respect. "...And I am afraid that Verum Pallin is no longer with us."

"He was fired?" asked Adam, a uneasy feeling forming inside his gut.

"No. He was murdered."

"...What?"

"I say again," she said, annoyed. "He's dead. And he's left me quite a few outstanding issues to resolved," she complained, lacking any sort of empathy. "Most of them concerning you."

"How did he die?"

"Most of these issues concern _you_," Sephtis continued, ignoring him. "Let's see, he's made a point to ignore your blatant disregard for the privacy of some of the Citadel's most influential citizens, most notably when you infiltrated Matriarch Eneles' mansion..."

"Eneles was a serial killer who liked to wear the skin of her victims," countered Adam.

"...and then you have the many, many counts of police brutality against the citizens of the Citadel..."

"The citizens who had it coming, anyways."

"...and finally, these." She produced a stack of envelopes from a drawer, and dropped them on her desk. "Petitions to have you fired, half by ambassador Udina, the other from various members of the Alliance Parliament itself. All unanswered..." she gave Jensen a look. "...Obviously. Personally, I find it amazing that Pallin lasted this long in his position with such clear disregard for politics."

"Since when does C-Sec give two shits about what the Alliance wants?"

"C-Sec is an organization that operates within the very epicentre of the galaxy's political stage. It cannot afford to make any sort of enemies, especially one who is a rising power, and ESPECIALLY not during such a critical a time as the selection of its first Spectre. Speaking of which, I do believe there are a few Spectres who would like a few words with you. Something about attempting to hack into their database? In any case, it is obvious to me that you are too much of a liability to keep around, and thanks to my predecessor's negligence... i have plenty of grounds for you immediate dismissal."

Falsum pressed 'enter' on her keyboard, and Adam's omni-tool beeped. He had just received an email that made his dismissal from C-Sec official.

"Clear out your desk, Mr Jensen," said Falsum, trying and failing not to look smug. "And turn in your badge."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>At the Homicide division, Adam Jensen — formerly Detective Sergeant Jensen of C-Sec — silently gathered his affairs from his desk, suffering the smirks of more than a couple of his former human co-workers and the cold indifference of the Turian ones.<p>

He didn't have much to gather: just some stationary, a desktop computer, and a few mementos from his most notable cases.

Just as he was about to leave, a turian stopped him. It was Detective Chellick.

"Jensen," said Chellick, coolly.

"Chellick," replied Adam in kind.

While Adam never really hated Chellick, he had never really taken much of a liking to him. He really should have: Chellick was a driven and very competent officer of the law. Adam's opinion of him was counterbalanced by the fact that he was very manipulative and quite ambitious: Chellick had made no secret of his aspirations to become Executor, and that coloured his every action.

"I heard the news," said Chellick. "I had a feeling you and Vakarian would not last long under Falsum's regime."

Adam nodded towards Garrus' desk, which had also been cleared. "Was he a 'political liability' too?"

Chellick shook his head. "Falsum couldn't pin anything on him, though I guess working with you for so long was enough reason for her to give him his two week notice and an immediate transfer to the Traffic Desk in a tip-ward precinct. As you humans like to say: rough seas ahead."

"What makes you say that?"

"Falsum, unlike Pallin, is a politician first and a police officer second, and she's going to set the tone at the top. I fully expect that the officers she'll promote will some matriarch's daughter, and the like. It's already begun: There are a lot of Asari Maidens who are now on the Presidium Tower's security detail..."

Left unsaid was that getting a position in the tower's security was both a very cushy position and considered a well deserved honour.

"...Soon after," Chellick continued, "discipline will suffer, and crime will be on the rise. And it's going to be that way for a very long time: Asari executors don't retire until their Matriarch years."

"Well, I won't be around to see it," said Adam.

"Have you thought about what you're going to do now?"

"My immediate future involves a seedy bar somewhere on the Tips and bottle of ryncol. If I survive that, well... I honestly have no clue. Excuse me."

Chellick grabbed Adam's shoulder after he took a couple of steps, stopping him. "You know, I never really liked you, Adam. You're capable, more than anyone here, but you lack ambition, and a sense of practicality. Still, regardless of what you do tomorrow, today, _this_ is what you deserve."

"And what would 'this' be, Chellick?" replied Adam, sensing more trouble.

Chellick let him go, then stood ramrod straight. "OFFICERS!" he bellowed. "ATTENTION!"

It was then that, to the confusion of the human staff, all around the office floor the Turian detectives — around thirty of them in number— stood up from their desks and stood ramrod straight, hands behind their backs.

Adam still wasn't sure what was going on. "What the hell—"

"POSITIONS!" Chellick bellowed again, and with military cadence the thirty turians formed two rows on each side of the path from Adam's desk to the elevator.

"SALUTE!" Chellick commanded, and the Turians put their left fists on the center of their chests, heads held up high.

Adam didn't know what to think of the gesture as he walked past them all.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In an aircab headed towards the tips of the ward, where the rooms and the drinks were cheap, Adam received an unsecured call from Garrus.<p>

"_Hey,"_ said Garrus.

"Hey," said Adam. "Got the news?"

_"If you mean I got a slap in the face in the form of 'Pallin's dead and by the way you and your partner are fired," then yes, I got the news. And you? How are you dealing with the news?"_

"I'm dealing with them," said Adam. "Just need to find myself a place to stay, first."

_"What? What happened to your place?"_

"Some bullshit with the rent," Adam lied, not trusting that this call wasn't being monitored. "I'll be fine."

_"Hey, if you need a place to stay, you're always welcome at my place."_

"Thanks, I'll think about it. But for now I think I'll manage with a pod hotel."

_"Look, I'm off to investigate a crash somewhere in the tips, but once I'm done... You remember Euridycia?"_

"The lab tech? Worked with her a couple of times, yeah. Didn't you two used to date?"

_"Well, she works at the morgue where Pallin's body is stored, and she owes me a favour."_

Adam wasn't sure where Garrus was going with this. "...And?"

_"And... I'm going to hold a vigil. Have a drink, say a few words... and then tomorrow morning I'm going to spend the next two weeks trying to find the son of a bitch that murdered the Executor. Care to join me?"_

"For the Vigil? Definitely. The investigation..." Adam sighed wearily. "I don't have a badge any more, Garrus. And I have a lot of things on my mind."

_"I know, but I had to ask. I can manage on my own."_

"Just don't go storming a crime lord's den on your own, like last time."

Garrus chuckled. "_I won't."_

Adam and Garrus set a time for the Vigil, and they cut the connection. Little else needed to be said.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Jondum Bau entered the office of Councillor Valern, representative of the Salarian Union's leadership on the Citadel Council. It was a rather large space, with little in the way of furniture or decorations. This was done on purpose: to deny an intruder a place to hide, or a nook to hide any piece of malicious electronics. Even the glass desk's placement was well thought of: it provided one with a complete view of the circular space and kept one's back against the wall, preventing an attack from that angle.<p>

"Ah, Spectre Bau," greeted the Councillor. "...come in, come in!" Bau noted that it took a whole seconds for the Councillor to beckon him over, and realized that he had just been thoroughly scanned — no doubt by the scanning drones disguised as floating glow globes. Evidently, Bau had passed said scan to Valern's satisfaction... which was a bit odd, because he was currently armed and quite capable of killing the other Salarian in the room.

"Councillor Valern," greeted Bau. "You called for me?"

"Yes, I just read the non-redacted report of your mission to Noveria that you sent to the STG... the implications are... disturbing."

"Which parts of the report, specifically?" said Bau, as he took a seat in front of Valern.

"The AIA and a Terran megacorp using these... bioroids to replace a prospective Spectre has... turned some of our initial assumptions about these synthetic infiltrators around."

_Is that what you are most concerned with?_ wondered Bau. He had seen much more perturbing things on Noveria than skeletal robots wearing human skin. The giant creatures that emerged spontaneously from the foul smelling liquid raining down on them had been an example. The creature calling itself Hashmal Lephantis somehow causing hundreds of Terran soldiers to go into comas after inducing vivid hallucinations of flaming ghosts had been another. And then there had been the sea of fluid in Upper Dosadi: further analysis of the stuff suggested that it was made from human bodies, and there had been tens of thousands of Noveria's citizens unaccounted for...

The worst part? The man responsible for all this was still at large in a dreadnought-sized pyramid. After the first human spectre was selected, Bau planned to go after him... but he could already tell Valern had other plans.

"We had assumed," continued the Councillor, "that it was Saren that had deployed the Nielsen Bioroid in order to sabotage human interests in the Citadel, culminating in the murder of Junko Zayne Shepard. The technology required to create such a machine and Saren's interest in Prothean technology supported that theory..." Valern tapped the data pad in front of him. "...You're saying that it was a Terran biotech megacorp that provides the bioroid's skin? And at the behest of an agent of the Alliance's own counter-intelligence agency?"

Bau nodded. "That's what I've seen. If you have doubts..."

"I saw the encrypted footage," reassured Valern. "I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter, in light of these new facts."

"Very well." Bau took a deep breath, and began: "In light of the fact that it were humans that attempted to replace Elsa Devereaux with a Nielsen-type Bioroid and that it were humans providing them with their disguises — and, possibly, their programming — we can safely assume that Bioroids are in fact a Terran creation, and that they have access to advanced manufacturing machines capable of alloying element zero with various high-tensile strength metals... possibly a pre-collapse Universal Constructor."

"Let me stop you right there?" said Valern. "Why would Terrans kill Junko Zayne Shepard, easily their best candidate for Spectrehood? Nihlus' evaluation of her had guaranteed her the honour of being the first!"

"I apologize: I said 'Terrans'. I should have said 'a Terran organization'. Perhaps Shepard was killed because she did not fit in their plans, and their plans involved a Spectre under their control. Or, perhaps they had her killed because she knew about them, and had evidence of their activities."

"Why not just replace her with one of those Bioroids, then?"

Bau had to admit, he had to give that one some thought: "Her biotics," he realized. "Shepard had a reputation being a powerful and somewhat spectacular user of biotics. While a Nielsen Bioroid's endoskeleton is fused with element zero, Detective Sergeants Vakarian and Jensen's reports made no mention of Diana Nielsen using biotics when she attacked them. Shepard suddenly NOT using her greatest abilities would immediately alert those around her that she is actually an impostor."

Valern nodded, agreeing with this assessment. "And our assumption of Saren's involvement was completely erroneous, then."

"I... think you were actually correct on that one, though your reasoning was incorrect."

"Oh?"

"The reason why I wanted to apprehend AIA agent Lawson was because I strongly suspected that he knew the Geth attack on Freeport S9 was coming. Furthermore, he and Johnathan Scholar obliquely implied that they had a hand in the defeat of Frederick Häyhä at Saren's hands. Häyhä was Devereaux's superior and in charge of bringing down Saren in the name of the European Union, and were apparently close. His tragic death was possibly staged in an attempt to manipulate her to come and receive 'treatments' from Europa Genomics, and thus get 'replaced'."

"Staged? But that would mean..."

"Yes, that Saren is under the AIA's control... or, at the very least cooperating with them. As for the AIA, they could themselves be compromised by another secretive organization, or..."

"Or perhaps we are completely wrong to assume that the Bioroids are their servants," Valern shut his eyes, and rubbed his temple, an attempt at working out the stress caused by what he was hearing. "And every major organization on Earth has been compromised by these synthetic abominations."

"...That's another possibility, yes, " agreed Bau. "A very worrying one. Of course, there are too many possibilities and not enough proof to support any theories. I'm hoping that my colleagues in the STG will be able to extract some information out of agent Lawson and Urdnot Wreav, but... The AIA has a policy of compartmentalizing their information, and I doubt Wreav was privy to Saren's plans. I request your permission in pursuing Johnathan Scholar... he may very well know far more about the Bioroids and their makers."

"I agree, but that's not our priority right now. It's obvious that the first human Spectre is high on the Bioroids' list of people to replace, and so the Bioroids are now your top priority."

"Sir?"

"When Pallin brought the Nielsen case to our attention, I knew immediately that we needed to root out any other possible infiltrators in the Citadel. I have put three Spectres on the task already, and I want you to work with them."

"I understand, but I have never really worked well with other Spectres. I find it better to gather my own team of specialists for any given task."

"If that's how you wish to operate, that's fine, but I would prefer if you coordinated your efforts with others."

"Of course."

"Do you have anyone in mind for your team?"

"As I matter of fact, I do... but the less you know, the better." Bau only hoped that he could contact them in short order.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The <em>Trough<em> was — as far as watering holes frequented by scumbags went — surprisingly clean. The owner, Tuak, made a point to keep the place clean after a customer had made his dislike for dirty glasses known. Ever since then, The steel walls were kept clean, the jukebox was kept clean, the slightly rusted and leaky old pipes were kept clean, the makeshift wooden bar was kept clean, and even the cockroaches were kept clean.

Said customer, after an absence of maybe six years, had just stepped through the front doorway (which had lacked a proper door ever since that fight yesterday) and was now walking up to the bar.

"Tuak," said Adam Jensen, duffel bag over his right shoulder and a small crate under his left arm. "Long time."

"...Jensen," said Tuak, who could not believe his four eyes. "Gods... I thought you were never coming back here. Aren't you a cop, now?"

"_Was_ a cop. Now I'm just a nobody looking for a quiet drink... Whiskey and Ryncol. Leave the bottles."

"The, uh, whiskey..." said Tuak nervously, "...I got plenty of. I'm down to one bottle of Ryncol, though."

"...And?"

"And if I don't ration it my Krogan customers will get pissed."

"...Fine. A bottle of whiskey and a _glass_ of Ryncol, then. And a glass of ice with a mixing spoon. Bring them to my table."

"Good, good! Coming right up!"

The line about the last bottle of Ryncol was a lie: Tuak remembered that a drunk Adam Jensen was an Adam Jensen in the mood for a fight, and he really, REALLY didn't want to deal with that right now. He also hoped his other customers wouldn't try anything: The Trough wasn't exactly a human-friendly bar. This wasn't done by policy: it's just the way the clientèle went.

Funny thing is, Jensen had a hand in that. Six years ago some Alliance Marines had come in here looking for some cheap drinks and entertainment, and when they saw that Tuak was a Batarian, they decided to get some payback from Elysium. The barman had protested that he wasn't a slaver, that he had never been to Elysium, but they weren't interested in hearing him out. It was, of all people, _Adam_ who had come to his defence.

_"I didn't see him on Elysium,"_ he had said. Then, bitterly, he had added: "_And I certainly didn't see YOU punks there, either." _That had gotten the fists flying just as someone put on some terran song about 'staying alive'. The Alliance marines had gone down quick, but as brawls always tended to go, others had joined the fray, and Adam had taken on all comers for exactly 3 minutes and 27 seconds before the cops had come in and arrested everyone involved. A few days later, Jensen had come back from prison with a pocket full of credits and an even bigger need to drink.

And then he became a cop.

There were parts to that story that Tuak had missed, of course. But since Adam had kept Tuak from getting a beatdown, the bartender had every intention of keeping Jensen's glass full, and at half price.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A spoonful of Ryncol in two fingers of whiskey on ice didn't create the best of flavours, but it gave the drink a slow burn that Adam couldn't get otherwise. Usually, the Sentinel RX system broke down alcohol before he could really enjoy a buzz, and Ryncol was the only thing potent enough to clog the Sentinel system up. In the bad old days, Adam secretly had hoped that the infamous Krogan moonshine would break down his internal augs, and that he could finally drink himself to oblivion. No such luck, of course. As powerful as it was, straight Ryncol never flipped that switch in Adam's brain that would have made him an alcoholic.<p>

_God damn you, Sarif. God damn you and your quality standards._

Adam mixed his drink with his spoon, but before he could drink from it, the news came on the dingy old flatscreen Tuak had over the bar. "Hey, turn it up."

Tuak nodded, and the image of Emily Wong, now an anchor on the Citadel News Network's livestream, was no longer mute.

"..._C-Sec officers are baffled by the scene of the murder. According to them, the Asari was crushed to death by what appears to be a Wanzer sized fist, based on the indentations on the concrete... though no such machine was found or witnessed near the scene. Here's Sloan Sabbith with eyewitness accounts. Sloan?_

_"Thank you, Emily. This is Mrs..."_

_"IT WAS A GIANT, I TELL YOU!" screamed the old woman. She had seen better days, and so did that old coat of hers. "THERE WAS A CRACK OF THUNDER! AND A RUSH OF WIND! AND THE LIGHTS WENT OUT SO I COULDN'T SEE IT, BUT IT ROARED LIKE—"_

_"Uh, thank you, ma'am," said Sloan. "Uh, I'm afraid, Emily, that this is the best testimony that I could find."_

_"Did she say something about a crack of thunder and a blackout?"_

_"Yes she did, and before you ask — Yes, the estimated time of death of the victim just happens to coincide with the recent blackout in the area, and the sighting of a bolt of lightning dismissed "_

_"Coincidence, Sloan?"_

_"Too early to tell, Emily. C-Sec is on the lookout for two other persons of interest witnessed at the scene: a large blonde Roegadyn male in uniform and a teenage human girl with a fluffy dress and cherry red hair, and request that anyone with information of their whereabouts contact C-Sec immediately."_

_"Thank you, Sloan. Well, viewers, there you have it, another murder mystery near the tips. Will the Citadel's dynamic duo solve this one?" she smiled, and winked. "Time will tell! In other news..."_

"Not this time, Emily." Adam slowly downed the whole glass in one long gulp, and he savoured the burn with his eyes closed, focusing on that warm feeling, trying to forget all his troubles for a while...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Trough<strong>_

_Seven years ago..._

_**"Beware the Ragman..."**_

_"Mmmh uuurgh whaaaa?" the cyborg mumbled as his head shot up amidst a small castle made of empty metal bottles. His artificial eyes needed to recalibrate to focus on the person sitting across his table. 'Table' was a bit of a misnomer, here. It was really a large, empty metal spool meant for industrial power cables._

_"Adam Jensen." The voice was deep, and warbled. "I spent the better part of the day around these parts, using that name to look for you. Almost nobody could answer me. You know what they responded to, however? The Ragman. And now I finally understand why they call you that. I had hoped the money we gave you as a reward would go towards cleaning yourself up, but..."_

_The Turian shut his nostrils at the stench of the human cyborg in front of him. His clothes, while not rags, were worn and dirty, the consequences of living in a filthy alley for a couple of months. His hair and his beard were long, and unkempt, with bits of food in them._

_"Go away," Adam slurred. "Leave me alone," he added more clearly, the alcohol already getting out of his system. He looked around: it was well past closing time, and besides Tuak sweeping up the floor nearby, there was nobody else here save for the dark skinned turian with the white facial markings. _

_"Sobering up already? Good. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Verum Pallin, and I am the Executor at Citadel Academy."_

_Adam laughed sarcastically. "Right, and I'm king Arthur, once and future king."_

_Pallin ignored that. "And I'm here to offer you a job. More precisely, I want you to finish the one you started." He set a datapad on the makeshift table and slid it towards Adam, who barely glanced at it. There were mugshots of several humanoid aliens, their scaly skin varying shades of red, green and blue. They all looked to be around their mid-to-late teens._

_"Nice kids," said Adam, "Yours?"_

_Pallin tapped on the rightmost mugshot. "That's Ullr. That's the one you caught. He's one of the Seven, and those are the rest of his gang, and I want you to catch them. You'll be fairly well rewarded, of course. The bounty on each of them alive is around two million credits."_

_Adam remembered Ullr. He was the alien kid with the augmented legs that had kicked an old man to death in front of everyone just as Adam was being escorted out of the presidium, right after his stint in the drunk tank. The kid had dared the cops to catch him... but it was Adam that answered the challenge and succeeded. _

_"Alright, 'Executor'. Don't you have a small army of cops at your command that can deal with these?"_

_Pallin sighed. "Do you know who the Illuminated Primacy are?"_

_Adam shrugged. _

_"They're the governing body of the Hanar. Being fragile, floating squids, they use Drell like Ullr to do their dirty work. For a while now they were quite happy with them, being one of the most athletic sapient species in the known galaxy... but then around the same time humans showed up, they started experimenting with ways to boost their assassins' physical performance."_

_"And now their little experimental subjects have gone loose, for all to see. They want you to deal with it, but..."_

_"...but, if I put out an APB or a high enough bounty on them, then it won't be long before everyone knows about them, and then the Primacy will have to deal with the backlash. The Primacy has enough pull here to get what it wants, and what it wants is those kids in prison and ready for pickup, and a minimum of damage to their reputation."_

_"It's a little late for that," commented Adam, checking the bottles. All Empty. "So you want me to clean up the squid's mess, is that it? No thanks. Let them deal with it, and suffer the consequences of their bullshit."_

_"It's not being dealt with properly. Every bounty hunter that has gone after them, every agent I put on this has either come back in need of hospitalization, a burial, or hasn't come back at all. Everyone that has tried to catch or kill them has failed... Everyone, except you."_

_"And why should I give a damn?"_

_"That's a human expression, isn't it? Why should you care? Because those Drell are dangerous, Mister Jensen, and while they are free they are a threat to the good citizens of this station. Right now the Seven's operations are pretty small time... but they're getting bolder, and crazier. Ullr's little display was just the start."_

_Adam looked the turian in the eye for a while, noticing a small scar over his left brow, close to the center, almost hidden by the ridges and wrinkles and white paint. "Tell you what?" he said with a smirk. "Ryncol ain't cheap, and I'm almost out of booze money. I'll think about it."_

_Pallin nodded. "Good. Report to the nearest C-Sec precinct and give them this." He gave Adam a card with a data chip on it. This will get you outfitted for the job, and register you as a bounty hunter."_

_"Hey, I said I'd **think** about it," protested Adam._

_Pallin ignored him. "And there's one last thing I want you to do, once you're done with them."_

_Adam sighed. "What is it?"_

_"Enlist in C-Sec."_

_Adam just gave Pallin a look, and then laughed. "Yeah, no. I tried being a cop before. It didn't work out."_

_"I think you would do quite well in C-Sec, Mister Jensen. If you're half the man I think you are, you could make sergeant in a year and become a detective in two. In five, you could become chief of an entire precinct. Who knows, you might even catch the attention of the Spectres. They've been recruiting from our best, after all."_

_"And what kind of man do you think I am, hm?"_

_"The kind that acted when an innocent man was killed while everyone else just stared. The kind that woke up from a drunken stupor from under a pile of rags and acted when an street kid was about to be kidnapped, never to be seen again. The kind that acts, when nobody else will. The kind of man that C-Sec will need in the coming future."_

_"The kind with mech augs you can't afford," said Adam bitterly as Pallin got up. _

_"You can sit here and try to find solace at the bottom of a bottle—"_

_"—I'm working on it."_

_"—But you're not going to," said Pallin out loud, as he approached the way out of the Trough. "You **know** you can't. You're meant for greater things, Mister Jensen. And C-Sec would be happy to help you accomplish them." Just as he opened the door to leave, he turned around and said. "I DARE you, to accomplish them..."_

_An hour after Pallin left, Adam was staring at the card in his hand._

_And then, he tossed it in the garbage._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The Trough<strong>_

_The next morning... _

_"Go away," said Adam at the bar. It was a busy morning, much to his chagrin. Something big was brewing in the underworld, and apparently the Trough had been picked as a meeting point for it._

_"YOU go away," said the Krogan with gold teeth. "You fucking stink, human."_

_"Yeah!" hissed his Vorcha with the spiked dog collar. "You listen to boss. Boss might be nice and only break one arm, yes?"_

_"...One," replied Adam._

_"One what?" asked the Krogan, sneering._

_"Guys..." warned Tuak, fearful. "Come on, can't you just walk away from this one?"_

_"Shut up, Tuak!" snarled Gold Teeth, "and get me another Ryncol on the rocks." He turned back to Jensen. "One what, pyjak?"_

_"Two..." said Adam, his tone menacing._

_"Yes, TWO!" screeched the Vorcha. "Two of us, One of you! You understand, yes?"_

_"Oh, I see." Gold Teeth chuckled. "You're counting to three. Go on, pyjak, show me what happens at three..."_

_"Guys," Tuak was backing away slowly. "Please, I just finished fixing the windows!"_

_Adam smiled. "T—"_

_"HEY!" shouted a Turian. "TUAK! TURN UP THE VOLUME!"_

_Tuak looked at the old flatscreen, and saw that the usual morning show was replaced with the news. The words BREAKING NEWS PRISON BOMBING LIVE FROM KITHOI WARD streamed under live footage from a hovercraft, showing the burning ruins of a prison facility near the tip of one of the Citadel's arms. Tuak grabbed the remote, both worried at what he was seeing and relieved at the distraction. Everyone was waiting for him to turn up the volume, so he did._

_A woman's voice came through, the tone worried, but professional._

_**"—estimated thirty officers killed in the initial bombing and twenty more by the rioting prisoners. Reports are coming. We are now live with Emily Wong, on the ground with C-Sec's response. Emily?"**_

_**"Hello, Agamene, I'm here — ah!" **The young asian human woman ducked at the sound of bullets whizzing by her head, then quickly moved to a spot with better cover at the urging of a pale grey turian patrolman with blue stripes on his face.** "... I'm here on the scene with Special Response Team Alpha and several patrolmen attempting to retake the west wing from a group of prisoners. The group raided the armoury some time after the explosion, but were caught by surprise by the swiftness of C-Sec's response!"**_

_**"How many prisoners are they dealing with?"**_

_**"Fifty... out of close to a thousand unaccounted for and out in the city as we speak!"**_

_**"Have they made demands?"**_

_**"None! They just started shoot— Oh GOD!"**_

_Suddenly, Wong's camera drone captured the sight of Ullr leaping on top of a Special Response officer, followed by him kicking his head clean off. The footage became more frantic, receiving only glimpses of other Drell with augmented parts killing C-Sec officers._

_One of them, a large man with huge synthetic arms, approached Emily with a huge, evil grin on his face. "Come here, pretty lady..."_

_**"...no! NO! STAY AWAY!" **Emily grabbed her camera drone and tossed it at the giant, and then there was the sound of gunfire, and the turian patrolman shouting at the reporter to run the hell away._

_**"My camera!" **she shouted, her voice becoming distant over the static transmitted by the camera._

_**"Emily? Emily!" **called out the newsanchor. "Oh no, can we get eyes on her...?" she asked her crew, but she was cut short when the camera drone began to transmit again._

_The angle was off, a worm's eye view, but one could make out the figure of a young drell woman, her body riddled with scars and synthetic skin grafts. Her legs and arms had been replaced with elegant, white mechanical prostheses, with glowing lines cut into the frame._

_**"Watch," **she said, her calm voice hiding a tranquil fury. She lit up a flare, and tossed it somewhere, and then crushed the camera with her foot._

_They cut back to the newsanchor. **"We're getting a report from our eye in the sky — more explosives have been detonated in the prison... And we're going live at the scene with Caelum Videns!"**_

_**"Caelum here!"** shouted a Turian over the din of a skycar's engines. **"The prison is now completely engulfed in flames!" **_The video stream switched to the skycar's camera. **_"Survivors from Special response are coming out to escape the blaze and... Oh, no... they're shooting them!" _**

_Zoom in. Turian and Asari officers falling, shot in the back. _

_**"The prisoners are shooting the stragglers! And... wait, there's Emily, making a run for it, she's okay!"**_

_**"Caelum,"** asked the newsanchor. **"Did you see that? In the courtyard..."**_

_**"You're right... It seems whoever is behind this massacre left everyone a message in... let me check... English? Terran English? It reads... let me translate..."**_

_The camera swivelled, bringing the courtyard into view. On it, written in huge letters of gasoline, lit by a single flare, was written:_

_RAGMAN COME OUT_

_At first, Adam's expression became pained, and horrified, then it twisted into a mask of cold, trembling fury as more reports came in, of chaos and destruction across the ward. _

_**"Agamene," **said Caelum. "**I think the question on everyone's mind is, who is this Ragman, and how will he respond to this?"**_

_Adam crushed his glass into a hundred little shards. _

_"Whoa!" exclaimed Tuak, surprised. "Hey, that's coming out of your tab._

_Adam glared at him. "Where's the garbage disposal?"_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>The officer at the reception desk looked anxiously at the holo-screen, worried sick. Her boyfriend was in Special Response, and she hoped that the cameras would, just for one second, show him, alive and well, or at least wounded but stable, being tended to by a medic. <em>

_It was then that someone burst through the front door, striding towards her, but she barely paid him any mind. He was obviously a bum, coming in to report his shopping cart full of crap stolen. Her eyes were still fixed on the holo-screen even as he walked up to her and cleared his throat. "Fill this out," she said, not looking at him, handing him a stolen goods form._

_He cleared his throat again._

_"Look," she replied, annoyed, slowly turning towards him. "I don't have time to—"_

_The bum smacked something on the desk, getting her attention immediately. The bum removed his artificial hand and revealed a C-Sec card with a data chip embedded on the center, and PRIORITY ONE printed on the top in Basic._

_It was covered in slime, and stank of garbage. _

_The officer scanned the card immediately, and before long she was speaking to the Executor himself. "Who are you?" she asked, after the call was done and she received her instructions._

_"Your new bloodhound," said the cyborg, bitterly._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Adam was snapped out of his strangely, very vivid reminiscing when someone loudly pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.<p>

"Hello, Adam," said Hein, who had a couple of cuts and bruises on his face. "How are things?"

"Things are shit," replied Adam.

"Yeah, they're shit for me too."

"Oh really? Well, did you lose your job, your apartment, and someone who depended on you to keep her safe?"

Hein gave Adam a reproachful look for a moment, then smiled. "Well, after helping Anderson repel an attack on Galbadia Garden by Blacklight—"

"—The hell?!" Adam almost shouted, and looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. "Blacklight attacked a school?!"

"Hey, don't interrupt! Yes, Blacklight attacked a school. Don't be too surprised. Galbadia Garden's got plenty of scientific geniuses and prospective soldiers of fortune — almost every Tarsus Garden does. Treasure troves of talent, and in an war of ideas... well you get the idea."

"And Anderson, what was he doing there?"

"Well he was, thankfully, not in on the Alliance's latest act of douchebaggery. He went there to give Junko a proper send off." He took Adam's glass of Ryncol, sniffed it, coughed, and put it away. "Kahlee Sanders, an old flame of his, runs Galbadia Garden, which happens to have a very nice conference hall... and more than a few students there were fans of Junko, so they were happy to attend."

"And then Blacklight came in and ruined everything."

Hein seemed lost in thought for a moment, then spoke again... "They used her coffin as cover."

Adam's expression softened. "...Shit, Hein. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Hein said darkly. "I didn't need a gun to kill them... Anyways!" he shouted merrily, the anger in his face suddenly gone. "We managed to kill Blacklight and the Batarian mercs they hired, and saved the students, and as thanks for my heroism someone high in the Alliance chain of command decided that I should be arrested and dragged before them for, ah... you remember the Bhatia situation?"

"You mean the body you held from a grieving husband? Yeah, I remember. You got Zorah to test out those Geth weapons?"

"I did, but..." Hein rubbed the back of his head. "I was remiss in delivering my report to Alliance R & D... oh, and they wanted to know how I hacked the Normandy's computer. And Anderson... well, he really didn't want to be the one to bring me in in chains, but he's a good soldier at heart, and he did as he was told. The Normandy took me to an AIA facility, where I am currently held prisoner and due to be interrogated right about..." Hein checked the time on his Omni-Tool. "Now."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Elsewhere, in a secure AIA facility...<strong>_

"What the fuck?!" shouted the prison guard, as the Omni-Gel puppet in the likeness of Hein melted into liquid.

Better luck next time, said the note in the middle of the puddle.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Hoo, heads are going to roll for that one!" Hein's laughter died at the sudden cold hard stare Adam was giving him. "What?"<p>

"...So," said Adam, coldly, as he discreetly reached for his gun. "The Alliance basically kidnapped you, took you to an AIA facility, and then... conveniently, you escaped?"

"Well, I was never actually inside the facility. I made a copy of myself and then hid in an airvent for the better part of the trip."

"Right." In one swift motion, Adam drew Sasha from her holster, cocked it, and pressed it against the center of Hein's chest.

Right where the Snatcher's power core should be.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Author's notes<strong>_

Ayailla is, visually speaking, a cross between Planescape Torment's Fall-from-Grace and Lost Odyssey's Sarah Sisulart. She's also voiced by Jennifer Hale


	55. Chapter 47: In Sheep's Clothing, part 2

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 47: In Sheep's Clothing, part 2

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Commander Alan Simmons is played by Michael Jai White<em>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Edgar Hein was staring down at the gun pointed at the center of his chest, held there by none other than Adam Jensen.<p>

He had to admit, he had not been actually expecting that one at all.

"Adam?" he said carefully. "I know you've had a bad day, but..."

Adam just stared at him.

"Could you, um... not point that thing at me?"

Adam kept staring at him, and Hein figured out what he was doing. "Wait... are you doing a Voight-Kampff on me?...You are, because you think... you think I'm a Nielsen Bioroid, don't you?"

"...I do," said Adam, keeping the gun steady. "And you know what they tell me? Your blush response tells me you're very calm for a guy with a gun aimed at his chest."

"Yeah well, I'm used to having weapons pointed at me. That hardly makes me a robot."

"You're right, it doesn't. And from what I can see from my smart-vision you seem quite human."

"I smell a 'but' incoming."

"But... you've had access to my hardware for a while now. So, how can I trust what my augs tell me about you?"

Hein chuckled. "I suppose you can't... but consider this: have I had access to your augs during the one time that the Alliance has had the opportunity to kill and replace me?"

"That opportunity could have come along any time before we met."

Hein snorted. "Oh, come on, now. You're clutching at straws! Let's say I was really snatched, and I have one of the only people known to be able to hunt my kind down at my mercy. I should kill him, right? Or compromise his mind! Have I done either of those things?"

"...Not that I know of. It's not like I could really tell, right?"

Hein was about to counter with something, but realized that Noveria and Scholar's experiments in compromising someone's memories had put an idea in Adam's head: _How can I trust anything or anyone to be real? _

Hein sighed. "You're just going to have to trust me, then."

"If I've learned anything from Snatchers, it is that they're made to exploit trust."

"And they sow mistrust when discovered..." Hein meaningfully pointed at the gun. "...Brilliant concept for a weapon of terror, don't you think?"

"Yeah... brilliant." Adam uncocked his revolver, and holstered it. "I don't know if I can trust you, Hein." He helped himself to another drink of Ryncol-fortified whiskey. "Hell, I don't even trust myself."

"Good," said Hein. "I honestly would be disappointed if you took everything — even me — at face value. If I were truly a Snatcher, a blind trust in me would have been catastrophic._ Nothing is ever quite what it seems._ Words to live by, hm?"

"Amen."

"Of course, there is something to be said about having a little faith."

"Religion now, Hein?"

"Come now, religion doesn't have a monopoly on faith — Men of science, like myself, need to have faith to stay the course of their research... faith in the possibility that they are right. In fact, I dare say that faith is essential to the function of all sapients. And if you have no faith... well, that's apathy, Adam. And apathy is death."

Adam finished his drink.

"What will you do now, Adam?" asked Hein, as if he didn't just have a revolver pointed at him.

"Find a place to stay, then work on finding T'soni."

"Oh? What happened to your apartment?"

"Your 'secretary' decided to cancel my lease and got me a place on the Silversun strip."

"..._Really_?"

"Don't act as if you didn't know."

"I didn't! I told her to take care of your finances while you were away from home, but I never told her to go so far as get you a new apartment... why didn't you take it?"

"Because Internal Affairs would have been on my ass."

"I hear that's not a problem any more..."

"Yeah well... I still wouldn't take it."

"Why not?"

"Two reasons: It's more space than I need, and I gave the keys away to a random bum."

Hein laughed. "Oh, Adam, never change. It'll keep confusing Brea to no end. It's good for her, though...She's too much of an OCU girl. Still, we can't exactly have you stay in a pod hotel. There's a bunk on my ship with your name on it."

"Thanks, but I'm actually more concerned about T'soni."

"Well, you're no good to her if you keep living like a bum. Besides, I think that problem will resolve itself really soon."

"Yeah, I wouldn't count on that."

Hein checked the time on his Omni-Tool and started counting down. "In five, four, three, two, one..."

Adam received a encrypted Codec call... from Grey, of all people.

_"Jensen here,"_ he replied sub-vocally.

_"Grey here,"_ replied the image of Edward Grey. _"I've got some good news: T'soni's here."_

It took a moment for Adam to process this. _"What?" _

_"I said: T'soni's here, Jensen. She says she wants to see you ASAP."_

_Just like that? _thought Adam_. No sneaking into a compound or even a shoot-out to rescue her? "Tell her I'm on my way."_

He cut the connection, and looked at Hein, who gave him a shit-eating grin as he spread out his arms. "Like we said: You are not alone."

Adam sighed. "I'll get us a cab."

Just as the two men got outside, Hein stopped Adam from hailing an aircar. "Ah, look... can you wait for a minute? I need to take a piss."

"Fine, but that minute better not take too long."

Hein rolled his eyes at Adam's overly stern tone. "Yes, _DAD_."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Tuak thought he heard someone come in, but saw no one.<p>

"Huh, must have been the wind," he said, before he got back to cleaning his glasses.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Just as Clay exited his stall, he heard someone come into the bathroom. To act as non-suspicious as possible, he immediately went to the nearest urinal to make use of it... as he suddenly realized that he genuinely needed to pee. The man, who was a dark haired human about a hundred and eighty-three centimetres in height, took the urinal right next to him. He whistled a tune that resonated in the relatively empty room.<p>

Then, almost by coincidence, he was done at the same time as Clay, and washed his hands at the sink next to the him. The Drell found it kind of annoying.

"So, where is it?" asked the human.

"Where's what?"

The human kept on whistling as dried his hands and then put on his black leather gloves. "The dead drop with the recording of me and Jensen talking."

Clay eyed the way out. Locked.

"Look," said the Drell, "I have no idea—"

"Oh, nevermind, I already figured it out. "The human glanced at the stall Clay had just used. "I mean, you had plenty of time to piss in the stall, right? But you didn't! So..."

Knowing that he was made, Clay took a step back and went for his pistol, intent on perforating the human's skull. The human, though, was quicker in stepping forward, seizing Clay's gun arm by the wrist and slapping the weapon away with a palm strike.

And then, after a struggle, the human ended the fight by snapping Clay's neck.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Hein worked quickly, tossing the disguised AIA agent's body in a nearby stall before the acid implants started to kick in. The owner of the bar would have to deal with a pile of sludge later, but (probably) wouldn't call the cops.<p>

He then started looking for the dead drop: At first he tried checking the toilet's tank, but realized that since the bartender kept the place so clean, any agent would realize that it would be a pretty lousy spot for a dead drop. After some consideration and an Omni-Tool scan, Hein found a hidden compartment in the metal wall, behind the pipes. Inside the compartment was a small plastic bag, and inside that there was a small holographic data cube, wired to self destruct if anyone attempted to access its encrypted contents.

To Hein, bypassing the security and breaking the encryption was child's play. The data, as expected, was a recording of he and Jensen's earlier conversation, as well as a report hastily written by the dead agent.

_Discovered link between C-Sec Agent Adam Jensen and Chief of DARPA Edgar Hein. Edgar Hein actively opposing AIA and Alliance interests and admits to evading capture by agency already (see attached). Jensen cooperating with Hein, relationship tenuous. Recommend immediate capture, or assassination and sanitization. _

_And to think,_ Hein thought as the dead agent melted in the other stall_, if he had just transmitted this over a wireless, well, we would have seen it, but my enemy would have been alerted, too. Oh well. _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A silence fell between the two men as the autocab made its way to the UNAS docks, where the Durendal was undergoing repairs. They would have been quite content to enjoy the ride quietly, but there was something on Adam's mind.<p>

"Did you get me fired?" he asked bluntly.

"Pardon?" Hein replied.

"I find it hard to believe that Pallin kept a record of my less than legal acts in pursuit of justice and left it just laying around for someone else to find. There was enough dirt for an immediate dismissal."

"Oh? And you think the Broker and I had something to do with that?"

"It seems convenient. With no job and no obligations to the Citadel and a need for maintenance, I'd have little choice but to turn to you for support."

Hein chuckled. "Oh, Adam... I would have done it for giggles...! That is, if you were anyone else. But honestly, me and my patron had way too much invested in your C-Sec career to see it go down in flames."

"Invested?"

"Do you know what any major conspiracy needs to operate in a city like the Citadel? A healthy criminal underground. And boy howdy, did the Citadel have a nasty one!"

"I know. I spent the last six years fighting it."

"And before then, the enemy had plenty of proxies to work with. Once you and Vakarian started cleaning house, well... Their activities became like a black stain on a blank canvas, instead of a black stain on a Pollock. You understand my meaning?"

"I do. But with Pallin gone..."

"Yes. The enemy is going to thrive here. We'll have to do something about that."

"Think your partner can convince Falsum to work with us?"

Hein shook his head. "Our psych profile on her suggests that she's not really interested in keeping the Citadel safe. She's a social climber, and while we could dig up some dirt on her and blackmail her into submission... well, submission isn't cooperation."

"You and Pallin have been working together for a while?"

"Oh, he wanted nothing to do with us at first—"

"Can't imagine why," Adam quipped.

"—But a few freebies from us, and a few solved cases later, Pallin was convinced we were trying to help. And he was only too happy to provide us with information on the criminal organizations of the Citadel. That data was essential in finding Illuminati patterns of activity. Say, Adam... do you have anyone in mind to replace Pallin?"

"Hm? But Falsum's due to succeed him already."

"She's only _acting_ executor. She's pulling strings and calling in favors to get the official... but nothing is set in stone. You've worked in C-Sec for a long time. Know anyone who can fill Pallin's boots?"

Adam thought about it for a bit. "Chellick," he said finally. "He's ambitious, but he takes his job very seriously."

"Hm. I'll check our psych profile on him, and make arrangements."

"...That sounded a bit ominous. Did I just sign Falsum's death warrant?"

"Oh, don't worry." Hein grinned. "My arrangements will involve a secret Zyme habit, a Volus prostitute with camera implants, and a tub of Jello."

"...Too much information."

Hein shrugged. "As for your state of employment, I suspect you'll be receiving a few phone calls very soon. You're a very capable man, Adam, and it won't be long before someone powerful will try to get you on his payroll."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>A few quick hacks by Hein, spoofing a C-Sec IFF, and the Autocab flew past the main starport building and into the Durendal's dock, landing in front of the prototype warship's main cargo hold. Inside, they found close to a hundred of Navy sailors with the USSV Saratoga's insignia on their uniforms, setting up the workspace necessary for four Wanzers, which were waiting outside.<p>

The Deep Eyes, with the exception of Neil, were sitting in a circle on ration crates, discussing recent developments. They hadn't noticed Adam and Hein, so there was an opportunity for the two of them to eavesdrop.

"This... this isn't what I had in mind," complained Grey.

"Sir," said Ryan. "The kid's worth at least four soldiers, or one in heavy power armour."

"I know that, it's just..."

"Times are changing, sir," said Jane. "And hey, we can brag that we're the first Marine unit to have a..." she was the first to notice Adam and Hein, and wordlessly told everyone to get up. "Officer on deck!"

"At ease," said Hein, once the Deep Eyes offered their salutes. "Where's Neil? I'm afraid I've got some bad news for him."

"He's in the showers, sir," replied Grey. "Taking advantage of that fancy one your secretary had the bots install."

"Ah, so he's in a good mood. Let's fix that, shall we?"

As Hein walked away, Grey turned to Adam. "You're here for the Asari."

Adam nodded. "Where is she? The infirmary?"

Grey shook his head. "She didn't go there long. Our new recruit is with her right now, in the back of the cargo hold."

"Kid's been watching over her ever since he found her," said Ryan, smiling. "I think he's got a crush on her."

"Careful Adam," warned Jane. "You might have some competition..."

Adam excused himself, and went looking for Manah. Finding her proved more difficult than expected, as he had to navigate a small maze formed by stacks of supplies piled high by floating cargo bots.

Just as he came around a corner, he came across, of all things, a Roegadyn.

He was easily a head taller than Wrex, though that still made him smaller than most Roegadyn Adam had seen, even with his tree-trunk sized arms. His skin was gray, flushed with the colour of chartreuse liquor. His wild, spiky mane of hair was swept back with gel and shone like gold, matching his eyes. The bridge of his nose was flat and wide, but nowhere near as wide as the four inch line that served as his mouth.

"Hey, you lost?" the giant's voice was deep, but there was a youthful energy to it. From that, and the fact that his jawline was devoid of any hair, Adam suspected that the Roegadyn was probably in still in his 20s, or the Roegadyn equivalent.

What surprised Adam the most, though, was the US Marines' uniform the Roegadyn was wearing. The name MARCUS was sewn above the breast pocket, and the Private's insignia was printed on his epaulettes. Adam also noted that he wore what seemed like a personal shield harness over the uniform, but the configuration was a bit off...

"Hey, wait a minute..." the Roegadyn eyed Adam suspiciously. "Where's your uniform?"

"...I'm with DARPA. Hein didn't give me one." That was mostly true, Adam thought, as he didn't think the 108 in his duffel bag was much of a uniform.

Jensen saw something move in the corner of his eye, and turned around to see a pale girl wearing a short, black and burgundy silk dress, equal parts goth princess (due to the black lace) and cabaret dancer (due to the lack of leg coverage that revealed the equally lacy thigh-high stockings). The outfit even had a miniature top hat on top of her head, which was covered in long, slightly wavy, wine-coloured hair. She was, strangely enough, chasing a small white dog, although she was struggling with her high heels.

If it hadn't been for the colour of her eyes, and the sound of her voice as she called out the dog's name, Adam wouldn't have recognized her at all. _Is that Manah?!_ he thought, surprised. _Why is she dressed like an OCU pop idol? _"Manah!" he called out.

She looked at him in horror, and fled. _What the hell? Was it something I said?_

Just as Adam was about to chase her, Marcus wrapped his huge hand around the cyborg's arm.

"Let me go," Adam said with a cold, menacing edge to his voice.

"Yeah, look, I don't think the girl wants to see you, and I'm supposed to put people that don't belong here in the brig. So come on—"

Just as the giant pulled, Adam dropped his duffel bag and slapped the side of the Roegadyn's head, hard, causing him to let go. Sadly, Adam hadn't hit him hard enough to knock him out, and Marcus stared down at him with a growl.

It was just then that Adam realized that he had just picked a fight with the Hulk.

"Uh oh."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I relieve you," said Commander Alan Simmons, saluting.<p>

"I stand relieved," said Lieutenant Aki Ross, returning the salute.

Commander Alan Simmons was a tall, muscular African-American male in his late thirties, easily as tall as Jensen but nowhere near as bulky as Whitaker. His promotion was recent, but overdue, and he wasn't all that happy about being assigned to the Durendal, as the prestige of the assignment would depend largely on the Council's decision. If Nathaniel Frost was made Spectre, the Durendal would be serving as his mobile base of operations. If not, well... all Simmons would have to command would be a skeleton crew and suffer the indignity of being Hein's new chew toy.

For Ross, it was good to see Simmons once again. They had had a brief courtship back when they were training at the Newport OCS, but circumstances had put a stop to it. She wasn't all that sad, though: Simmons always seemed so driven to succeed, and romance would have been an unneeded distraction, eventually. It was still a bit of a shame: the man loved to work out, and Aki had loved to watch him work out.

"The nightmare is over," said Simmons, cracking a smile. "It's not longer just you and a bunch of marines. From here on in I'll be making reports concerning Hein's activities in your place."

Aki laughed, and allowed herself to relax, leaning on a nearby guardrail. From where she was, she could oversee the entirety of the Durendal's CIC. Sailors were trying to familiarize themselves with their stations with some frustration, as the user interfaces weren't Navy standard. "Ha! I'll believe that when I see it. Still, it'll be nice not to have to worry about commanding the ship in Hein's absence. All I have to worry now is keeping the crew healthy."

"Speaking of Hein, where is he?"

"Galbadia Garden, last I checked. He should still be there."

"The deep space Tarsus installation? What for?"

"He dropped off a few children we picked up on Noveria there... apparently he's arranged Tarsus scholarships for them all until they're old enough to go strike out on their own."

"Free room and board and a full education? For two decades? Awfully generous of him... how did he manage to scrounge up that kind of cash?"

"I honestly have no idea. Maybe he's got connections there? You'll have to ask him once he gets back."

"I intend to... and once I set some ground rules."

"Oh, such as?"

"Such as, 'I am the commander of the ship, not you'."

"Oh, no... just no." Aki shook her head. "Just... no. No no no no. You do not want to handle Hein with a heavy hand."

"I've read your reports, Aki. Some of the higher ups think that a heavy hand is exactly what we need to keep him focused. They think they've indulged him too long, that he's not producing as many military innovations as he could, and I agree."

"Simmons, Hein's discovery at Lugduna means an increase in Medi-Gel effectiveness of thirty percent, and—"

"The Deep Eyes," interrupted Simmons, not interested in any real scientific details. "Are they going to be a problem?"

"A problem? How?"

"They're misfits on paper. But you've been with them long enough. Am I going to have any problems with them?"

"...No, you won't. Grey is their leader, and he knows how to keep them out of trouble."

Just as she said that, Simmons' Omni-Tool beeped. "Simmons here."

_"Sir? This is Ensign Callahan... we got some trouble down in the cargo bay."_

"What kind of trouble?"

_"One of the marines is trying real hard to kill a civilian, sir."_

Aki withered under Simmons' glare.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a roar, then a tackle, then an explosion of crates, then a little bit of panic, and then a lot of cheering as the sailors gathered around to see two superhumans have a not-so-friendly boxing match. Grey had to shove his way past the gathered crowd, and saw that Jensen was desperately trying not to get his head punched clean off. It was a good thing that Marcus wasn't much of a boxer: his swings were wide, and he telegraphed his punches. Adam tried to reason with him, but it was no use: once a Roegadyn's blood was up there was no stopping them until they were dead.<p>

That didn't stop Grey from trying, though. "PRIVATE MARCUS!" he bellowed over the cheers of the crowd. "STAND DOWN!"

Marcus, of course, did not stand down.

"Ryan!" Grey shouted to the marine. "Get to the armoury and bring me some non-lethal kit! We're taking him down!"

"Aye aye!"

When Marcus finally realized that he wasn't fast enough to land a blow on Jensen, he paused just for a moment to pull a switch on his harness. What the computerized voice that came out of it had said had made Grey's blood run cold.

_"Gravity setting lowered to 1G"_

According to his dossier, Marcus had been born and raised on Earth. Unfortunately, that meant growing up in an environment substantially different from Amaethon, the Roegadyn homeworld. While the air was more nourishing, the atmospheric pressure wasn't quite the same, and most importantly the gravity was substantially lower. To prevent him from getting malformed bones and muscles, Marcus was forced to wear a Lunarian Grav Harness with its polarity reversed at all times throughout his childhood.

This of course meant that whenever Marcus switched his Grav Harness off, he became substantially faster. Grey had seen how terrifyingly fast a Roegadyn i environment could be, and knew that Adam was now in a whole lot of trouble.

"Ryan! Hurry up!" Grey looked around, and realized that the sailors had moved the armoury on another level, and that Ryan would take too long getting back. "Time for some OSP..." he said, as he made his way past the crowd.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!"<strong>_ screamed Marcus, as he unleashed a flurry of straights and jabs that should have turned Adam into paste. He smiled joyfully, believing that victory was within reach.

He was disabused of the notion when Adam managed to land a well-timed, electromagnetically assisted cross-counter on his face. Dazed, he attempted a wild haymaker that Adam elbow-blocked with some difficulty. Had Marcus followed that up with a liver blow with his left, Adam would not have been able to pull his arm over his shoulder for a judo throw that put the giant on his back.

"Had enough?!" shouted Adam, as he tried to pin the Roegadyn with an arm lock.

"NOPE!" said Marcus, as he casually got up with Adam wrapped around his arm and slammed the cyborg down on the ground. With Adam stunned, Marcus leapt up three metres into the air to execute an elbow drop. Just as he was about to land, though, Adam brought both his legs up for a kick to Marcus' exposed side.

Neither blow had the chance to land, as the _Frost_'s giant metal hand caught Marcus in mid-air. **"ENOUGH!" **shouted Grey over the Wanzer's loudspeakers as he wrapped both of the machine's manipulators around Marcus' torso. Even at 219 centimetres, the Roegadyn seemed like a small child compared to a 6 metre tall, heavily armoured Frost. **"ALL OF YOU, **_**DISPERSE!**_** THIS IS **_**NOT**_** A GODDAMNED ARENA!"**

The gathered sailors took their cue to leave and get back to work. Marcus, meanwhile, kept struggling against the Frost's grip.

**"I TOLD YOU TO STAND DOWN, PRIVATE!"** shouted Grey, squeezing Marcus tighter.

"But sir!" protested Marcus, like some kid at a playground. "I was trying to apprehend a bad guy!"

**"YOU WERE TRYING TO KILL A CIVILIAN, THAT'S WHAT YOU WERE DOING! DO YOU REALIZE THE TROUBLE YOU'RE IN?!"**

"But he's got an evil beard! And Manah — I mean, Dr. T'soni — was scared of him, and ran away, and he tried to chase her!"

**"SCARED OF HIM, HUH?"**

"Yeah, scared!"

The Frost swivelled around, allowing Marcus to get a good look at the scene below. Manah was kneeling besides Adam, worried out of her mind for his life as he lay there, wincing and struggling to stay conscious.

"Adam? Adam, are you alright?..."

"I'm... I'm okay," he replied, struggling to get back up. "I just need to lay down for a minute... or two..."

It was then that Whitaker and Proudfoot came with a few guns and the two Krogan in tow. The female, who was no stranger to battlefield medicine, quickly got to work in examining him and setting up a stretcher to carry him to the infirmary.

"Ooooooh, I get it now..." Marcus said, finally understanding his mistake.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!" Everyone looked up to see Commander Simmons staring down from the upper walkway.

And then, Marcus' concussion finally kicked in, robbing him of consciousness.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside the infirmary, Hein was having a heated argument with Commander Simmons over the presence of Adam Jensen — a wanted fugitive on earth — aboard what could well be flagship of the first human Spectre. More accurately, Simmons was arguing. Hein just nodded and looked like he wasn't taking this seriously at all, as usual.<p>

"Do you understand the term 'political shitstorm', Hein?" said Simmons, which made Hein roll his eyes. "Do you understand that the USMC cannot afford to associate with Adam Jensen, of all people?"

Hein, of course, was ready with an explanation. "Technically, it's not."

"Oh, so who the hell is getting patched up in my infirmary, then? _JC Denton?_"

"If you'll allow me to explain..."

"You know what, I don't care! There's only one way for us to save face, and that's to put him under arrest and on a shuttle straight to earth!"

Just as Simmons was about to move into the infirmary and order Grey to put Adam in the brig, Hein stopped him by putting his hand over Simmons' chest.

"Hein," warned Simmons, practically looming over Hein, "_don't_ touch me."

"First, this is _my_ ship, not yours, and I'll touch whoever I want. Second, as I was about to explain, Adam Jensen is here for one reason, and that reason is... oh, well, let me show you."

Hein let out a loud whistle, and Simmons heard the footfalls of a great mechanical beast slowly approaching, coming around the corner. It was a robot, shaped like a dog but easily twice the size of a man. It was painted matte blue, silver, and white: the colours of C-Sec. It looked upon Simmons and let out a low growl.

"Meet my prototype! The first of what I hope of what will be C-Sec's army of robot dogs! Adam Jensen is here on an official capacity to pick him up and deliver him to C-Sec Academy, where the machine will be tested."

Simmons just glared at him, incredulous. "You're selling American military technology to _aliens_?"

"Technically I'm selling OCU military technology to the aliens — the prototype is based on some Tokugawa Heavy Industries designs leaked on the extra-net. Surely you don't object me making a little cash and sticking it to the Ossies?"

"No, but that changes nothing about our present situation. Adam Jensen's headed back to Earth in chains. Have C-Sec send somebody else."

The dog mech growled more loudly, stopping Simmons.

"Third," continued Hein, "The Alliance has been trying — quite unsuccessfully! — to get Jensen extradited back to Earth for years, and you'll do no better. I'm quite certain C-Sec will take it reeeeaaaallly bad if you abduct one of their cops. In fact, it may cause a — what did you call it — a shitstorm of politics? And it will cause one: I've called Jensen's partner and alerted him to the situation. He should be here soon."

The dog mech approached Simmons, scalpel teeth bared and whirring at high-frequencies.

"Fourth," added Hein, "in preparation, I added Adam Jensen's profile into the prototype's IFF subroutine as 'Ally'. Which means that anyone threatening him will go from 'Neutral' to 'Hostile'. And guess what? Loudly declaring that you want Adam Jensen imprisoned _counts as a threat_."

"Hein! Call off your hound!"

"Fifth, you keep telling me what to do, and I don't like you very much. So no."

The hound roared and Simmons took his cue to run like hell.

"DON'T WORRY!" Hein shouted down the hall, snickering at the sight of a Navy officer being chased by a robot dog. "HIS KIT IS NON-LETHAL!" Then, he added: "IT'LL STILL HURT LIKE HELL, THOUGH, FAIR WARNING!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So," said Hein as he approached Bakara, who was tending Marcus' skull. "Sitrep?"<p>

"The sitrep?" said Grey, who had been glaring at the Roegadyn the whole time the Krogan doctor drilled a tiny hole in his skull for a osmotherapy needle. "The sitrep is that Private 2nd Class Marcus engaged Adam Jensen in a fight, and when ordered to disengage he disobeyed and kept going."

"...I see," replied Hein, fishing out a cigarillo out of his coat. Before he could light it, Bakara cleared her throat and gave him a harsh glare that made him put it back. "Any particular reason why he felt he needed to attack Jensen?"

"Doesn't matter," dismissed Grey. "Roegadyn are worse than Krogan when it comes to picking a fight."

Wrex, who was standing right there in case Marcus acted up, let out an annoyed grunt.

Hein, on the other hand, just gave Grey an appraising look, eyebrow raised. "You don't say."

"I think it's pretty obvious that Private Marcus is not Deep Eyes material, or even Marines material, and—"

"No."

"...Sir?"

Hein ignored Grey and addressed Bakara. "And how is our Jolly Green Giant?"

"He'll be fine," said Bakara. "His brain is no longer swollen, and I just fitted him with a couple of mending units. His bones will fuse back together in two hours."

"Good, wake him up."

Bakara glared at Hein. "No."

"You said he was going to be fine?"

"Yes, but as long as he gets his bed rest."

"Well, that's a shame, I guess I'll just BACON!"

"BACOOOON!" yelled Marcus as his eyes widened and he shot up from his bed, ripping out the reinforced straps meant to keep him down. Wrex acted immediately, using his own strength and biotics to keep the young giant down. Grey, meanwhile, instinctively came between Hein and Marcus, though his eyes were glancing over where Aki was.

When Wrex failed to keep the giant still, Bakara decided to simply grab him by the ear. "OW OW OW OW Hey, what gives?!" asked Marcus, wincing in pain.

"Stay put," said Bakara.

"Aderyn," greeted Hein.

"Hey Eddie!" Marcus greeted back. "Did I fall asleep? I feel a bit sleepy, and hungry. I heard something about bacon?"

"Later," said Hein. "I'm here to ask you about an incident in the cargo hold? Captain Grey here seems to think you picked a fight with Adam Jensen for no good reason."

"Hey, I had a good reason!" Marcus was indignant.

"Did you now?"

"Yeah, I caught him walking around the cargo hold without authorization, looking suspicious with his evil beard and shades. Then Manah caught sight of him and ran, and I stopped him from going after her. Just as I was about to drag him to the brig, he punches me!"

"Is that so?" Hein eyed Grey meaningfully. "So he punched you, you punched him back, one thing led to another and a fight ensued, is that correct?"

"Pretty much."

"And why didn't you disengage when ordered to, Private?" asked Grey, arms crossed over his chest.

"I didn't hear any orders to disengage..." replied Marcus. "I remember a lot of cheering, though, and my ears ringing, but I don't remember anyone telling me to stop."

"Typical," said Grey, looking meaningfully at Hein... who was actually more interested in watching T'soni, who was speaking to Adam as Aki examined him.

"I'm curious... why is T'soni dressed like a vampire cabaret dancer?" asked Hein. "Not that I'm complaining... but there's a story there, right?"

"Oh, I bought that outfit for her," replied Marcus. Hein quirked an eyebrow at him. Despite his thick skull, Marcus quickly realized what that sounded like. "I-I mean, I didn't force her to dress like that, or, em, heheh... It was a disguise!"

"Start from the beginning," commanded Hein.

"Right, well..." Marcus cleared his throat and told the tale of how he had rescued Manah from the crash. Thinking that she might be a criminal on the run, he had brought her to a pod hotel to let her recover. When she had awoken, there had been an awkward moment where she had thought he was her captor.

"Can't imagine why," commented Grey.

"I know, right?" replied Marcus, "Anyways, Finn convinced her..."

"Finn?" asked Grey.

"That's my dog! Anyways, he convinced her that I actually wasn't a bad guy, and we got to talking over sodas..."

... and Manah explained to him that there were some bad people out there that wanted both her and a precious artifact she had been carrying. Also, by what Marcus thought was some amazing coincidence, Manah had turned out to be a crew member of the very ship he had been assigned to.

"So, I took it upon myself to bring her here!"

"Why didn't you just call the cops?" asked Grey.

Marcus blew a raspberry, "I don't trust cops! They're jerks! Anyways..."

He went on to explain that they started making their way towards the Presidium by foot, but they had taken a few steps before both their stomachs started growling. Out of cash for food, Marcus went in a pawn shop run by a friendly Omar and sold him his blitz ball.

"It's got Ryan Tida's signature on it, so it was worth quite a bit. Got twenty grand for it, too! Anyways, we had both gotten our second bowl of fried Greasel on Rice when Manah caught sight of some asari in red armour. I got a bad feeling about them, so we tried sneaking out... that, um, didn't work too well. They chased us and then cornered us. Anyways, we finally hitched a cab to the center of town, and—"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Grey, once again. "I'm missing something here: how did you escape the Asari?"

Sheepishly, Marcus pressed his two index fingers together. "I uh, I don't know. I blacked out for a bit, and when Manah shook me awake one of the Asari was crushed dead, the rest were running away screaming, and the lights were off everywhere. It was kinda scary."

"Interesting..." said Hein. "Continue."

"Anyways, as we were riding the cab, we got to talking about Manah wearing a disguise, as we still had a bit of trekking to do around town to find the Durendal. I thought she could pull off looking like a human to throw the bad guys off the scent, but she said she wouldn't know where to start with a disguise, and that she didn't like being touched by strangers — which I thought was weird because I touched her plenty of times and she didn't mind — but anyways! — I took her to one of those OCU clothing stores. You know, the ones with the automatic booths? I told her she could pick any outfit and the machine would dress her up."

"And she picked... that?" asked Grey.

Marcus shrugged. "I think she screwed up the selection, somehow. It's all good, though: it came with a wig! Nobody can tell the difference between an Asari and a human once they got hair on!... and uh, paint their skin white, I guess?"

"Not exactly covert," commented Grey.

"It's so _overt_, it's _covert_," snickered Hein. "Nobody would suspect that a fugitive would dress so outlandishly. Seeing as T'soni is back with us, I'd say it worked quite well. One question though: How did she react once she stepped out of the booth?"

Marcus's face contorted in a goofy grin. "She was SO cute! Her face was all red and she was trembling!"

"I see. And is there any more to this story? Did you encounter any other hostiles?"

"Ah, nope," answered Marcus. "We didn't get in any more trouble on the way."

"Thank you, Aderyn," said Hein as he took out a bacon sandwich out of his coat and handed it to the Roegadyn. "That will be all. Grey, can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Marcus stays," said Hein, flatly. "And yes, you have permission to speak freely."<p>

"Sir, he's not Marine material!"

"He got through basic just fine."

"What's basic training to a giant like him?! He has no discipline, and no self-control!"

"Trust me, Drill Sergeant Barnaky kept his considerable physical strength in mind. As for his self-control, well, I can't help but notice that he didn't go berserk when the Krogan manhandled him. Funny, that."

"So?"

"He's not a wild animal, Grey, no matter how badly you _want_ him to be."

"I'm just calling it as I see it, sir."

"No you're not. You're bitching about the FNG as if the Deep Eyes is above getting one. You're right though: he's in terrible need of discipline, and the only way he'll get it is through experience."

"And the incident with Jensen? You're going let him get away with it?"

"The only fault I see in his actions is trying to put Adam in the brig without authorization from a superior. For that, I'm thinking latrine duty. To be fair, Adam isn't entirely blameless either: hitting Marcus was not exactly a very mature response. And T'soni? Well, if she could have controlled her embarrassment a little better none of this would have happened in the first place."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Outside the Durendal, Garrus greeted Adam as he came out of the cargo bay, with Hannibal in tow.<p>

"You look like shit," said Garrus. "What happened?"

"Same to you," replied Adam. "Overall I'd say I had a really shitty day: Got fired, found out Pallin's dead, and then I got a in a fight with Roegadyn. On the other hand, T'soni's fine and back aboard the ship."

"Really?" said Garrus as he opened the rear doors to his police cruiser. Adam tossed his stuff in the back seat, while Hannibal made room for itself. "What? No sneaking into a secure compound? No shoot-out? No acts of thrilling heroics?"

"Nope, none," said Adam as he got onto the passenger's seat. "The Roegadyn rescued her."

"Well, there's a story there," Garrus said as he took the driver's seat and closed all the doors. "Mind bringing me up to speed?"

Adam told Garrus his perspective on recent events. It didn't take long: Adam was not one for embellishments.

"So," said Garrus finally. "You two basically fought over a skirt."

"I guess you could say that," snickered Adam.

"Women," Garrus snorted. "Always trouble. I should know."

"Really?"

"I just fought a few Asari agents, so yeah, really, I know."

"What? When did that happen?"

Garrus brought Adam up to speed on recent events. He had been, as luck would have it, assigned to investigate the crash site of Tela Vasir's craft. He had looked for signs of T'soni, but couldn't find any. Much of the evidence had been burned away or turned to slag. "It fell smack in the middle of an old warehouse. Place was inhabited — squatters and vagrants, mostly. A lot of people didn't make it but... Eyewitnesses claim that a green giant helped quite a few people escape the blaze. Your Roegadyn, maybe?"

"Maybe."

"Well, he's a hero to these folk, apparently."

"Huh."

Garrus continued with his story. While there had been slag everywhere, caused by an unknown, high-energy fluid, much of the craft remained intact. He had taken a few scans, and had found a couple of intact thrusters. He had called for a recovery team, and that had been when things got interesting.

"Usually this kind of recovery work is assigned to Salarians," said Garrus. "Not to be racist, but besides quarians these guys are the ones to call when dealing with high tech. I got a little suspicious when they sent two Asari instead. Everything seemed to check out about them, but... my instincts told me I should keep an eye on them. And I was right to do it: Once they extracted the thrusters out of the wreck, I caught them putting fusion charges all around the site. Small, discreet bombs, too. Overheard them saying it would look like some kind of reactor overload."

"And that's when you intervened."

"Yep. One of them managed to get to their car, but I managed to shoot off one of the stabilizers, made the chase easy. Tried to take them alive, but..."

"But they had a suicide implant."

"Right you are. Their brains exploded. I asked Bailey to do a check on them, and couldn't find any traces of their identities. Ghosts, in other words."

"Ghosts... or Spectres?"

"Doubt it. Spectres aren't afraid of throwing their weight around. Well, I got away with the prize. See that suitcase at your feet?"

"The one marked 'hazardous materials'?"

"That's the one. Open it and see."

Inside the case were two silver spindles of intricate mechanical design, each cored with a glowing blue jewel and about the length of Adam' forearms.

"So _those_ are the thrusters, huh? Interesting."

"Two out of six. I _assume_ they're thrusters, since they were in Vasir's craft's main nacelles. Kind of wish I could have recovered a weapon, though, but I can't be picky. They look pretty powerful, considering how fast she zipped by us in the Scrapyard."

"So, are you going to bring this to C-Sec Academy?"

"Here's a funny idea: No."

"Why not?"

"Come on, Adam, with all that's happening, do you really trust Falsum not to make those things disappear?"

Adam had to admit, between Manah being hunted down by the Justicars all the way to the Citadel and Garrus' encounter with a couple of spooks, Asari were not high on his list of people to trust at the moment.

It was then that Adam received an email alert from his Omni-Tool.

"Who's that from?" asked Garrus.

"Let me check... huh. Got quite a few emails here, one of them a video from a... Ambassador Cherdenko? The hell?"

Adam played the video, and the image of the ambassador — a middle-aged, slightly portly Russian man dressed in the grey, red and gold of the Coalition — came to life. _"__здравствуйте__, Mr.__ Jensen..."_ his mouth, framed by a salt-and-pepper goatee, never stopped grinning. _"A little bird had told me you are in need of employment, and on behalf of the Coalition, I am willing to trade some very valuable resources in exchange for your services. If you are interested, come and see me aboard the Agamemnon. You cannot miss it, It's the rather large red ship floating above you."_

"I've got other messages here," said Adam. "One from the WTO, another from the UNAS embassy on the Citadel, another forwarded to me by Hein by some European captain who wants to purchase the 108, and another by an OCU PMC called 'Vampire'."

"Well, you're not going to stay unemployed for long. Aren't you going to send a reply?"

"They can wait until I've paid my respects."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Walking through the halls of the C-sec morgue, as Adam saw it, felt more like walking through a large mausoleum of steel and frosted glass. There were thousands of stasis pods on the walls, marked with holographic tags and piled two stories high. Most of which contained the remains of victims found in crime scenes, or those of agents fallen in the line of duty. Many of those remains had been stored here for years, if not decades, awaiting the day they would be claimed for a decent burial or preserved in case a cold case was reopened.<p>

Adam, due to Aleph's influence, now knew that this place had in fact once been a mausoleum, back in the days that the Citadel was called Sigil. How it went from mausoleum to morgue, Adam had no real idea, and he wondered what had happened to the bodies that were interned here. He saw a Keeper, one of the insectoid creatures that had been taking care of the Citadel since its creation, and thought perhaps that he should ask it, once he was done with his business here.

Euridycia led Garrus, Adam and Hannibal to the preparation room, where Pallin's body had been laid out on a slab, a sheet of plastic covering it entirely. The overhead light cast a beam of light, scattered by the heavy fog generated by the other stasis chambers in the room.

"The coroner will be back in about half an hour," said Euridycia, worried.

"Plenty of time," said Garrus.

"Would you like me to leave you alone?" she asked.

"You can stay," said Adam.

Turians, in general, were not too concerned with funerary rites, dedicating few resources to them. Coloured by the realities of war, burial ceremonies on Palaven were spartan, somber affairs, involving the placing of a small monument — akin to human burial stones — on designated ground. The body was not even required, as more often than not recovery was not possible. Far more important was the placing of an item within the stone, believed to be imbued with the spirit of the dead person it belonged to. Turians being soldiers, this was usually a codex medallion, or 'dog tags' as humans liked to call them. This was a holdover from the myriad animist faiths far more common in Palaven's distant past.

Another holdover from those days was the Vigil. A fallen soldier's brethren watched over his body until the priests were ready to begin the funerary rites, keeping looters and scavenging critters away. A tradition was formed from there, in which the dead soldier's comrades would tell each other stories, reminiscing about his or her exploits before he fell.

These days, more practical notions prevailed. Soldiers no longer had to wait till morning to see to it that the body was taken care of, and it was in fact expected for soldiers to strip their fallen bare of any equipment. However, the Codex always came first, and the tradition to speak of the fallen over their bodies before they were recovered (or, if not possible, destroyed) was observed to this day, whenever circumstances allowed it.

"Shouldn't we bring a priest for this?" said Adam, unaware of any of these facts.

"The only priests around these days lead cults," said Garrus, taking out a flask from his Agent Mk II's leg pack. "Do you want to go first?"

"...Could we see his face?" asked Adam.

Euridycia and Garrus assumed it was some sort of human tradition, but the truth of the matter was that Adam wanted to be certain it was really Pallin on that slab. Slowly, and respectfully, Euridycia uncovered the body's face, and all doubt vanished. Garrus was unnerved: it was the first time he saw Pallin bare-faced, lacking all markings.

"Oh, spirits... What happened?" asked Garrus, nodding at the heavily sutured neck.

"I... I thought you were aware of the circumstances of his death..." replied Euridycia.

"Falsum wasn't keen on giving us details," said Adam.

Euridycia sighed. "Pallin was found dead in his office at C-Sec Academy, and the cause of death had been, put simply, 'decapitation through extreme torque'."

Adam and Garrus looked at one another, keenly aware of the alarms now ringing in their head.

"I uh, I'm sorry, Garrus," said Adam, winking twice. "I can't stand to see him like this: just... ruined."

"It's okay, I understand. There's always the monument ceremony, right?"

"Right... Excuse me." He nodded at Hannibal, and beckoned him to follow.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"I can tell you are not as distraught about this as you said you are," <strong>_said Hannibal, sub-vocally.

_"Right you are,"_ replied Adam wirelessly, as he went looking for an access node to the C-Sec Morgue's WLAN. A few Breaches later, he deactivated the facility's internal sensors and set them to reactivate in about ten minutes. He looked around, making sure he was seen by nothing and no one, and cloaked. With the sensors disabled, no one would be alerted to the sudden spike of electromagnetic energy that was walking the halls.

_"Garrus," _he said over Garrus' codec frequency._ "I'm going to have a look at Pallin's case file. Keep Euridycia distracted." _He switched channels._ "Hannibal? Stay here for now."_

_**"Understood."**_

From the entrance to the preparation chamber, the pathologists' office was located on the other side of the chamber, with Euridycia right in the way. Adam quickly regretted asking her to stay, but at the time he didn't know he was going to sneak in there. He knew that Pallin had been murdered — C-Sec's morgue didn't take in bodies that died of natural causes — and thought that someone in Homicide would look into it. Seeing the damage to Pallin's neck had motivated him to look into things himself, badge or no.

Adam stepped carefully, and stayed out of Euridycia's field of vision. A trained crime scene investigator, she could spot the subtle parallax distortions of a moving person under cloak.

_**"Keep your distance,"**_ advised Hannibal._**"Biotics react to strong EM fields."**_

_"I know," _said Adam, remembering his confrontation with Lawson in the toilets.

The next challenge was to open the door to the office, since there was no conveniently placed airvent that would allow him to get in and out of there. Breaching the door was easy, opening it without the hiss alerting Euridycia was the problem. Adam approached the door, staying very close to it, and activated his integrated noise cancelling system and set it to maximum. The silence around him was deafening, but it had worked: the door slid open without a hiss.

Adam walked up to the pathologist's desk, stirring the desktop computer awake from its Sleep Mode. He jacked into it, did a search on Pallin, and got a few hits: scan data, autopsy footage, and text files.

The pathologist had been quite earnest in his work, knowing full well that the death of a cop — especially an Executor's — would be a priority case. He did a thorough examination, but found nothing that could immediately point to a suspect. There was no foreign material on the body, biological or otherwise. The only things of note were the bruising on the shoulders and around the skull: four spots, two on the sides of the head, two on the shoulders.

_Two of them did this,_ Adam concluded. _One held him down, the other twisted his head off. Goddamn them._

The report went on to describe the damage to, of all things, Pallin's lungs. According to the report, Pallin was in the final stages of _Exscreo, _the Turian equivalent to Bowden's Malady. By the pathologist's estimation, Pallin had only months to live before the rest of his organs shut down completely. Tissue samples had been taken, though results from the lab had not been delivered yet.

More clinical details: stomach contents at time of death: what appears to be stewed beef, seasoned in what has been identified as cumin, coriander, fenugreek, chilli peppers, fennel seed, and cinnamon.

Curry, in other words.

_That's weird, _thought Adam._ There's no way Pallin would be adventurous enough to try curry. Garrus tried it once. It wasn't pretty._

The emails were a lot more interesting. Once the work was done, the pathologist in charge of Pallin's autopsy had started asking when the detective in charge of the case would get here. It had not been long before he was told that a detective hadn't been assigned just yet. The pathologist had kept probing as to why this case wasn't being given the attention it deserved, before he had finally been sent an email by none other than Falsum herself. She thanked him for his diligence, and reassured him that Pallin's case would become top priority once all 'that business with the humans' died down.

Adam looked for any mention of Pallin's personal effects, hoping for another potential clue. Every item found on Pallin's had been vacuum sealed and put in a box. Adam made note of the box's code, and got out of the office.

_"Garrus, Hannibal, looks like you're going on a sneaking mission of your own..."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Please remind me why I agreed to do this?" <strong>_said Hannibal sub-vocally to Garrus, as the robot and the Turian climbed the white marble steps of C-Sec Academy.

Garrus, for his part, was thinking the same thing: He was, after all taking an AI into the very heart of the security force, probably the biggest mistake in the history of mistakes, but when Adam had asked him to do it, he hadn't so much as complained. What he had found in the reports was a little odd, and Garrus agreed with him when he said they needed to know what Pallin had been up to, up to the moment of his death.

The primary objective: Covertly enter Evidence Storage, then find and examine Pallin's personal effects.

The secondary objective: Covertly enter and search Pallin's office.

It sounded simple enough, and Garrus was confident he could pull it off on his own. Why did he have to take a highly illegal synthetic dog with him, he did not know.

"Hannibal, shut up," he said in a hushed tone, not really looking at him. "Keep talking and everyone here will know what you are."

Hannibal growled in response. _**"I am not actually speaking to you, Turian."**_

_"You two play nice,"_ scolded Adam over an encrypted channel. He would be handling electronic support, keeping an eye on Garrus and Hannibal via the Academy's sensors. _"I see you in the lobby. Play it cool, act casual."_

With Hannibal in tow, Garrus casually walked up to the receptionist's desk. There, he found a human with silver mirrored shades, sitting back casually with his feet up on the desk, playing some kind of card game on a holo-pad projected by his omni-tool.

"Bob?" said Garrus. "What are you doing behind a desk?"

"Vakarian," replied Bob. "The fuck if I know. I got a call from Sapient Resources, said some cocksuckers had a problem with my attitude, and that I needed to learn some people skills. So now I have to tell some snot-nosed punk-ass cadets where the bathroom is every god-damned day of the week."

Garrus had to admit, while Bob wasn't the most outstanding cop in the Citadel, he certainly belonged on the street. "That's SR for you."

"Yeah." Bob put his feet down and sat up properly, though he didn't turn his Omni-Tool off. "Welcome to C-Sec Academy Blah blah blah what are you doing here, Vakarian?"

"I'm here to deliver this mech to the Armory, so that they can put it to the test."

"What mech?"

It was then that Hannibal suddenly stood up and put his paws on the desk, barking loudly at Bob, wagging its long prehensile tail. The metal chevrons that composed the sword-tail had been removed, much to Garrus' relief.

"WHOA!" Bob nearly fell back. "The fuck?!"

"Yeah, I know," said Garrus, it's a little unconventional."

"Thought C-Sec had a no mech policy?"

"We do and we don't. We don't send mechs out on patrol on their own, but we are allowed to deploy them to support agents. It's a compromise the anti-synthetic lobbyists aren't happy with, but they can't complain."

"Huh... can definitely see the perks of a robot K-9 unit..." said Bob. "Well, go on through." Bob tapped a haptic button on his desk, and two of the security gates' holograms turned green, waiting for someone to go through. Garrus took his leave, and went through...

_...Something feels off_, thought Garrus. _Wait a second!_ "Hey Bob!" he called out. "Aren't the security sensors working? I don't hear them humming!"

"They're broke!"

"...You're joking," said Garrus, disbelievingly.

"Nope! I've written a report but apparently not a fuck was given and I've yet to see the techs come in and fix the problem!"

Garrus shook his head and made his way towards the elevators.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>"Would you like me to turn off the muzak?"<strong> asked Hannibal, after 5 minutes in the elevator had passed.

"Oh no!" protested Garrus. "I'm not giving an AI access to any electronics here! I'll be damned if I unleash an AI into C-Sec's internal network!"

**"...I cannot actually do that, you know."**

"You're an AI," retorted Garrus.

**"In the sense that I am intelligent and man-made, yes. However, my... 'self', is an inextricable part of my processor core. I cannot be 'unleashed' into a network, any more than Jensen can, as I cannot 'copy' myself indefinitely. Even if I could... there would be protocol issues."**

_"But you're a pretty good hacker, right?"_ asked Adam. _"I remember you breaching my comms back on Noveria."_

**"I do come equipped with a cyber-warfare suite, installed in my secondary electronics. I have instantaneous input to its programs, and a much faster processing speed than a human brain, on par with a salarian one, along with a much faster reflex arc... despite my advantages, however, I estimate that Fawkes Moody is a better hacker than I am."**

"What makes you say that?" asked Garrus.

**"He has a much better understanding of the intricacies of programming than I do. He can come up with a line of malicious code on the fly, as per his needs. I cannot, as I was not instructed in such things."**

"Hm..." Garrus pondered this silently, letting another minute pass by. The muzak looped, grating on the nerves. "Okay, I have to ask," he finally said. "Why a dog?"

**"Pardon?"**

"Why did your creators make you into a dog?"

**"Practical reasons."**

"...Care to elaborate on that?"

Hannibal sighed. **"My project was severely underfunded and understaffed. My... parents had to make do with what they had. And what they had was a Hahne-Kedar FENRIR and not much else."**

"But couldn't they have put you in a humanoid frame later on, like one of those Copleys?"

**"No. I was too used to walking on four legs by then."**

"Couldn't they reprogram you to walk on two legs?"

**"Could your parents reprogram _you_?"**

"Ah...err..."

**"In any case... being a dog just felt right to me. I don't know why... now, may I please turn off the muzak?"**

_"I got it," _said Adam, and as if by magic, the muzak stopped, much to everyone's relief.

Another minute, and Hannibal felt the urge to break the silence. Garrus couldn't identify the awful stream of noise that Hannibal's voice box spewed forth, and had to ask Adam what it was.

_"I think it's Gilbert and Sullivan,"_ replied Adam._ "That's nice."_

"Nice?...Adam? I died on Noveria, right? Clearly, this is hell."

_"Yes, you're in hell, but it'll only last 5 minutes. Suck it up until then, soldier."_

**"...and his fist should ever be ready for a knockdown bloooooooooow..."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Evidence Storage. it was essentially a warehouse five stories high and it took up the surface area of a football field, on 4 other floors. In that place was stored the physical data of a thousand years of cases. Murders, thefts, frauds, even traffic collisions. Countless scenes had been examined, dissected, and documented. Every object out of the ordinary found in those scenes by the techs had been catalogued, put in strongboxes, and carted off by drones in one of the Evidence Storage's many, MANY aisles.<p>

Getting in the processing area was not a problem... if you had business there. If you didn't, you'd be eyed with suspicion and then Internal Affairs would be called to have a few words with you. Getting into the storage area from the outside was out of the question unless you had access to an industrial laser or a small nuke, as the walls were reinforced with a thick sandwich of reinforced metals and ceramics.

Thus, they needed some evidence to store, and the only crime scene they had access to at this point was, of course, Pallin's office. The only obstacle on the way were some holographic police tape and a couple of guards at the entrance.

_**"Allow me,"**_ said Hannibal, retracting his scalpel teeth. As he approached the pair of guards at Pallin's door, he could hear them talk.

"So, how come you didn't assigned to the Presidium Tower?" asked the human woman, a redhead. "I hear Falsum put all of the other Asari on the detail."

The other guard, an Asari, just shrugged. "Probably because I'm a dryblood."

"I... I don't know what that is."

"It means I'm not a biotic."

"I thought all Asari were biotic!"

"Well, not all, hence the term 'dryblood'... Hey, what's this?"

Hannibal sat down in front of the pair, and panted expectantly, like an actual robot dog. The redhead was ecstatic, and quickly knelt down to scratch Hannibal behind the ears, treating him like a real dog. The Asari watched this curiously, amused at the woman's enthusiasm.

Thus softened, it was easier for Garrus to sell them on his story: He was Detective Valerius, and he had just been assigned to the Pallin case. Said story had a couple of holes, most notably that he had been assigned a VI partner to assist him in the investigation, but Hannibal played the loveable puppy act so well they were in far too good a mood to question 'Valerius' any further, and let him through.

Pallin's C-Sec Academy office wasn't quite as spartan and sterile as the one in the Embassy: Here, he had indulged is love for Turian Brutalist architecture. The walls of grey-brown porous stone had been chipped and chiselled to appear to be made out of a multitude of oddly shaped, interlocking blocks, all sticking out of or sinking into the surface. It seemed as if all the parts could become a perfectly smooth wall if one could simply push all the blocks into place, but one actually couldn't, and Garrus wondered if there was some sort of symbolism there.

There was a holographic representation of Pallin's corpse's position sitting at the desk, slumped and headless, and Garrus couldn't help but stare at it. The 'head' was next to the glass bookshelf.

"The only time the lab techs came was to recover the body and set up the floor force field," said the Asari cop, lightly stomping her foot on the mass effect barrier that kept the blood on the floor intact, along with any other unseen piece of of evidence. "So everything should be perfectly preserved." She pointed at the nearby Keeper, working on its station, practically a piece of furniture. "Of course, there's no accounting for that."

"Thank you," said Garrus, dismissing her.

Accessing Pallin's computer was proving to be difficult: it was on, but password locked, and with no clues as to what it might be, Garrus attempted to jack in with his Omni-Tool. He was unsuccessful. Not suprising, considering this was a VIP machine locked tight with C-Sec's own brand of ICE. Physically tampering with the machine was out of the question, of course: the failsafe would detonate and kill the memory. Adam, from the outside, would not be much help, as he was busy making sure that Garrus was invisible to any sensors on the floor. Besides that, the machine was not connected to the Academy's network, and he told Garrus quite frankly that the turian detective's Omni-Tool's specs weren't to the task of cracking Pallin's machine, even by proxy.

_**"Allow me,"**_ said Hannibal once more, and promptly jacked into the machine. While the robot worked on bypassing the password lock entirely, Garrus had a look around.

The pattern of the blood splatter seemed off, somehow. Garrus had assumed that whoever had taken out Pallin had done so quickly, and violently, but judging by the fact that there was no blood on the walls, he quickly concluded that whoever had torn off his head had taken his time doing it. Also, there were no signs of a struggle: Pallin would have certainly tried to defend himself, or at least yell or shout as he was being pinned down to be beheaded. Had he been unconscious the whole time?

That made the position of Pallin's head all the more suspicious. If the head hadn't just simply flown off, then it had been placed there. Garrus looked the bookshelf the head was right next to, and his eyes scanned the spines of many, many books. So far, there was nothing a proud self-respecting turian would not read. There were books on strategy, military history, warships, hand weapons... and then there had been the more relevant tomes to Pallin's career: Military law, civilian law, non-lethal tactics and weaponry, criminal psychology. And then there had been the rare and obscure: There, at the top shelf, right next to a book on the Terran Latin alphabet, was a hardcover copy of_ Atreus' Puzzles in the Isle of Mist, _a classic that was worth easily half a million credits. But the strangest, most unexpected book was the one after Puzzles:

_Toma's Tome of Tuchankan Tall Tales. Turian Edition._

"Huh," said Garrus out loud. "I didn't know Pallin liked Krogan mythology." Knowing that the unusual was often worth examining further, Garrus took the book from the shelf and opened.

There, between the illustration of a Dayak and a story full of bloody vengeance and glorious battle, was a square piece of plastic, eight inches in diameter, with a hole in the middle and an opening that reminded Garrus of that Terran English symbol for surprises. "Adam?" Garrus said out loud as he beheld the piece of plastic. It was so thin, and felt so flimsy in his gloved hand that he thought he might break it just by sneezing on it. "I found something. Mind taking a look at it through my visor?"

_"...Son of a bitch,"_ said Adam after a moment. _"Is that an 8-inch floppy disk?"_

"Ah, so you know what it is?"

_"Yeah, it's a 20th century data storage device. We're talking ancient here, even in my time."_

"Question is, what was Pallin doing with that in his office?"

_**"I have completed my analysis of Pallin's hard drive," **_said Hannibal over the channel.**_ "There are no deleted files."_**

"That's good, isn't it?"

"No," said Hannibal. "Deleted files are not immediately removed from data storage. The OS simply removes access to them and flags their hard disk space to be used by something else later. This means that, on a used computer's hard drive, there are sectors with data, unused sectors, and sectors full of inaccessible data."

"...And since there's no recoverable data, that means somebody scrubbed it." said Garrus, realizing what Hannibal was going with. "Damn! Somebody must have erased some crucial evidence in there!"

_"Don't panic,"_ reassured Adam. _"Pallin is — was — the Executor, after all. Could be he regularly wiped his drive to keep sensitive data out of hackers' hands."_

"Maybe, maybe not. Let me have a quick look."

Garrus examined Pallin's emails, starting with the more recent. Nothing out of the ordinary: a whole bunch of reports from his immediate underlings, with the occasional e-mail from his granddaughter, asking him if he would be coming home tonight.

_Not tonight,_ said the latest. _Going to be very busy._

Finally, Garrus came across something a little less ordinary: Pallin was getting reports directly from the Armory. Apparently, he had really liked the Serpent Carbine, and had the techs in the Armory work on the design sold to him by DARPA. They had made 300 copies of the Serpent C-Sec Custom mk1, and they were all waiting for assignment to anyone with 1200 requisition points to burn.

_Don't know who could afford it at that price_, wrote the Lead Engineer. _As for a pistol version, it would probably take a decade for a corporate R&D team to figure out, and we simply haven't got the resources to develop our own. Sorry._

_I could afford one,_ thought Garrus. Both he and Adam had built up a nice stack of Requisition Points over the years. Adam's account was no doubt frozen, but Garrus could easily afford four Serpents and still have enough for some spare ammo and a new hard-suit. And he would be picking one up: the updated Serpent was supposed to boast increased precision, armour penetration, and energy efficiency, and even came with a built-in digital scope.

And then, he came across a single email from the _Clostrum_ detention facility. It was very brief and to the point:

_We're ready for your visit._

_Just what was Pallin up to?_ thought Garrus.

With no other leads to go on, Hannibal copied the entire contents of Pallin's hard drive into his own. Garrus wrapped the computer tower in a transparent plastic shell made with his Omni-Tool, intent on taking it as evidence to submit for storage.

Just as he was about to leave, however, Adam stopped him_. "Could you talk to that Dabus over there? He might have seen something."_

Garrus was confused. "The what, now?"

_"The Keeper, I mean."_

"Adam, you realize that nobody can communicate with the Keepers, right?"

_"Sure you can, you just... Crap. Looks like Aleph left me another present. All right, just grant me access to your Omni-Tool and get the Keeper's attention. I'll handle the rest."_

With his Omni-Tool glowing bright, Garrus approached the Keeper at its station and tapped it on the shoulder. As Keepers always did, it just turned its head to stare at him, almost as if waiting for something. Garrus expected it to look away, but then a symbol appeared atop his hand, and then the Keeper turned to face him. Then, lines of light appeared atop its head, and they coalesced into a single symbol.

_"It's saying hello,"_ Adam translated._ "...I think."_

Garrus was at a complete loss for words. "Err... ah... Hi?"

The strands of light multiplied into several Rebuses. Hannibal, who was watching, simply tilted his head at the sight. **"Fascinating,"** he said.

_"He's asking you what you want from him."_

"I..." Garrus shook his head. "How the hell should I know?! This was YOUR idea! And do you have any idea what we're doing here? Do you KNOW what people would do if they found out you can communicate with what may be the oldest species in the galaxy?!"

_"Freak out and completely forget what they came here to do?" _asked Adam, with not so subtle sarcasm.

"YES!"

More symbols appeared on Garrus' Omni-Tool. _"I'll just ask him if he saw the murder."_ In kind, the symbols above the Keeper's shifted into a single one. _"He says yes."_

"...So we have a witness, now. That's good."

_"I'm pressing him for details, hold on..." _

In response to Adam's string of symbols, a veritable wall of rebuses appeared over the Keeper's head.

_"Aw, crap. I don't think I can fully translate this. These rebuses are pretty complicated and I'm pretty sure he came up with some new ones on the fly. I got the general idea, but the details... well, there's too big a margin of error."_

"Does it have a recording of what happened?" Garrus asked. It was a long shot, but...

_"...He says yes. I'm asking him to show us."_

"How's he going to do that?"

The Keeper's eyes glowed bright, and the entire room was bathed in particles of yellow light. Holograms came to life at the desk, one in the shape of Pallin, sitting at his desk, and that of the killer, a turian in full armour and a closed helmet. Garrus watched as the armoured Turian proceeded to clamp down Pallin on the chair, which explained the bruising on his shoulders. As this was happening, Pallin barely reacted, and he seemed drunk, as his head was slowly bobbing about.

"Adam, did the autopsy report say anything about drugs in Pallin's system?" asked Garrus.

"There were none. And before you ask, no alcohol either."

The armoured Turian then proceeded to feed Pallin something via a tube. _"That explains the curry..."_ commented Adam. _"But why?"_

And then the killer produced a giant wrench, and tightened its head like a vice around Pallin's head. It wasn't hard to guess what was going to happen next. When the deed was done, the killer tossed the head at the wall next to the bookshelf.

The killer washed off the blood on his armour with a cleansing spray, then left, and the particles of lights died. The Keeper's eyes became black again, and just when Garrus thought things could not get any stranger, the chitin plate on the back of its head popped off, revealing black ceramic and the lines of machinery. A glowing green rod popped out of a silver stud, and the keeper took it out and offered it to Garrus, who took it without a word, still trying to process what had just happened.

Finally, he picked up Pallin's computer, and left.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The elevator was in the middle of making its painfully slow descent down the C-Sec Academy tower when Adam chimed in. <em>"Alright, I'm in SR's database. Since we're going with this whole 'Detective Valerius' thing, I've created an entire profile. It's a little thin: I basically copied your actual profile and changed a few names and dates, and you recently got promoted to the Murder desk after a brief stint in Arson. It's almost complete, just need a first name."<em>

"...Let's go with Brutus," said Garrus.

_"Roger that... Okay, done. Sent those credentials in your Omni-Tool."_

"Just need a little touch," said Garrus, as he activated his cosmetics app to alter his facial markings.

**"**_**You**_** have a cosmetics app?"** asked Hannibal, mockingly.

"Don't judge me," said Garrus, as he divided his blue stripe into ten equal parts.

**"I am curious: Why Valerius? Does the name have some kind of special significance?"**

"None whatsoever. I just came up with it. What about you? Why did Ramsus call you Hannibal? Is that the name of some serial killer he's a fan of?"

**"...It was a Hahne-Kedar executive that codenamed me Hannibal, after Hannibal Barca, the ancient Carthaginian commander that nearly conquered Rome. He was most famous for his victory at Cannae. My 'brothers' — so to speak — were also named after famous human generals."**

"There are others like you?"

**"Not like me — they were simple Virtual Intelligences, designed to assist Alliance commanders in making tactical and strategic decisions."**

_"But that's not your real name, isn't it... Huey?" _said Adam.

Garrus stifled a laugh. "Huey? Your real name is Huey?"

**"...That's not funny." **Hannibal growled.

"Aw, come on, it's just such an adorable name for a robotic murder machine. Right up there with Fluffy, or... Mittens, or Fluffy Mittens."

**"You will desist in your mockery."**

"Hey Adam, think you can reprogram Hannibal to call himself Fluffy Mittens?"

**"...Or I will sing the entirety of the Pirates of Penzance. We are in a Citadel Elevator. I WILL do it."**

"Desisting mockery," Garrus said immediately.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Name and ID?" asked the Salarian manning the third station at Evidence Processing and Requisitions. Behind him, and a few more desks, was a window with a fine view of the entire storage area. Mechs and drones hovered about, moving strongboxes around.<p>

"Detective Corporal Brutus Valerius," said Garrus, hoping that his disguise would hold. He submitted his ID, and the Salarian (whose name, Satrio, was printed on his uniform's breast pocket) eyed him suspiciously for a moment. "Checks out," he said, finally. "Case code?"

"MDK0138451."

"Ah, the Pallin case. Not a whole lot of activity. Cop Killer cases usually get more attention, though. About time."

"Yeah."

"Evidence to submit?"

"A computer from the crime scene. Examination revealed..."

"Save it for the forms," said Satrio. "Follow me."

Hannibal and Garrus followed Satrio to one of the airlocks, and he punched in the case code. After a few minutes, a drone delivered a metal box and slid it past the security hatch.

Garrus heard the whirr of a lens zooming in, and saw a smart-cam tracking him in the corner. It was no doubt Adam, watching him from outside via the Academy's network.

With a push of a button on his Omni-Tool, Satrio made the box pop out of the hatch, and popped the lid open.

Garrus and Hannibal peered inside.

The box was empty.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The door slid open, and Brea entered the apartment she had arranged for Adam, an impressive upgrade from that middle-to-low class <em>closet<em> he insisted on living in, for some unfathomable reason.

As she delicately removed her expensive shoes, her excellent hearing could pick up the distant sound of several streams of water hitting porcelain at great speed, and that the noise was coming from the second bathroom. She had a look around both floors, and judging by the somewhat messy state of both the kitchen and the guest bedroom it was obvious that Adam had made himself at home, at first by satisfying his considerable caloric requirements and then by checking out the clothes Brea had picked out for him.

_So, you're a bit of a slob_, thought Brea. _I can deal with that._ Of course, 'dealing with that' simply meant purchasing a mech to handle the cleaning, or reprogramming Teg to do it.

She approached the second bathroom, and entered, and leaned against the wall. "You know, Adam... the main bathroom is a lot better than this one."

No reply came from the stall.

"Adam?" She tried to peer into the frosted glass of the shower stall, but it was too opaque to see who was in there. Now feeling quite suspicious and wary (and not at all worried), Brea drew her pistol out of her purse and quietly approached the stall, then promptly forced it open.

Inside was a very naked and very wet and very hirsute middle-aged man. "Eeeek!" he shrieked, as he aimed the chrome hand-held shower head towards Brea, ruining her white button shirt, her high-waisted black business skirt and, of course, her hair.

Brea grabbed the shower head and switched it off, and pointed the gun at the man.

"...Please don't rape me!" he begged, almost sobbing.

At this, Brea's left eye twitched, as she kept her extreme annoyance under control.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After some paperwork and a trip to Requisitions, Garrus went out to the parking lot, where Adam was waiting for him by the car. He tossed the suitcase with the customized Serpent Carbine in the back seat before letting Hannibal in, then went to the driver's seat. Neither detective was very happy at this point: the answers they sought only led them to more questions, and they had been denied some valuable information. Whoever had taken Pallin's personal items had done so without leaving a trace.<p>

"Where to?" Garrus asked Adam, as he switched on the car's eezo drive.

"Just drive wherever," replied Adam. "We need to do some thinking."

As the X3M took off, Garrus suddenly asked: "So, Snatchers?"

"...Actually, I don't think a Snatcher did this. For one thing, the perp in the recording was a Turian, or certainly looked like one."

"We're talking about robots, here. Hell, the Turian was in full armour: no need for that artificial skin."

"True, and then there's the possibility that he was contracted by one."

**"I beg your pardon,"** asked Hannibal. **"But what is a Snatcher?"**

"...You remember that metal endo-skeleton we saw back in the hot labs beneath Peak 15?"

Hannibal said yes, and Adam proceeded to give him a brief explanation of the Shepard case, and of the cybernetic nature of Diana Nielsen, the perpetrator. He also told him about his encounter with similar machines back in the 21st century, and more recently on Noveria when the AIA attempted to kill and replace Elsa Devereaux.

"I'm surprised you don't know about them," said Adam. "Weren't you and Ramsus with the AIA?"

**"We were never involved in any 'kill and replace' missions. Ramsus was strictly an assassin after Torfan."**

"That's—"

Adam received a call on his codec. "It's from Brea." With a smirk he patched it through his omni-tool and put it on loudspeaker.

_"JENSEN! WHAT THE HELL?!"_

Garrus chuckled, as an angry Brea was a fun thing to listen to.

"Hello, Brea," said Adam, nonchalantly. "What's going on?"

_"Don't play dumb with me! You gave the keys to a billion credit apartment to a bum! A _**bum**_! What is _wrong_ with you?!"_

"Sorry, I'm actually in the middle of an investigation right now. Can't talk. Bye."

_"Don't you dare hang up on —"_

Adam dared to hang up on her, and let out a chuckle.

"So," said Garrus. "Billion credit apartment?"

"Yeah, Brea got me some overpriced condo near the top of Tiberius Towers."

"Are you serious? You gave up a place on the Silversun strip?"

"WAY too much room, more than I know what to do with... and besides, at the time, I thought that Internal Affairs would have been on my ass as soon as I submitted a change of address form."

"Yeah, but seeing as you're fired and you've got a partner who may or may not be looking to co-habitate in the next couple of weeks, don't you think you might want to reconsider her offer?"

"Seeing as we'll both be jobless, I doubt we can afford to live in Silversun, Garrus."

"Oh, come on, there's no way we'll be jobless for long. I can see it now: Vakarian and Jensen, Private Investigators. Hell, we might be able to use the condo as office space. Do..." Garrus snickered. "...do they allow pets?"

Hannibal growled, annoyed.

"...Well," said Adam, after pondering the idea. "Technically the apartment is probably still under my name. I'll think about it. Now, back to the case."

"Right. So we've got two pieces of storage medium that we can't read, one of which _might_ contain a recording of a possibly drunk Pallin getting force fed curry and then getting his head twisted off by another Turian, who may be working for Snatchers."

**"Why are you assuming that these 'Snatchers' were at all involved with the murder?"**

"The details," replied Adam. "The cause of death is the same as Kaidan Alenko's, for one thing..."

"Hold on," interrupted Garrus. "We never did find a motive for Alenko's murder, did we?"

"We didn't have an opportunity to interrogate Nielsen," said Adam, nodding. "My guess? She wanted to call attention to herself... but that's just that, a guess." He sighed. "Besides that, Hannibal, we've got a culinary oddity. Nielsen left a bouquet of cherry blossoms she was cultivating at the scene of Shepard's murder, which led us to the restaurant she was selling them to, which then led us to her apartment. And now, we've got a dead body with a belly full of curry... made with what appears to be real beef, something that's nearly impossible to get on the Citadel."

**"Someone is trying to get your attention," **concluded Hannibal.** "Someone with knowledge of the Shepard case."**

"And that someone is probably luring us into a trap," agreed Adam, nodding. "Who that someone might be, I'm not sure. We made a lot of enemies."

**"Then perhaps it would be best to let this case go," **suggested Hannibal.

"Maybe," agreed Adam, "but I can't."

"So what do we follow up on?" asked Garrus. "The food, or the disk?"

"I think we should focus on the disk for now."

"Know anyone who's an expert on seriously outdated hardware?"

**"Hein, perhaps?" **suggested Hannibal.

"No." Adam shook his head. "Hein's busy with the Navy taking over his ship..." He suddenly recalled a conversation he had had back on Illium, and jacked into his Omni-Tool before setting it up on the dashboard. He accessed the DARPA encrypted codec channel, and within a few seconds the face of Manuel 'Lunchbox' Melligan appeared out of thin air on a holo-screen.

_"Hey Jensen! Vakarian! What's up?"_ said Lunchbox.

"We're hunting a cop-killer," said Adam flatly. "How about you?"

_"...Well shit, I was about to complain how we're surrounded by a bunch of fascist pigs, but that pales in comparison to your deal. So, you need me for something?"_

Adam put the floppy in view of the camera. The young hacker beamed, gasped, and pointed.

_"DUUUUUUUUUDE... is that a real eight-inch floppy disk?!"_

"Ah, so you know what this is," said Adam, who examined the disk. "It's probably a replica, but the fact remains that we need something that can read it and—"

_"Aw, sadface! A real floppy is worth a fortune on an auction..."_

"—and I figured you could help us out, seeing as you've experimented with outdated hardware in the past."

Lunchbox scratched his chin, pensively. _"Well, I could probably put together a machine with a floppy disk drive... Do you have a couple of days to spare?"_

_"Afraid not."_

Lunchbox shrugged._ "Don't have access to an Omni-Bench at the moment, anyways."_

"Do you know anyone else who can set us up with a machine with a floppy disk?"

_"Well, you could always order one on the extra-net, but it'll take even longer... wait hold on. HEY! SPOOKY!"_

_"...what?" replied the distant voice of Fawkes 'Spooky' Moody._

_"COME ON OVER, MAN!"_

_"Now, what in the hell are you..."_ Adam put up the disk for Spooky to see, and the veteran hacker smiled, dropping the cigarette he had in his mouth._ "Well, holy shit. Talk about a blast from the past."_

_"They need something to read it," _said Lunchbox,_ "and pronto."_

_"Ah, ok. Well, I know a place that might set you up. Ever heard of Plato's Cavern?"_

Garrus and Adam looked at one another. "Yeah, we've heard about it," replied Adam. "Didn't know they sold outdated hardware."

_"Well, if you want old junk, that's the place to go."_

_"Hey, guys!" _Lunchbox waved at Adam and Garrus excitedly, getting their attention. _"If you're headed to Plato's cavern, can I come with? It's on the lower levels of that big fancy mall, right?"_

Adam shrugged. "You can do as you like, but..."

_"Cool! I'll meet you at..." _Lunchbox typed on his laptop, and clicked on a few entries._ "...the parking on the top level! See ya!" _he said, before cutting the connection.

"Well, you heard the kid," said Adam to Garrus. "Off to Zakera Ward."

Garrus shifted lanes, and sped up.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>'Downtown Zakera' was basically a huge commercial complex that took up a considerable amount of space in the center of the ward it was named after. It was the home to well over a thousand shops, offices, clinics, and garages. All of which were perfectly legal. Things were a little different on the sub-levels, below the surface of the ward itself. There, well... the shops were still legal, and most of the goods being sold were technically legal. It was the sources of the goods that C-Sec had issues with.<p>

That was Plato's Cavern, a mall under a mall deep beneath the sewage and power conduits of the Ward, a maze of tunnels lit up by lamps, holiday lights, and OLED panels. Here you could find all kinds of goods from bootleg films to untested pharmaceuticals. And apparently, if you knew where to look, custom retro electronics.

"Niiiice," said Lunchbox as he stepped out of the rickety elevator that had taken them down from the pristine silver ziggurat above to the bowels of the ward below. "I'm bound to find some prime hardware to make the perfect homebrew deck in here!"

Garrus, followed by Hannibal, stepped out of the elevator, having a hard time believing that some old cage operated with mechanical pulleys made for a faster ride than space-age capsule on a linear rail. His three nostrils clamped shut at the scent of strange Terran medicines, sweat, and waste. It took a moment for his eyesight to adjust to the sharp contrast of bright OLED signs and the sunless darkness of the Cavern.

"So how come Adam's not coming with us?" asked Lunchbox.

"Well..." Garrus hesitated. There had been some argument about that. Adam had just gotten out of the car when he asked Hannibal to keep an eye on the vehicle and its precious contents. Garrus had immediately complained that there was no way he'd leave the security of his new weapon to a robot, and Adam stated that there was no way they should carry all this stuff through a black market, so he volunteered to stay in the car. Of course, there was no way he was about to let Garrus go out there alone, so the Turian detective was once again stuck with the synthetic killer dog. "...Adam is not feeling good," he said, a bit lamely.

"Yeah," Lunchbox nodded, a smile hiding his disappointment that he wouldn't be going off fighting the man alongside Adam just yet. "Boxing with one of those green giants is bound to leave you a bit dizzy. Hope he gets better soon."

"I hope so too. Let's keep moving and look for any electronics shops."

Navigating Plato's Cavern was a bit problematic for Garrus. Avina, the Citadel's guide VI, had no terminals here, as the locals had long ago sabotaged them, and they had not even bothered to register their businesses with her. Worse still, the streets were crowded, unmarked, and often spiralled into each other, and since Garrus had never been to the Cavern before, the group got lost more than a couple of times.

Lunchbox, used to navigating the poorer shanty towns of Syneu and familiar with the odd Terran slang the shopkeeps were fond of using, quickly got used to navigating the underground labyrinth, to the point that he practically led Garrus and Hannibal around.

Through it all, though, Garrus noticed that they were being watched. Not followed, just watched. It was to be expected: Garrus' military bearing gave him away as the law, and Hannibal, being a mech in the shape of a huge dog painted silver and blue, was bound to attract some attention. Nobody made a move, however: as long as Garrus just went about his business, and his business involved buying something, then he would not be harmed.

Lunchbox, after a lengthy conversation in cityspeak with a Chinese medicine peddler, told Garrus that he had finally found what they were looking for. As he led them towards the place, they came across to a pizza and soup stand. "You hungry, dude? Food's on me."

Just as Garrus was about to say no, his stomach growled, practically betraying him. The cook manning the stand, a fat, jovial, Japanese man with a thin but finely combed moustache, quickly pounced. "Step right up! We got all kinds of flavours, and in dextro varieties, too!"

Deciding that he could use a break after walking around for an hour, Garrus agreed and took a seat at the stand. Lunchbox ordered two Neo-Kobe Pizzas: A meat lovers and miso soup combo for himself, and a Pirum & Auroch and plomeek soup combo for Garrus. The turian felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see that Hannibal was tapping him with the tip of his long tail.

_**"I WANT ONE," **_said the Mech wirelessly.

Garrus, who couldn't argue with Hannibal in public, merely tapped Lunchbox's shoulder and pointed at the mech.

"Are you hungry boy?" asked Lunchbox, who promptly started to rub Hannibal behind the ears. "Are you hungry? Who's a hungry boy? You are? Yes you are!" The young hacker ordered another meat lover's, much to Hannibal's delight.

The cook shrugged, and prepared three bowls. "There you are! You gotta put it in the soup yourself, okay?"

Garrus was a bit confused at that last part. "Wait, what?"

"Alright guys!" Lunchbox took his pizza. "Let's synchronize that shit! On three!"

When Hannibal grabbed his slice with the three manipulator cords on the tip of his tail and held it above his bowl of soup, Garrus quickly followed suit.

"Three!"

Pizza soaked in soup, Garrus decided, was actually kind of tasty, although he wasn't a big fan of boiled plomeek. The Turian equivalent to Terran soy, plomeek was a cheap, easy to produce and very nutritious staple food that was used in just about every local dextro food product on the Citadel. It didn't taste particularly bad, but it wasn't exactly a delicacy, either. The broth in his soup, though, had a nice buttery texture.

Hannibal, for his part, had been disappointed in the texture and aroma of the vat-grown meat substitute of his slice's toppings, likening the stuff to deep fried pork roll.

Just as they were about to finish, the news came on a nearby holo display. Emily Wong reported on some trouble with the Terrans, more specifically concerning the Templar supercarrier Hand of Baphomet. Apparently, the 101st fleet — the Turian fleet in charge of defending the Citadel — had some issue with a ship full of 'violent, murderous, xenophobic fanatical human supremacists', and forbade the Templars from being anywhere near the Citadel. Her Holiness, in turn, refused to leave her vessel unprotected. With so many humans of the Order faith living on the Citadel, protests were inevitable, to the point that the Citadel had to put the human Spectre selections trials on hold.

"I hope they don't come here," said the cook, worried. "I mean, I don't know if you noticed, but there's lots of mutants in the Cavern. I hear Vincent's got his boys ready for a fight, but... against Templars?" The cook shook his head.

"Racist fascist cocksuckers," said Lunchbox bitterly, losing his appetite. "I hope someone soaks them in that Wildfire they love so much and lights a match." He gave a meaningful look to Garrus, who had killed his share of Templars on Caleston.

_"I'm afraid that Emily's facts are a bit out of date," _said Adam suddenly, over the encrypted codec channel_. "I spoke to Manah a while back... She encountered Caim, of all people, in an elevator. He didn't recognize her, obviously, but he wasn't happy about the company she kept. Near as I can tell 'Her Holiness' and C-Sec managed to come to an understanding."_

_**"Are you speaking of Lord-Commander Caim Caerleon?" **_asked Hannibal, almost growling with anticipation.

_"Spanish guy with a mop of black hair and a scar over his nose, likes to swing a pair of swords around... is that about right?"_

_**"That would be him, yes. Ramsus and I encountered him a few times, at cross purposes. I relish the chance to face him again."**_

_"Yeah well... don't pick a fight with him. If he starts going on a rampage it could spark a war."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Welcome to Darvo's junk pile!" said the Quarian at the register, with practiced enthusiasm. Compared to other quarians Garrus had met, this one's suit was extravagantly decorated. "Where another man's garbage..." he gestured at the aisles of second hand parts and refurbished electronics behind him. "...is <em>your<em> treasure."

"Hey dude," said Lunchbox. "My friend here has got a piece of VERY retro piece of storage."

Garrus produced the floppy from his legpack, and showed it to the clerk. The Quarian let out a whistle, amplified by his helmet's speakers. "Wow. I didn't even know they made floppy disks that big. Did you guys know that before floppy disks..." The Quarian then proceeded to give a brief history of magnetic analogue data storage, and then Lunchbox proceeded to counter with a brief history of VHS and Beta cassettes.

Once Garrus got a word in, he quickly got back to the business at hand. "Look," he said, "do you have anything that can read this?"

"Hmm... the only computer I've got on sale with a disk drive can only read the 3 and half inch ones... Maybe you can ask Kell to make you a custom machine? He's in the back, at the repairs section."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Garrus rang the bell on the counter, and after a moment, past the stacks of old computers and parts, a rumbling voice rang out in reply.<p>

"Come on in! I'm in the middle of something."

Kell Kugel, a Krogan with an orange crest and a faded purple engineer's jumpsuit, was undeniably, unquestionably _old. _Much older than any Krogan that Garrus had ever encountered. His skin was leathery and covered in wrinkles, and his battle scars had faded out a long time go. His breathing was a bit ragged, assisted by a tube sticking out of his mouth and connected to a pump mounted on the back of his wheelchair. Garrus noted that said wheelchair looked like it was built out of heavy-duty ATV parts, complete with thick wheels.

Kell's work area was surrounded by active, boxy, glowing monitors, each tuned to a different channel, some of them dead.

"Kell Kugel, at your service," said the Krogan as he finished fixing a navigator drone and checked his mechanical hand prostheses. "Darvo called ahead, says you want a custom replica machine?" The wheelchair groaned and whirred as it turned to face Garrus and Lunchbox. The ancient Krogan gave Garrus an appraising look. "You don't look like a Junker." He then saw Hannibal, squinted, then smiled. "Well, look at _you_. You certainly bring back memories of days gone by." He chuckled. "You here for a tune up?"

"What's a Junker?" asked Garrus.

Lunchbox beamed. "Someone who is into seriously outdated hardware. Junk, in other words. I'm a casual Junker myself, since I prefer high-performance machines. I'm surprised you don't know about them: A lot of Turians are Junkers. "

"I don't get it. What's the point?"

"Some folks just like retro, you know?" Lunchbox shrugged.

"But for the more practically minded..." added Kell, "...it's good security. You looking to write a book, or something?"

"I'm actually interested in the content of this disk," said Garrus as he showed the Krogan the floppy. "Do you have a machine capable of reading it?"

"Hm... I got an eight-inch disk drive in the back, just in case. Give me a minute to install it, and we'll have a look."

In about two minutes, Kell's dextrous mechanical hands quickly mounted the drive in a large computer tower, and it had taken less than that for him to set it up with a monitor and a keyboard. "Give it here," said the Krogan, and the Turian handed him the diskette. After a few minutes, something popped up on the monitor.

-PROTOCOL ERROR-

-DATA UNREADABLE-

"Damn!" cursed Garrus. "This is a dead end."

"Hold on." Kell took the diskette out. "Care to tell me who this belongs to?"

"What difference does it make?"

"Well, this is obviously a _hardcore_ Junker's diskette, so it's probable the contents were made using a custom format, on a custom OS. You find his machine, and you'll be able to read this." He handed the diskette back to Garrus. "So, whose is it?"

"...Verum Pallin," answered Garrus, after a moment's consideration.

"Verum Pallin..." Kell repeated. "Ah, yeah, that rings a bell. He came in here about 3 years back, looking for a computer. Asked me for a replica of a Genesis Model 92, complete with an authentic Cathode Ray Tube monitor. He came to me, since Krogan are the only ones that still use the technology. Never had much use for fancy OLEDs and holographic haptics."

"Did he come to pick it up, or did he ask it to be delivered?" asked Garrus.

"Had it delivered. Right to his domicile. Hopefully it's still there...though I think he's going to take issue with you trying to steal his computer."

"Not likely," said Garrus, somberly. "He's dead."

"No shit? Huh, that's too bad. Anyways, you know where to go now. Got any other questions for me?"

"What's so special about Cathode Ray Tube monitors?" Garrus asked, genuinely curious. "Why did Pallin order one specifically?"

"What isn't special about them?" replied Lunchbox, who had become downright wistful. "Excellent contrast, bright colours, smooth refresh rate... It took years before LCD monitors could match that performance at low costs, and by then the CRTs had been phased out and—"

Kell laughed. "Easy there, kid. Monitor on a Genesis is black and white."

Lunchbox's shoulders slumped. "Aw..."

"But like I said," the Krogan continued, "a Junker doesn't custom order a piece of crap like that unless he was really worried about security. Besides the various security advantages, it's hard to spy on someone using a CRT. Here!" He tossed a camera at Garrus. "Try looking at my monitors, you'll see what I mean."

Garrus activated the camera and pointed it at some monitors, and squinted at the small OLED screen. For some reason, every blocky monitor's screen seemed to be flashing and flickering brightly. "What the... that's weird."

"Heh," Kell chuckled. "Modern electronic optics are just too good and sensitive: They react badly to the electron beam's scanning, causing a pretty nasty flickering effect that makes it difficult to see what's on screen... that, and it gives sneaky Salarian headaches."

"So nobody can electronically spy on you to see what you're working on, huh?" Garrus concluded. "That still leaves remote hacking."

"Nope!" Lunchbox chimed in. "Assuming Pallin went for maximum authenticity, there isn't a single datajack to plug your Omni-Tool into, and even if you could do that, there would be protocol issues and you'd get nothing but gibberish on your screen."

"Okay, how about hacking in with a similar machine, then?"

"That might work," Kell nodded. "Provided you use one of the OSes for Junker machines, like MAC or PENGUIN. If Pallin wrote his own OS, however, and I'm betting that he did, then you'd encounter the same barrier as before."

"Assuming I've got a matching OS, could I deploy a virus?"

Lunchbox shook his head. "That could work, depending on how you wrote it... but the processor would choke on it. The user would know something was wrong immediately and take proper steps. And because it's running so slow, the damage can be mitigated."

For Garrus, that was some interesting food for thought, but something else was bothering him. "You said earlier that my mech reminded of days gone by. What did you mean?"

"Well, that quadruped reminded me of the old Basilisk war mech my company used to make. Of course, they were much larger back then... ah, those lines on that red gleaming armour, those flamethrowers and autocannons mounted on the head that spat hellfire with every roar... a weapon made for war and terror. Fine machines, every single one. Did you know we patterned their logic cores on the brains of large beasts? They were practically AIs, and couldn't have been more loyal to their riders!"

"I honestly don't see the connection... my mech looks nothing like a Krogan war machine."

_**"A fact that I am most proud of," **_commented Hannibal subvocally.

"It's all in the way it moves," said Kell. "The way its head scans his environment, wary of potential enemies. Almost exactly like a Basilisk, I tell ya..."

Basilisk, that word made Garrus recall something from something he read in the Codex. "Wait a second, Basilisk, Kell... your company was Kell Heavy Industries?"

"The one and the same!" Kell laughed. "My company was once the first and best provider of mechanized Krogan hardware, and now here I am in the back of a secondhand electronics store fixing old computers for a Quarian. Funny where life takes you, eh?"

"Yeah, funny. Look, sorry we can't stay and chat, but we should go."

"Aw!" whined Lunchbox. "Can't we stick around a bit? There's loads of goodies in this joint!"

Garrus relented, and waited while Lunchbox and Kell talked shop.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Lunchbox sat in the back of the car, examining his latest purchase while simultaneously scratching Hannibal behind his pointy audio sensors. "So where are we going?" he asked, as he admired his Launchpad Mini, already looking forward to making some cool music with it.<p>

"We're headed to Pallin's house," said Adam, as he adjusted his clothes. He was wearing the 108 under them, stripped of armour plating to better conceal the powered suit. "If we find his computer and it's broken, we'll call for you."

Garrus, meanwhile, was making calibrations to his new rifle, having left the car on autopilot. "I don't know... I'm pretty sure that trip to Plato's Cavern was a waste of time. I mean, there's no way an old computer is hack proof against a top of the line Omni-Tool."

"You really think so?" Lunchbox adjusted his glasses. "When Majestic-12 began their campaign to take over the world through the net — and being assholes — one of the **first things** they had to do was encourage the US government to modernize their nuclear arsenal with the latest computer systems. The silos ran on hardware barely more powerful than a pocket calculator, and the codes were stored in disks like the one you've got in your pocket."

"And suddenly, you humans nearly nuking yourselves to the stone age makes more sense," Garrus quipped, as he checked on some party favours he got out of Requisitions. "Pineapple," he then murmured to Adam, who nodded.

"No, wrong! You're not listening to me, dude! There's a good reason why they wanted those machines updated! If the United States and the Chinese had kept their hardware out of date, MJ-12 couldn't have remotely accessed their nuclear arsenal so quickly, and the Collapse wouldn't have been nearly half as disastrous as it turned out! History vindicates me, dude."

"Whatever," dismissed Garrus. "I'll slap some Omni-Gel onto it and load up a data miner. You'll see."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It was dark in this part of Kithoi Ward, as Widow's light was blocked by the ward above. Pallin's home, a somewhat larger than normal, two story house, was a fusion of Turian Brutalism and Quarian GlassFrame architecture, complete with elaborate fanlights above the windows. The cement walls were lit red, then blue, by the lights of the 3 C-Sec cruisers parked in front of the house.<p>

"That's not good," said Garrus.

"I'll tell you what's worse," replied Adam. "Snowblind."

As if on cue, some of the sensor displays on the car's haptic interface turned blue, with an error message on them. Garrus brought the car about just out of range of the jamming, and landed on the edge of the very spacious front yard.

Adam double-checked his weapon. "Lunchbox, you stay here in the car with Hannibal. We might come out and call on you if Pallin's computer is in need of fixing. If Hannibal growls at us, don't let us in, and drive away."

Garrus tapped the dashboard, where the ignition key was, then the manual control switch, indicating to the teenage hacker that he wouldn't have any trouble driving the car in a hurry.

The two detectives opened the doors, and stepped out. Hannibal got out as well, and sat right next to the car. As he closed the door, Adam gave Brea a codec call.

_"What?"_ she replied icily.

_"Investigating Pallin's death."_ Adam replied._ "Snatchers may be involved. Entering his house, saturated with Snowblind. Scan me and Garrus the next time we meet, and be armed."_

She said something back, but Adam hadn't quite the chance to hear it as he stepped closer and closer to the cloud of floating Snowblind particles, their interference jamming everything from comms to scanners. Keeping a hand on his holstered pistol, Adam was wary of anything that might come out of the open front door to greet them.

And then, someone got out.

"Jensen!" Armando Bailey called out, almost happy to see him, but Adam couldn't help but notice a note of tension and wariness in his voice. "And Garrus... what are you two doing here? Answering the 459?"

"Somebody robbed the place?" asked Garrus, compressing his rifle and mag-clamping it to his back.

"Yeah, we got the call half an hour ago," said Bailey, accustomed to giving a sitrep to the two detectives so that they could better do their jobs. He then shook his head, and pointed at Adam. "Wait a minute, you got shitcanned..." he then turned to Garrus. "...and YOU are on the Traffic desk! I ask again; what are you two doing here?"

"We came here to give our condolences to Livia Pallin," said Garrus.

"Armed?"

"Well, between the cloud of Snowblind hanging in the air, and the police car lights, can you blame us for being a little careful?"

Bailey sighed. "I guess not. Well, I know better than to try and stop you two cowboys. Alright, you can come in and talk with her: Biers is taking the girl's statement. Keep in mind though, a couple of detectives from the Burglaries' Desk will arrive any minute now, and they won't be happy to see you."

"Could be we see something they don't," suggested Adam.

"Could be," agreed Bailey, as he turned to go inside.

"So!" exclaimed Garrus, before giving Bailey a gentle slap on the back. "You ever get that fish you like so much?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In sharp contrast to its bunker-like exterior, the inside of Pallin's home didn't feel all that different from a terran family home: the asari furniture and the ceramic walls were well lit with warm lights, giving the place a soothing feeling Adam hadn't felt since the days before he was put on ice, as back then yellow lights had been all the rage.<p>

It was a shame that nearly everything had been vandalized.

Bailey explained the situation: At around 1830 hours, robbers detonated an airburst Snowblind grenade on the roof, then shoved a second one into the air processor. Because of the size of the grounds, no other house was affected. With the internal sensors and external security sensors disabled, the robbers proceeded to thoroughly search the place for valuables. Approximately an hour later, Livia Pallin — Verum Pallin's grand-daughter — made a call on the land line, having found her home wrecked and ransacked. According to her testimony, she had heard someone say something, and the sound of a window being forced open.

"What did they steal?" asked Adam.

"We're trying to figure that out," replied Bailey. "We're taking an inventory, and once the detectives get here they can compare it to the list of insured items."

There were 4 other cops besides Bailey in the house, examining every piece of furniture and miscellaneous item they could find, and making notes on data pads, since the snowblind was affecting their Omni-Tools' functionality. Garrus greeted everyone as he helped investigate, giving them a friendly pat on the shoulder or a vigorous handshake.

"Garrus getting a bit touchy-feely?" asked Bailey.

"He's been through a rough patch," replied Jensen. "A few of his friends in the Riflemen's Legion got killed a few days ago."

"I guess we all deal with grief in our own way." Bailey shrugged.

In the living room, Officer Biers — a tough-looking blonde human woman in her forties — had finished interviewing Livia, and motioned Garrus and Jensen to come over as she rose from the smart-foam couch. Garrus, before taking a seat, gave a nice, long, and very awkward hug.

"5 for 5!" he said cheerfully, as he sat down. Adam sat on the couch next to his partner, and they were both facing the divan. Just as they were about to introduce themselves, Livia spoke: "Are you... Adam Jensen..." she took a laboured breath, "...and Garrus Vakarian?"

"That we are," said Adam. "How did you know?"

"I..." The Turian girl put a breather mask on her mouth, and breathed the medicinal gases deeply. "...I heard about you from my grandfather. He speaks... he spoke often of you, whenever I visited him." Another breath of medicine. "Complained about the piles of paperwork due to the trouble you caused." She smiled, warmly. "I asked once why he didn't just fire you, and then he'd just start mumbling to himself angrily."

Livia Pallin was a Turian girl of 17 galactic standard years of age, which made her a bit past 18 in Earth years. She wore a long teal and white dress that reminded Adam of an Asian garment he had seen in a fashion magazine in high school (an 'áo dài', as he recalled it). Her skin was a dark blue that faded to pale teal towards the mouth, and her quills, strangely, were slack and smooth to the point that they could be mistaken for hair. Adam thought it made her look lovely, but Garrus knew that was a clear sign of sickness, which unnerved him a bit.

"I am Livia Pallin," she introduced herself. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Are you alright?" asked Garrus, worried. "You don't look too well..."

Livia took another dose of medicine. "It's the _Exscreo," _she said. "You don't need to worry about me. You had... you had business with me?"

"We came here as friends," said Adam. "We worked closely with your grandfather, and we came to pay our respects. We..."

"Please, please just stop..." Livia shook her head. "You don't need to say anything else. I already lost a loved one to the service, and I always knew this day would happen sooner or later. I just... I just didn't expect... who... what sort of MONSTER would twist off another person's head?" she sobbed.

"Who told you this?" Garrus asked.

"Officer Biers told me," replied Livia.

Adam and Garrus sent a brief, dirty look towards Biers, but she was pretending she was not paying attention to them.

Livia wiped a tear, and continued. "I expected a bullet, or simply old age... but not this..."

That got Adam's attention. "And his own case of _Exscreo..._ right?" he probed.

"...I'm sorry?" Livia asked, surprised.

"The autopsy report said Pallin was in the terminal stages of Exscreo himself."

"...That's not possible," Livia said, unbelieving.

"He might have kept it a secret from you. I certainly had no idea until—"

"No, you don't understand — if he was in the last stages he would be barely able to function, let alone work as Executor!"

"Maybe it simply wasn't that bad?" asked Garrus.

"I am in... the middle stages myself." Livia shook her head, "If it 'wasn't that bad' he would also need to keep an inhaler on himself to deal with the fits and use it at least six times a day." She let Adam and Garrus process this, and they realized that as long as they had known him, Pallin never so much as wheezed.

"Livia," said Adam. "The truth is, we're trying to track down whoever is responsible for Pallin's death. We think they might be linked to whatever it was he was looking into."

"We found a piece of outdated data storage in his office," added Garrus. "With your permission we'd like to have a look at it."

"Do you have to do that here?" asked Livia.

"Actually, yes," replied Adam. "It's old, and it needs a specific machine to read it, which we have discovered was delivered here..."

"Do you mean that old computer in his study?"

"Could be. We'd like your permission to look at it?"

_~[h+]~_

* * *

><p>In sharp contrast to the rest of the house, Pallin's study looked a bit more, as Garrus put, a 'battlecruiser's archive room and officer's rec room merged together', complete with medal cases (full of medals, of course), commemorative pictures, bookshelves full of binders, a desk, and a very comfy smart-foam couch. Garrus' assessment was quite accurate, as Pallin had once confided in Adam that he sometimes longed for the good old days back in the Turian Navy.<p>

Yes, Pallin's study would have looked very nice... if the robbers hadn't completely wrecked the place. The picture frames were shattered, the binders and their contents were torn, and the couch's holstering had seen better days.

And, of course, the computer — a beige cube of moulded plastic fused with a keyboard and was severely damaged.

Garrus summed it up best: "Well, shit. Don't think Omni-Gel is going to cut it." He sighed. "This lead's a dead end after all."

Adam, however, was a bit more savvy when it came to imitations of 20th century technology. "No, I think Lunchbox can fix this. Let's go get him."

_~[h+]~_

* * *

><p>Bailey had not exactly been happy about a civilian going about a crime scene tampering with evidence, but relented once Adam assured him that their 'civilian consultant' wouldn't be touching anything else besides an old piece of junk Livia wanted to restore. Bailey had been a little more pissed at the sudden presence of a huge mech in the shape of a dog.<p>

"What the..." his protests died, however, when it began licking his hand, and he found himself reminded of that mutt he had adopted back when he was a kid. "Aw, look who's a good dog," he said, patting it on the head. "Didn't know we'd have a robotic k-9 unit. Maybe Falsum running the show won't be so bad."

"Well, if she intends to replace us all with robots..." said Adam behind Bailey.

"Heh!" Bailey laughed. "That'll be the day." His attention was refocused back on the dog. "So them codemonkeys figured out how to program bots like real dogs, huh? My pop bought me a robot dog once... creeped me the hell out. But this one feels like the real deal despite all the amour and ... are those throwing knives? How much are those things going to cost per unit?"

"A lot, according to what Garrus told me. They'll probably remove a few bells and whistles for the mass production model."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>While Lunchbox was examining Pallin's old computer (or at least making a show of it), Adam had a look around the room. He found a surprising amount of books concerning programming languages and creating one's own software. What surprised more about the place was Pallin's apparent sentimentality: the man had kept quite a few photos to commemorate a few events throughout the years. First and foremost was a mostly intact picture of Pallin shaking the hand of a C-Sec Academy graduate, who had a similar skin tone to Livia.<p>

"That's Miles Eques Pallin... my father," the young Turian girl explained. Adam's head darted up from where the picture lay on the ground... he had, apparently, been staring a bit too long at the rare occurrence of Pallin _smiling_, captured on a digital camera. "Grandfather was so proud of him when he graduated with high honours."

Adam was about to ask what happened to him, but remembered what Livia had said, and saw no point in having her dredge up the painful memories.

He found another frame, and recovered a printout of a news article: _Aria Lekkas' body found — Immolator strikes again._ Apparently Miles had been put in charge of the investigation, and promised that the 'Enkindler Murders' would be coming to an end soon.

The next article: _Detective Miles Pallin dies attempting to save latest Immolation victim. Suspect captured._

And the next one was downright depressing: _Cylenander cleared of all charges due to lack of evidence._

Adam checked the dates: apparently, the Enkindler Murders had started some twenty years ago, and Miles had nearly caught the hanar responsible some thirteen years ago. If the Primacy hadn't been so obsessed with its reputation, they wouldn't have hired that army of lawyers, and Miles wouldn't have died for nothing.

_It's amazing that I never even heard of this,_ thought Adam. _Makes you wonder if there's a hanar Spectre out there, erasing inconvenient truths for the Primacy's sake._

And then, Adam found another article, and another picture: the article detailed Cylenander's second arrest years later, and while the Primacy had really, really tried to get Cylenander off the hook once again, Pallin had gone to great lengths to make sure history would not repeat itself. Congratulations were heaped upon Garrus Vakarian for Cylenander, and PC Adam Jensen got a brief mention at the end of the article.

_Thanks, Emily._

The picture was of Adam and Pallin shaking hands. Pallin had not smiling, and had not been that happy. The truth was that back then Adam had been just one of thirty honoured graduates, and the Executor had even more hands to shake after that. A dull, boring protocol that Pallin had stopped caring about long ago.

Adam checked the date printed on the back of the picture: apparently, this picture had been printed out AFTER Cylenander had been put behind bars, and his crimes made public._  
><em>

"I never got a chance to thank you," said Livia.

"For what?"

"For putting their spirits to rest."

"...You're welcome."

There were more pictures of course, and almost all of them were of the successes of detectives Jensen, Vakarian... and even Chellick.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So, how bad is it?" asked Garrus.<p>

"Oh, I can fix this, easy," said Lunchbox after peering inside the broken machine after opening the steel and plastic case.

"Lunchbox, I'm no engineer, but... all those broken bits of glass and wires sticking out tell me this is a lost cause."

Lunchbox snickered and looked at Jensen, who was smiling back. "You didn't tell him?"

Garrus crossed his arms. "Am I missing something here?"

"They always shoot the screen," said Lunchbox. "In the movies set in the twentieth century, I mean. They always shoot the screen, and the computer is 'destroyed'." The hacker laughed, as he shone a small light into the computer's insides. "Whoever did this assumed that the Genesis was all computer, and smashing the screen and everything behind it would fuck it up completely. Well, jokes on them, the suckers... the CPU's intact, and so is the motherboard, though I think we might have to make a new RAM chip."

"Great, how much money is this going to cost us?" asked Garrus. "And how much time?"

"Depends... Do you have an Omni-Bench? How much boron-rich Omni-Gel do you have?"

Livia, sitting on the couch and trying to get used to Hannibal licking her hand, looked up to see Adam and Garrus looking at her. "Ah... my grandfather does have a Omni-Bench... as for the Omni-Gel, well... there are quite a few jars. Maybe that's what you're looking for?"

"Is it alright if Lunchbox here uses it?" asked Adam.

"Of course. Let me show you the garage."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Whew!" expressed Constable Lang, as he lifted the ruined computer onto the Omni-Bench. The doughy-faced rookie Adam had met at the start of the Shepard Case had moved up in rank, apparently, as he had an extra pip on his collar. "They really made computers heavy, back in the day."<p>

"Thanks, Lang," said Garrus. "You're a pal."

"No problem sir!" replied Lang, saluting. "Err... but isn't this technically tampering with evidence?"

"We're working on _restoring_ some evidence," said Adam. "If the Burglar Desk boys have any problems with that, they can break the computer again if they want to."

"Oh." Lang rubbed the back of his head, not sure how to deal with the sarcasm. "Do you need any more help?"

"LANG!" shouted Bailey from the hall. "I WANTED THAT ENVIRO-UNIT ON THE ROOF FIXED YESTERDAY!"

"That's your cue to leave, kid," said Garrus, dismissing the cop.

If Pallin's study was a battlecruiser's officer's rec room, then his garage was a miniature hangar bay. There were enough materials and dedicated tools here to service a space fighter... but there was only enough room for a car.

Adam's car, in fact.

"Son of a bitch," said Adam out loud as he caressed the gleaming hull of his SydMotors Spinner. "So that's where it went."

"And here I was hoping someone stole it and sold all the parts," groaned Garrus. "Don't make me ride this thing again, Adam."

"Hush, you," replied Adam, as he started examining the outside and inside of the car while Lunchbox worked on the computer. Garrus, in the meantime, helped himself to a dextro soda from the vending machine Pallin had been restoring.

"Think you can get the Omni-Bench to work?" asked Garrus, slurping his orange soda. "There's still Snowblind everywhere."

"It's no problem," said Lunchbox as he extracted the CRT and the broken chip out of the computer. "The bench can sterilize the work area, and repairing electronics requires a vacuum. It'll keep the Snowblind out. Sure wish they'd turn on the fans, though."

Livia found herself watching Lunchbox work. Her grandfather had told her that he had learned almost everything about engineering from his days in the Navy, and had assumed that if someone wanted to be as good or better than he was, then a few tours of duty aboard a warship would have been required.

And now, right before her, there was this young-looking human, whose hands moved as quickly and as purposefully as her grandfather's had. She was a bit curious, but wasn't sure how to broach the subject with humans. "Are you... still in school?" she asked.

"Hm? No, I dropped out three years ago."

"Oh. Where did you learn... your engineering skills, then?"

"Spooky's my sensei in all matters cyberspace, girl!" replied Lunchbox cheerfully. "But I also pulled quite a few manuals on the net. Made me a better modder. How about you? Aren't all Turians in the military?"

"Oh... I couldn't join. My lung condition kept me out."

"Can't you get that fixed?"

"...Exscreo is treatable... but there's no known cure..."

"Can't you get new lungs?"

"No... The Hierarchy won't allow me to have them."

"...Bummer. Aren't there any alternatives?"

Garrus took Adam aside, and whispered. "That's the rotten part of being a handicapped kid in the Hierarchy. If you can't serve, you can't access the first tier of citizenship, which means shit healthcare."

"That's... pretty damned harsh," Adam replied. "They let sick kids die?"

"No, they'll foot the bill for medication and the like, but replacement organs and implants are reserved for those who serve."

Adam nodded gravely. Maybe they would have a word with Hein about getting Livia some artificial lungs. He watched Lunchbox solder the newly fabricated RAM chip into the motherboard, and then disassemble and reassemble the cathode ray tube after restoring the broken screen. Adam had to admit, while he was a pretty good gearhead, he would have been completely lost trying to fix an old computer, or even a replica of one.

In less than an hour, the Genesis was restored to a functional state. "Just need to plug it into the power converter... and done!" Lunchbox was ecstatic at the prospect of finding out what was in the floppy. He switched the computer on, and a friendly chime came out of the PC's speaker.

It was then that Hannibal came back from his errand, and brough Adam's duffel bag from the car outside. Adam shoved it in the backseat of the Spinner, then approached Lunchbox and handed him the floppy.

Lunchbox slotted it in.

"Ack!..." Adam winced.

"What's wrong?" asked Garrus.

"Tali made my new eye a little too sensitive..." Adam closed one of his eyes, and the contents of the computer screen became easier to read, despite the scanlines. "I'll be fine."

**WHO ARE YOU? **

Those were the words shown on the screen, blue on bright white, with a small field under it, waiting to be filled.

"Type... Jensen," Adam told Lunchbox.

**"BEWARE THE...?"**

"I think that's some kind of password challenge," said Lunchbox. "I'm guessing we only get one try before the computer fries itself, or something."

"Field wants six letters," said Garrus. "Any clues as to what the password is?"

"Yeah," said Adam, after a moment's consideration. "Ragman."

Lunchbox typed the word, and for a moment the screen went black... and then went white again as a menu came up, listing journal entries. The team went through them, one by one.

**ENTRY 1 - Bioroids**

**The Council are fools. They think that Nielsen was a one time case. The possibility that there may be others like her in the Citadel doesn't seem to concern them too much. They assigned a few Spectres to keep an eye out for more, but I don't think they're taking the threat seriously enough. One of them, a Salarian, pointed out that mechs surrounded by artificial flesh can easily be detected by modern sensor equipment.**

**This raises the question: How did Nielsen go undetected for so long? I need to investigate this... and until I understand this new enemy better, I cannot trust anyone.**

* * *

><p><strong>ENTRY 2 - Sensors<strong>

**Modern security sensors depend on MRI (Mass Resonance Imaging) technology to detect weapons and contraband. A low-frequency dark energy pulse is sent out, and based on the response of the material the sensor can accurately tell the composition of an object. Problem with that: the Nielsen Bioroid's endoskeleton is alloyed with element zero. The techs confirmed that they needed to recalibrate their sensors to get a better reading on Nielsen's bones.**

**The alloying wasn't made to deflect biotics.**

**It was made to fool sensors.**

**UPDATE**

**Jensen possesses an older sensor suite based on t-waves that can apparently scan bones deeply enough to detect fractures. When he comes back, I can perhaps duplicate this technology and make it standard for every C-Sec agent.**

**Spirits, where is he?**

* * *

><p><strong>ENTRY 3 - 'Snatching'<strong>

**Jensen's report on the Neo-Kobe incident worries me. Apparently this 'Volkov Industries' attempted to use Bioroids like Nielsen to kill and replace VIPs. Nielsen's own identity was a fabrication, of course, and she could change her appearance... but I can't help but think that anyone at any time can be replaced, or 'Snatched', as Jensen put it. This would require two things:**

**First, a sample of DNA: While Nielsen's skin could change its shape, I believe that was a special model designed for special infiltration missions. In order to perfectly imitate someone, a Snatcher would need to cover itself with the cloned flesh of its victim. It's not that simple, of course: the lack of bone marrow causes issues. But still, being able to bleed adds an important layer of realism to the Snatcher.**

**Second, the 'Snatcher' would require the memories of the victim, otherwise sooner or later they would be suspected of not being who they appear to be. Stealing memories is, according to my research, entirely possible. The Dream Catcher beds can be in theory used to scan memories... although it could take days or even weeks for the entirety of one's life to be copied and stored inside the computer brain. The longer one has lived, the longer that process should take.**

**Possible Criterias for Snatcher detection:**

**-Owns a Dream Catcher**

**-Recent extended absence**

**-DNA or other abnormalities in skin samples**

"...Dude, what the fuck is this?!" Lunchbox started to sweat. "Is this for real?!"

"Yeah," said Adam. "It's for real."

"I mean... any one of us could be one of those things! I could be one of them!"

"Lunchbox, relax. I had a look at you, and Hannibal didn't smell any cloned flesh on you. You're human."

"...Okay, okay but..."

"Let's just keep reading, okay?" Adam glanced over at Livia, who was trembling.

**ENTRY 4 - TESTS**

**I ordered our doctors to take skin samples and run DNA tests. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just when I start thinking we're in the clear, it occurs to me that Snatchers may have found ways around these tests. Plain old hacking is one of them. It would be simple to doctor the results and the data that's being sent to me. Or maybe a doctor got snatched. I don't know.**

**I just don't know. Have I become paranoid? **

**...It occurs to me now, the brilliance of these Snatchers. If nobody knows about them, then they're free to infiltrate any organization and kill anyone they wish. If everyone knows about them... then panic, unrest and paranoia will spread like wildfire, and they wouldn't even need to be active to cause damage.**

**ENTRY 5 - POTENTIAL TARGETS ON THE CITADEL**

**-Politicians**

**-Police officers (high-ranking)**

**-Military officers (high-ranking)**

**-Doctors (to scope out potential victims and falsify exams)**

**-Bankers**

**-Spectres**

**That last one reminds me... we're due to have human Spectres soon. The candidates need to be watched.**

* * *

><p><strong>ENTRY 6 - Sabotage<strong>

**Someone sabotaged the entrance sensors at the academy... after I modified them. And now someone is bureaucratically blocking their repairs.**

**It's them. It has to be them.**

**But WHO is THEM?**

* * *

><p><strong>ENTRY 7 - CRT Test<strong>

**It occurred to me that Nielsen's eyes were electronic. If that's the case, then she would have had a hard time seeing anything on an old CRT monitor. Being a Junker, getting my hands on one wasn't hard, and so I've devised a test: instructions to an exam are to be displayed on a CRT, and the answers are to be written on a datapad. I've managed to get a hold of most of the humans in C-Sec and had them tested all at once. Here are the results:**

"Wow, that's a lot of names," said Garrus.

"There's ah... there's a search function!" suggested Lunchbox, nervously. "Can we like, do a quick one on _the cops we're trapped with in this bunker of a house surrounded by Snowblind?"_

Garrus listed the names off the top of his head, and Lunchbox typed them in:

DANA BIERS, PC 2 - PASS

SAM ANDERS, PC 1 - PASS

GALEN TYRELL, CORPORAL - PASS

GORDON LANG, PC 3 - FAILED

ARMANDO BAILEY, SERGEANT - FAILED

"Oh, fuck...!" muttered Lunchbox, as the lights went out. The backup power cell on the power converter kicked in, and the monitor flickered.

**Adam, Garrus... if you are reading this then I am probably dead or worse, you're in my house, and they just cut the power. There are Tungsten Ammo mods in the study and in the garage. Protect my granddaughter. Hunt the Snatchers down.**

**IF YOU SURVIVE FIND OLEEN**

**PS: If you're Adam or Garrus' Snatcher, then this is for you:**

An image appeared on screen, that of Nielsen's mangled head, with the words **SHE DIED SCREAMING LIKE A BITCH AND SO WILL YOU** written on the bottom in big capital letters.

"Lang!" shouted Biers down the hall. "What are you— AAAAAAAAARGH!"

Livia gasped at the horrible sound. Adam moved quickly and barricaded the door to the hall "You two!" he pointed at Lunchbox and Livia. "In the car, NOW!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><strong>AUTHOR'S NOTES: Well, there it is, chapter 47. It took quite a bit more time than usual to write this, so apologies are in order.<strong>

**Speaking of crappy old computers, here's some trivia: I was the artist that designed the dark blue computers you find in the offices in Human Revolution. You know, the ones you couldn't use? As I recall, the defining characteristic of these things was 'Cheap', and I had to consider what that meant in the year 2027. It occurred to me that it would be a simple thing to cram the electronics of a modern day cell-phone into a stand, a keyboard and a flatscreen. Why not Tablets? Well, probably because tablets would be perceived by corporate big wigs as toys, and the computers needed to look like proper workstations. **

**The simple design of the casing contrasted well with the high-tech look of the terminals you could interface with, as while it was quite slim and sleek, the aesthetics matched those of rugged late 1990's electronics. Personally, I would have suggested we make the hackable terminals look like high-tech Triptychs to keep with the Modern Renaissance theme, but alas! I left the art team before I could get around to that.**

**Miles Pallin's first name is pronounced 'me less'.**

**Spellcheck by WarpObscura.**


	56. Chapter 48: In Sheep's clothing, part 3

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Deus Ex is the property of Square Enix

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 48: In Sheep's Clothing, part 3

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Nathan Frost is voiced by Nolan North<strong>_

_**Ambassador Thorman Owens is voiced by Bruce Boxleitner**_

_**Yang Wen-Li is voiced by Alessandro Juliani**_

_**Kim Tae-yeon is voiced by Christina Hendricks**_

_**The Romanian is voiced by Phil Lamarr**_

_**John Vandermark is voiced by Mark Meer**_

_**Maya Brooks is played by Ruth Negga**_

_**Chad Dumier is played by Chiwetel Eijofor**_

_**High Augur Lynn May Chen is played by Lucy Liu**_

_**Captain Robin Aubrey is played by Russell Crowe**_

_**Christoph Waltz as Dieter Bosch  
>Pedro Pascal as Hector Canovas <strong>_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>"Politics makes strange bedfellows." <strong>_

**-****Charles Dudley Warner**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>LOAD STREAM: CITADEL NEWS<strong>_

_**BUFFERING...**_

_"Welcome to Citadel News. I am your host, Emily Wong. It was a sad day for C-Sec, as a ceremony was held for the late Executor Verum Pallin yesterday. The raising of his memorial obelisk marked the official end of his 20 year tenure as commander in chief of C-Sec, and the beginning of Sephtis Falsum's. Executor Falsum was not present, still deflecting the fallout of the disastrous joint C-Sec/Alliance operation on the Citadel, as well as allegations of zyme consumption and solicitation of Volus..." Wong suppressed a snicker. "...prostitutes."_

_The camera switched from 2 to 3, and Wong turned to face it. "Also missing from the ceremony was Livia Pallin, Verum Pallin's granddaughter, who is still missing. C-Sec has only now begun the search for her. Detective Chellick had this to say:_

_**"Livia Pallin is unfortunately, because of the present situation, not a major priority right now. However whatever resources that we could spare have been assigned to the task of finding her."**_

_"In other news, all of the Citadel — not to mention Citadel space — is holding its collective breath. After days of tests and deliberation, the Council is finally ready to announce who will have the distinction of being the first human Spectre. The emergency meeting has been called and set to begin in an hour. Citadel News is of course, ready to bring you live at the scene and..." Wong tapped her earpiece, and smiled. "It seems we've got some incoming breaking news. C-Sec has finally released the identity of the one they believe is responsible for the Queens Hospital bombing. An All Points Bulletin has been called for..." She became distraught, and looked at someone past the camera. "Are you sure? I mean.. are you SURE..." She took a deep breath. "An All Points Bulletin has been called for Adam Jensen... who is also believed to be responsible for the deaths of C-Sec police officers Dana Biers, Galen Tyrell and Sam Anders at the... Pallin estate debacle?! PATEL! WHAT THE (BLEEP) IS THIS—_

_**STREAM ENDS** _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the vast chamber of the Presidium, all eyes were on the Council, and Sparatus' eyes were upon the five Terran Spectre candidates.<p>

He was not a happy man at this moment. The one he had wanted to step forward and take his well deserved place had turned to terrorism. Instead, he had these:

Kim Tae-Yeon, a shapely Terran Asian pilot who enjoyed parading about in a black flight suit practically painted on her skin. The past two days had proven without the shadow of a doubt that she deserved her reputation as the Vampire Private Military Corporation's best contractor... but psychological profiling had revealed that she had some very strong sociopathic tendencies.

Elsa Devereaux would have been a better choice, Sparatus had thought at first: she was proper military, for one thing, and her record aboard a Wanzer had been just as good as Kim's. As an added bonus, she had distinguished herself against Saren's forces on Noveria. This was marred by her criminal record, which the European government had tried to suppress. It had revealed a history of substance abuse and an interesting career as a getaway driver, not to mention a rebellious attitude barely tempered by the years in service.

Nathan Frost, unlike Devereaux, had lost Sparatus' approval almost immediately. Despite his military bearing, it was obvious he was a show-off, and greatly enjoyed the attention the Spectre candidacy brought him. He was, however, rated to be a better soldier than either Devereaux or Kim.

John Vandermark. In attitude, he was the complete opposite of Frost, and while Sparatus had thought that good at first... something about the soldier in grey N7 gear unnerved the Councillor a great deal. As if he had, as humans like to put it, no soul. He had also taken part in that disaster at the Pallin estate, and as far as he was concerned, he should have been disqualified. But of course, Udina had come to his rescue, claiming the op was approved by Spectre Tarkus... and Tarkus himself had backed him up on this. Apparently Tarkus was convinced that Adam Jensen presented a threat to the security of the Citadel, after he apparently succeeded in penetrating the Spectre Affairs office's electronic security.

Finally, Yang Wen-Li. Sparatus had expected that the commander of that giant monstrosity called the Agamemnon would have a more dignified bearing, but instead he discovered that Yang Wen-Li was an wild-haired, mild-mannered eccentric who hated shoes. Sparatus hated eccentrics. Shepard had been an eccentric, though she probably thought of herself as charming.

_How can any of these be worthy,_ Sparatus asked himself,_ when they're so tangled up in these... strings? _And there were many strings, figuratively speaking. Every candidate was backed by a nation or organization with its own agenda on the galactic stage, and Kim was probably the most tangled up of the lot, most notably by various corporations such as Tokugawa Heavy Industries. Devereaux herself had some involvement with Europa Genomics, but Bau had cleared her of corruption by the megacorp turned bio-terrorist organization.

As Tevos went through the motions of her speech, Sparatus kept thinking. _I hate these people_, he thought. _But even those I hate deserve to be proven worthy_. _How can I prove one of these worthy, beyond the shadow of a doubt? Because Vandermark is not worthy. Being the LEAST crazy of the five did not make for a good Spectre. Jensen was worthy. Jensen was dutiful, and capable, and most of all he was truly humble about it._

_And now he's a criminal._

_Wait._

_That's it._

_Let's see you crawl your way out of this one, Udina._

"Councillor Sparatus?" asked Tevos, getting worried about the cold hard stare the Turian councillor was giving Vandermark. Sparatus held his silence for ten more seconds, and finally spoke.

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen... and we face a difficult choice here. All of you have proven to be talented soldiers and pilots and commanders... but are you capable agents?"

Everyone gathered in the chamber looked at each other, confused. Sparatus was way off script. "What are you doing?!" murmured Tevos angrily.

"The Council has decided to give you this tie-breaker," Sparatus continued, ignoring her. "As you've no doubt heard, the most wanted _human_ on earth is now a fugitive from Citadel law, and is, as far as anyone can tell, still at large on this very station. The first of you to bring Adam Jensen to C-Sec _alive_ will have, without a doubt, proven him or herself worthy of the title of Spectre."

As far as Sparatus was concerned, two things would come of this. Either Adam killed them all, which would humiliate all of Earth and halt any talk of a human Spectre for two more decades, or one of them would actually rise to the challenge and bring Adam in so that he could explain himself.

Either way, Sparatus would be content. "You have three days," he added.

There was, of course, quite an uproar.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"What in the HELL were you thinking?!"<p>

In the Council meeting chamber, once she was safe from the onslaught of cameras and reporters, Tevos let her usual matronly veneer drop and showed some genuine anger at Sparatus' stunt. More infuriating was the fact that the Turian seemed more interested in his drink than looking at her.

"I was thinking that you were about to make a critical mistake," said Sparatus. "Someone had to stop you from making it."

"The Alliance and Vandermark are the best option for us! The Alliance is representative of all of Earth! A Spectre from any other organization would upset the balance of power!"

"Vandermark is a _puppet_." Sparatus spat the last word. "You've seen that aide that hovers around him? She was practically feeding him his dialogue."

"I can actually vouch for that," said Valern, who was reclining on his chair. "He's got an earpiece linked to her Omni-Tool."

"Of course he's a puppet!" Tevos threw her hands in the air. "The first human Spectre was always going to be a puppet! The point is we picked the right puppet master! We ALL agreed on the Alliance!"

Sparatus slammed his fist on the desk, shutting her up immediately. "Politics are NOT a factor in Spectre selection! Spectres are our main line of defence against complete chaos! The men and women we select must be the best of the best! And do you think I'm BLIND, Tevos?! I know you had a hand in the exams. I know you engineered the tests to allow Vandermark to come out on top!"

"...I had to at least pretend to be fair, for the sake of—"

"I know why you did it, and so I MADE it fair! These fools will earn that Spectre Status or they will DIE trying, AS THEY SHOULD! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go have and have a word with Tarkus about him attacking Pallin's home!"

Tevos stared daggers at Sparatus' back as he left.

"I have to admit, I also happen to think that Sparatus did the right thing."

The Asari groaned as she took a seat. "You can't be serious."

"The Alliance may appear as the best choice on paper, but their actions lately have me doubting their credibility as a galactic power. Let's take Udina, for example: he was chosen by the Alliance Parliament to represent their interests to us... and he's quite incompetent."

"That's putting it mildly."

"And then you've got their blatant expansion to the Traverse, in clear violation of their treaty with the Batarians. We let that one slide, since the Batarians had been a problem with their rampant slaving business, but the fact is that the Alliance has made a point to make quite a few enemies and kept the Council's relationship with Earth tense."

"So, you think that we should throw our support for one of the other power blocs?"

Valern nodded. "Personally, I think that the Coalition would be a good choice. Their society and culture is the most compatible with the Turians."

Tevos shook her head. "It would mean good relations in the short term, but the Coalition's expansionist policies are bound to cause conflict some time down the line. The European Union has quite a few socialist policies as well as a venerable culture."

"It's a shame half their cabinet and military commanders are members of the Order Church. That leaves the UNAS and the OCU..."

"The OCU is a capitalist dystopia run by megacorps like Europa Genomics and the UNAS is, from what I've told, on the verge of falling apart. None of them are suitable in the long run."

"It's a shame there are so few independent humans around. Even Terran colonists are connected to the Alliance in some way. The rest are criminals."

"Even if that weren't the case, an independent human would just make everyone angry."

"Maybe, but at least the balance of power would have been kept."

Tevos sighed, and rubbed her eyes. "I hate this. With the other races we didn't have to deal with a web of political intrigue: one government, one goal, one culture, one _SPECTRE. _The situation on Earth is starting to eat up all our time. If we don't resolve this soon..."

"Well, Sparatus solved this for us. Three days, remember? If the four candidates do not accomplish the task within that time period, and I strongly suspect that will be the case, then we can deny the humans a Spectre without losing face."

"And after that, we will be due for another decade of Udina complaining, this time backed up by a chorus from representatives of the UNAS, OCU, EU, and the Coalition. Does that sound appealing to you?"

Valern betrayed no emotion, even though the thought of suffering Udina for another decade triggered some very, very violent thoughts.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsewhere on the Citadel, in a spacious private hotel dining room granted to them for the length of their evaluations, the five candidates were gathered around a table, having been summoned by none other than Commodore Yang Wen-Li, commander of the Coalition Supercarrier <em>Agamemnon<em>.

"I think we should work together on this," said the young officer, sitting cross-legged and barefoot on his chair.

At this, Nathan Frost simply laughed. The american soldier, wearing his Army Ranger uniform, was leaning back against his chair, his boots on the table. "Did you miss the part where this is supposed to be a _competition, _kid?"

Elsa simply stared at the dishevelled young man, wondering what his angle was. When she had first met him, she had been quite shocked to see that the infamous commander of the greatest warship in the Coalition Navy was in fact a lanky young man that seemed to have trouble keeping track of his shoes and his comb, and seemed to be completely lost without his assistant around. Hardly a leader of men, judging by his reputation.

Then again, a lot of people underestimated Elsa for the simple reason that she was fairly small compared to taut-bodied powerhouses like Vandermark and Frost. Thus, she was quite wary of the young Coalition officer. One did not earn the nickname 'The Miracle' for nothing.

"It stopped being a competition the minute Sparatus sent us after Jensen," stated Yang.

"Says you," countered Frost. "A bullet in the brainpan will end anyone, even a robot like Jensen, and if there's anything we got plenty of in the Army, it's bullets."

"Good plan," said Kim, sarcastically. She turned to Lieutenant Vandermark, who was sitting on his chair with his back ramrod straight. "Didn't you try something like that, Vanderbeam?"

Vandermark looked at Kim and said nothing at first, as always. It was as if he was carefully considering what to say next. "The name is Vandermark," he said, finally.

"Whatever," dismissed Kim.

"...And I have no idea what you are talking about," he added.

"What ARE you talking about?" asked Frost... and then, something dawned on him. "That mess over at that fancy kittybird's house. You're saying Jensen was there?"

"...I can neither confirm nor deny this," replied Vandermark, flatly.

"He waaaas..." Kim giggled. "And Johnny-boy here made a complete mess of things. Chased Jensen all over the Ward with a Mako II and now he has nothing to show for it."

"...Who told you this?" asked Vandermark. His tone was barely accusatory.

"Oh, a little bird," said Kim, coyly.

"If this is true," Yang said to Vandermark, as he picked on his tiny bowl of peanuts. "then you of all people should understand what we're up against. There's a very good reason Sparatus gave us this mission: He doesn't expect any of us to succeed, because he doesn't expect us to work together. If we prove him right on both counts, the Council will be quite justified in denying humanity its first Spectre."

"Okay," humoured Frost. "Let's assume we all come together and capture Jensen and bring him to the Council. Then what? Who gets to claim the credit for his capture? Everyone?"

"Sure, why not?" replied Yang.

Frost got up. "Bullshit. I know what you are. I know what you're planning. You'll just sit back while we take all the risks."

"I didn't mean—"

"Piss off, _Coolie_," Frost spat, and he made his way out. "There can only be one human Spectre, and I'll be damned if it's going to be _you_."

"Well, that could have gone better," said Kim, as she followed Frost out. Wordlessly, Elsa and Vandermark left as well, leaving Yang alone to ponder his next move in silence.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I think you should consider it," said Ambassador Katsulas. The EU diplomat had called the pilot and potential Spectre to what would be the Union's own embassy on the Citadel. It was located on the fifth floor of an office building on Zakera Ward, as the EU could not secure an office at the Citadel Embassies' building on the Presidium ring.<p>

Katsulas, a Greek man in his late fifties, was staring out the window in what would be his office. From there he had a wonderful view of the Presidium Ring, and of the Presidium tower at its center. _My new battlefield,_ he thought. He turned to face Elsa, who couldn't quite believe what the ambassador had just said.

"You want me to consort with the enemy?" asked Elsa, who was standing right next to him.

"I would like you to cooperate with Yang," replied Katsulas. "To try and improve the Union's relationships with the Coalition, and perhaps avoid an all-out war."

"Somehow, I doubt Yang has the political clout necessary to stop one."

"Don't be so sure. Yang is a celebrated hero, after all. And it certainly would not hurt your chances of capturing Jensen to work with a master strategist. No offense, but when I picture you going up against a mechanically augmented agent like him, I simply do not see you coming out on top."

"I've actually remedied this: I've been granted support by the Americans."

"Frost?"

"No. DARPA has agreed to rent me their prototype combat mech. I'm supposed to pick it up at the _Surprise_ later. Having seen what it can do, I think my chances of succeeding this final test have improved considerably."

Katsulas took off his smart-glasses, took out a handkerchief from the pocket of his cream-coloured jacket, and proceeded to clean his spectacles. "Ah, yes... I've actually read your report on this 'Shadow 108'. It's not every day you read about a mech taking on a heavy weapons platform like a Zhuk single-handedly."

"You should try seeing it."

"I think I would like that," Katsulas said, smiling, as he put his glasses back on. "Still, great force of arms is only one aspect of being a Spectre. Being able to navigate a web of intrigue is another. If you need any advice on the political players on the Citadel, do let me know. My door is always open to you."

"Thank you... Actually, let's run a scenario: Assume that Yang and I work together and successfully capture Jensen. Do you think Yang would take all the credit?"

"No."

"...Wow, really?"

"Well, it depends. Yang's greatest flaws are his honesty and modesty. He would very likely give credit where credit was due. Ambassador Cherdenko, on the other hand..." Katsulas' mouth pursed, as if he tasted something sour and foul. "Cherdenko would not hesitate to make you look like a fool, and convince Yang to go along with the lie."

"Right, so I really shouldn't work with the Coalition, then."

"I did not say that. Assuming that you capture Jensen with Yang's help, it is imperative that you personally deliver him to C-Sec, loudly and publicly. It'll be very hard for Cherdenko to paint you as a fool. Basically, deal with Yang, and avoid Cherdenko like the plague."

"Not a fan of the _Coolie_ ambassador?"

"As my grandson would say, Cherdenko is a _troll_. He doesn't care about Yang becoming a Spectre so long as everyone else loses. Remember that."

"I will. Excuse me, Ambassador, but I must report to the Surprise."

"Of course, of course, I understand. By the way, I spoke to High Augur Chen. She's arranged some support, and I've asked her to deliver it to the Surprise."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Elsa did not like the VSE Surprise. The light carrier was a fine enough ship, of course. The issue Elsa had was with its crew. The Surprise's captain, Robin Aubrey, ran his crew like one from a pirate ship, as in the kind of pirate that sat on his ass all day drinking grog and looking mean. It also didn't help that there wasn't a single mainland European crew member aboard besides herself, Zoller, and the two new pilots assigned to the Silver Drakes. Since everyone in the Surprise's crew was from the British Isles and were not happy about losing the unification, the feeling was quite mutual.<p>

The term 'Gaulish whore' had been whispered just outside of Elsa's hearing range.

Aubrey himself, on the other hand, had been quite courteous to her. In fact, Elsa had liked the man almost immediately: it helped that the master and commander of the Surprise seemed to be the complete opposite of Ségal in just about every way that counted. It was just a shame that she had to suffer the glares of the crew on the way to his quarters, though.

Elsa sighed as she disembarked from the shuttle. Waiting for her on the landing pad was a man in his mid-twenties, clad in red and black and a pair of vibroswords hanging from his belt.

"You are Elsa Devereaux," he said, sternly.

"That I am. And you are?"

"Knight Penitent Caim Caerleon." As he articulated every word, Elsa noted that there was a large sigil on his tongue, made of blackened, burned flesh. Elsa was no doctor, but she realized that this Caerleon should have been in agonizing pain with every vowel and consonant he pronounced. He drew his sword, and Elsa took a step back and went for her pistol.

"Peace," he said as he knelt, his sword held in reverence. "By orders of Lord General Gismor and Her Holiness Herself, I am to assist you in the capture of the Abomination Adam Jensen. Until you release me, I am yours to command. My life is yours."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Tea?" asked Captain Aubrey as he poured himself a cup. "It's camomile."<p>

"Hold a moment," said Jondum Bau, as he checked his Omni-Tool's Toxicity App to see if he could drink the alien infusion. "...Yes," he said, once the app told him he had no reason to refuse.

"Milk and sugar?"

"Please."

Aubrey added sweetened condensed milk into another finely crafted ceramic cup atop a matching saucer, and then poured the steaming hot liquid into from a great height, producing foam. Jondum Bau observed the tea set: the fragile china painted in Moorish pattens contrasted sharply with their sturdy metallic surroundings: the interior of the VSE _Surprise_ matched that of the Acheron, but was cleaner and more sterile. Moreover, the _Surprise_, being a light carrier, needed to make very efficient use of its space: as such, Captain Aubrey's cabin was a bit cramped, and even that much room was considered luxurious aboard the ship.

Bau also noted a few Terran stringed musical instruments, and wondered if Aubrey was a skilled musician. This reminded him of another detail in Devereaux's file: her grades in high school had been average, but she had excelled in music class as a violinist.

"So," said Aubrey as he sat opposite of Bau and started sipping his tea. "What brings you aboard my ship?"

"I came aboard to discuss Spectre business with Lieutenant Devereaux."

"Ah. Classified?"

"Not so much now. It concerns Adam Jensen."

"Ah, him. I take it you want to assist her in his capture?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"Won't that be a factor in her evaluation?"

"I suppose it is no surprise if I were to tell you that Sparatus is not a fan of humanity in general, yes?"

Aubrey nodded.

"Sparatus expects every candidate to try and capture Jensen on their own, and fail. And frankly, odds are very good that they will, unless they receive assistance. And I am willing to assist Elsa: of all the candidates, she actually has the most experience fighting the Geth and she'll provide a unique skillset to the Spectres." He left the fact that he honestly didn't care about the politics of her home nation. Nihlus had said it best: Politics shouldn't factor in Spectre selection. "And since the others will fail, Elsa _will_ be selected."

"Well, you're not lacking in confidence. But the lass is getting plenty of assistance already, I'd say."

"Oh? Who from?"

"Well, DARPA sent us some kind of prototype mech to assist Elsa with her mission. It cost my government a pretty penny, but seeing as they've written me a blank cheque to provide her with any equipment she might require, I happily obliged."

"...This mech would be painted black with some golden-bronze parts, wouldn't it?"

"I wouldn't know. It's still in its packaging."

"I see." Bau made a mental note to steal this mech the first chance he got. After all, it had some Prothean technology integrated with it. "I would have thought DARPA would be supporting either Frost or Vandermark. Why give Elsa a mech?"

"Figured this Edgar Hein fellow had a soft spot for the girl. She is kinda cute, if you haven't noticed, in a wounded bird sort of way."

Bau quirked his eyebrow, and that got a chuckle out of Aubrey.

"In any case," continued the Captain. "No sooner than I receive a package from DARPA do I get news from Ambassador Katsulas that he's arranged for a Templar anti-cyborg expert to come aboard. He's currently waiting outside the ship."

_That was interesting_, thought Bau. _And also, very worrying. I'll have tread carefully around this Templar. He would no doubt report my every action to his masters. Perhaps I could arrange for an accident... Yes, that would be best. _"...Yes, the young man with the swords. I saw him outside. Why haven't you let him in?"

"Well, I may be a God-fearing man, and I know better than to refuse a gift from Her Holiness... but this is my ship, and Templars have a bad tendency to think they're in charge because they have the best toys. Let him wait outside for now. I'll bring him in when I damn well feel like it."

"You are a member of the Order?" asked Bau, warily.

"As is much of Europe, you'll find. That doesn't mean we get along with Templars."

"Glad to hear it."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>AIA Agent 'Rasa', currently operating under the identity of 'Maya Brooks', had been a bit surprised when ambassador Udina had called her to his office, since as far as anyone was concerned she was little more than a personal assistant to Spectre candidate John Vandermark.<p>

She was even more surprised when she found him waiting for her OUTSIDE his office, as the man was known to treat this bit of space as his personal little palace.

"Ah, Ms... Brooks, is it?" The diplomat greeted her when she approached. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, and Brooks had an idea as to why. Spectre Tarkus' plan to kill Adam Jensen had received Udina's full cooperation. Despite an entire squad of Alliance Marines, a Mako II tank, and the presence of an N7 class super soldier, Adam Jensen had somehow managed to escape. With Jensen still at large and now a wanted criminal (thanks to a few well placed and very fresh bodies courtesy of the Asset), it was easy to conclude that Udina fully expected the cyborg to come kill the ambassador in his sleep.

"Ah, hello, Mr. ambassador, sir," said Brooks, playing the part of a greenhorn out of her depth just about anywhere in any situation. "Did I do something wrong? No, err, I mean..."

"There's... someone interested in meeting you in my office," he said, with surprising restraint. "It's very important, and... well, please don't keep her waiting."

"...As you wish, sir..." Brooks replied with false hesitance.

The door slid open, and as she stepped through the threshold she was shocked to be suddenly staring at two rows of fangs inside the mouth of a pale face, cloaked in black cloth. From behind those teeth came a hungry hiss, and Brooks took a step back.

"Not need to be scared," said an Asari in an elegant armoured red robe staring out of the balcony, with an entire entourage of Asari in matching armour waiting patiently around her. She turned around, and gave Brooks a slight, but disarmingly warm smile. "Forgive Coronis, Ms. Brooks," said the Asari in the red dress, beckoning Brooks to approach. "She likes to stand near doors and say _boo_. Please, have a seat."

"I'm ah... I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage..." stated Brooks nervously, as she took a seat, her eyes keeping track of the thin, cloaked figure.

"You may call me Amelyssan, Ms. Brooks."

"Amelyssan... okay. May I... may I ask why you've called me here?"

"Of course." Amelyssan paced around Brooks. "I simply wanted to negotiate a deal that would greatly benefit the Alliance."

"Oh! Well..." Brooks made herself seem flustered. "Well, that's much more Mr. Udina's thing than mine, I just handle phone calls, and the like, and..."

"It was obvious that Amelyssan was not buying Brooks's act. "Tell your immediate superior — Vandermark, was it? — tell Vandermark that the Justicars are more than willing to help capture this fugitive he's so interested in at the moment... assuming, of course, our conditions are met."

"I'm sorry, the _Justicars_?"

"...Please, Ms. Brooks, you can't be as ignorant as you seem... "Amelyssan held her gaze for a moment, then continued. "...but since you insist on being so, very well... let's just say that the Justicar Order is a very influential group, and that we have at our disposal some of the most powerful biotics in the galaxy — which you can certainly use, at the moment — and that we're willing to put them at your disposal."

"For Adam Jensen's capture..."

"Yes."

"And what would those conditions be, exactly?"

Amelyssan nodded at one of the Justicars in her entourage, who proceeded to hand Brooks a datapad. On it was the picture of an albino Asari, along with a suspiciously brief profile.

"This is Manah T'soni, a serial killer, and we need your assistance in capturing her."

"You do?"

"Unfortunately. You see, T'soni has an uncanny ability to... what's the human expression? Wrap people around her finger? She's managed to seduce several people into keeping her from justice. Her most recent conquest is this man..."

The data on the pad scrolled down, and showed the profile of one Marcus Tan Aderyn, a Private in the US Marine Corps. She had to contain her surprise and anger when she realized that Marcus was, in fact, an alien. _The Marines were recruiting aliens, now?_ she thought. _This warrants some investigation... and action._

"Marcus Tan Aderyn..." continued Amelyssan, "...has disguised T'soni as a human girl and hid her aboard the Durendal... which we cannot enter without causing some diplomatic trouble. Bring her to us, unharmed and unspoiled, and when Vandermark confronts Adam Jensen once again, he will have six Justicars at his back to help him."

"...Well, I doubt my superiors will go for such a deal. I mean, we do have our own biotics!" Despite herself, Brooks couldn't help but think of this as a point of pride. After all, human biotics — thanks to Subject Zero and the recent rediscovery of pre-Collapse cybernetics — have enjoyed a rate of improvement far above which has ever been recorded by the any other sapient race in the galaxy. "And they're very good!"

"Oh really?" asked Amelyssan, with disingenuous curiosity, her expression slightly amused, as always. "Then perhaps your... superiors need to have a look at that video file?" She pointed again at the datapad, and Brooks quickly found that file that the Asari in red was talking about.

_"Who's thirsty?!"_ shouted Adam in the video. Almost immediately the vending machine impacted against the Mako II's side, sending it flipping sideways and onto its back. The two biotics on Vandermark's team had not reacted in time, and when they tried to stop the old aircar in mid-air, there had been two gunshots as Jensen shot them in the kneecaps, stopping them immediately. This was most certainly not the Alliance's finest hour.

What Brooks found troubling, however, was that the video was shot from the point of view of a marine — one Ashley Williams, according to the text at the bottom — and she quickly wondered how these Asari had gotten their hands on it. She took a mental note for the AIA to double check their security.

"Well," Brooks began, "I think my superiors are going to ask me, 'how are these Asari any better?'"

Amelyssan barely moved as her body flared with dark energy, and Brooks felt her hidden pistol move out of her sleeve. The hold out weapon was not impressive, but sturdy and reliable. And, again with hardly a movement, the aura shifted into the gun, now held aloft in front of Brooks.

A split second later, it crumpled into a perfect little marble of metal and polymers.

Brooks tried not to gulp as the marble dropped into her hand. "...I think my superiors might very well be interested in this arrangement."

"Glad to hear it," replied Amelyssan.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>In the main hangar bay, Sub-Lieutenant Dieter 'Jaeger' Bosch groomed his Combover Fade with the help of a mirror hung on the side of his Nachtvogel light Wanzer's calf. His long time friend, Midshipman Hector 'Trovador' Canovas, was sleeping in a hammock set up between his <em>Serpent <em>medium Wanzer's legs. Everyone that ever met them thought the duo odd: Bosch carried himself like a dandy, while Canovas seemed like quite the scruffy rogue. Some had thought they might have been lovers, and while Canovas was not against the idea, Bosch was a happily married man, and Canovas was far too respectful of his friend to try entering into an adulterous relationship.

"So, what do you think about our new Lieutenant?" asked Bosch as he finally tucked his ivory comb in his pocket. The duo, after a brief separation, had been reunited to be part of the elite Silver Drakes unit. Bosch would serve as a recon scout, while Canovas would be providing electronic and long range missile support. Thus, it made sense to ask what Hector thought of their commanding officer.

"I think she's _French_," said Canovas, suggestively. Canovas had a fondness for French women, as more often than not they straddled that wonderful line between slutty and classy. _If only their men were the same,_ he had often thought to himself. Thankfully, the British had an ample supply of classy men. "Honestly," said Canovas, "this assignment is turning out to be a dream come true."

"I know what you mean, but it's not what I meant. Do you think she's got what it takes to be one of those, ah, '_Spectres_'?"

"I honestly don't care," yawned out the Chilean pilot as he got out of his hammock, rubbing his curly black hair and beard while he yawned. "I mean it's not like we were given a chance to know her intimately. She said hello, we said hello, and then she went to her quarters."

"Well, I happened to have studied her dossier quite extensively."

"And?"

"I think she has it in her. She'll obviously need help, however."

"Yes, I hear Jensen's quite the beast."

"That's... not quite what I meant, actually. What I meant was that the job sounds positively stressful. I don't suppose you can remedy that, hm?"

"I'm working on it, really!" Canovas laughed, but the truth was that Devereaux did not seem in the mood for romance. "Speaking of help. I think they're about to open that box they got from DARPA."

"Are they?" Bosch followed Canovas' finger, pointed at an approaching party — composed of Devereaux, an alien, a Templar, and the captain — that was making its way towards the dull black box that had been delivered to the Surprise. The senior members of the Drakes, including Zoller, passed the new transfers by. "Is it time?" he asked them.

"Aye, it is," said Taggart the Scotsman, tersely.

Bosch and Canovas strode towards the group, walking alongside them. "You seem a little unhappy, mister Taggart," noted Canovas.

"Of course I'm bloody unhappy. We're about to have a bloody ROBOT in our midst."

"Hey, don't knock the robot," said Hermes. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing that thing again. Wonder if it comes with that dog..."

"What are we, the bloody Coalition?" Taggart gave Hermes a dirty look. "Because they _love_ their robots too, the bloody red _bastards_."

"I see nothing wrong with us having the Shadow 108 around," said Zoller. Bosch had taken a liking to the young pilot when they were introduced, as he reminded him of his own son. "In fact," Zoller continued, "I do recall it helped us overcome the Krogan Zhuk..."

"You don't bloody separate soldiers from the battlefield!" countered Taggart, angrily. "And you certainly don't get soulless machines to do the fighting for them!"

"I thought we were sailors?" quipped Bosch. "Making soulless machines fight for us is pretty much our job description, no?"

"Heathens. Heathens, the lot of ye." But of course, Taggart's grumbling had been quickly drowned out by the laughter of the rest of the Silver Drakes.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Well now!" bellowed Captain Aubrey to his crew, who had gravitated around the mysterious black box. "Looks like we've got quite the crowd gathering!"<p>

"Just hoping for our share of the loot, sir!" shouted one of the sailors, which got a chuckle out of everyone present... all, save for Elsa, who had wanted this 'unboxing' to be a private affair and was not happy to have an audience.

"Now, hold on, gentlemen!" said Aubrey as he stepped on an ammo crate. "This box and what's inside of it are still very much the property of the yanks! They loaned it to us, see? And they're not going to be happy with us unless we give it back in pristine condition. That means nobody draws graffiti on it, nobody does anything lewd with it, nobody draws lewd graffiti on it, and nobody pees on it." Aubrey pointed at someone in the crowd. "That means YOU, Merrick!"

"Aw man!" responded Merrick, and the chuckles became roaring laughter.

"Settle down, sailors!" Aubrey waited for the laughter to die down, then turned to Lieutenant Deveraux. "Lieutenant, would you care to do the honours and show these men what the fuss is about?"

Elsa stepped up to the large rectangular crate, which was made out of smooth titanium, painted black. A thin seam ran up the middle of it, separating the white DARPA logo printed on the front of it in two. It looked like a corporate coffin, and while that unsettled her a bit, she found herself feeling a bit... thrilled? happy? She couldn't quite decide, but it made her eager to get this over with.

She input the code she had been given on a slip of paper into a haptic interface that had activated as soon as she approached. She heard something click, and whirr, and awkwardly waited for a few seconds as nothing else happened.

And then, the fireworks burst from the top of box, showering the area with sparks. A pre-recorded orchestral tune came on, which everyone could agree felt very American and very patriotic, and made them want to salute the UNAS flag, and defend their mum's pies from giant, freedom-hating monsters.

"Where IS that song from?" wondered Basch out loud.

"I think I rather like DARPA." Canovas smiled. "Who runs it?"

The little fanfare died down quickly, and the final locks made a loud clack as they became loose. The coffin's doors opened like an obsidian triptych, to reveal the Shadow 108 Mech, strapped inside a man-shaped indentation. Elsa was a bit surprised, as it was evident that 'Shadow' had been given a few upgrades. The armour was different, and the helmet had a polarized visor. Besides the mech, nestled in memory foam, was a small arsenal of rifles, handguns, and blades.

Aubrey and the Silver Drakes (save for Taggart, of course) let out an impressed whistle, while the rest of the crew let out various _whoas_ and _oohs_ and _aahs. _Caim, in contrast, let out a shout of fury.

**"Abomination!"**

Popola sang as Caim drew her from her scabbard, ready to finish what she had started back on Caleston.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: OCEANIC COOPERATIVE UNION: MILITARY<p>

In the early days of the OCU, Australia and Japan had managed to create and maintain a standing army dedicated to the furthering of their interests abroad, particularly in Asia. Over the past century, as the WTO began to have more and more influence in Japan and the OCU's culture became more and more centered around corporations and consumerism, its military became more and more privatized. Currently, the OCU's defense budget is primarily divided between _Bulwark Defense, Aegis Risk Control, and Defiance Aerospace._ Other, smaller, but elite companies, such as _Vampire_ and _Carrion Crow_, handle sensitive covert ops in enemy territory.

The OCU's PMCs all use similar tactics on land, air, sea, and space, due in part to the fact that their primary military hardware provider is Tokugawa Heavy Industries. Masters of electronic warfare and hit and fade tactics, their opening moves involve subverting or jamming enemy communications and sensors, followed up with an impressive salvo of missiles (often called the Missile Massacre), then moving in for the up-close kill in the resulting confusion.

Logistical strain is typically relieved by scavenging enemy equipment, making OCU military units quite eclectic.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>CODEX ENTRY: EARTH: COALITION OF COMMUNIST STATES: MILITARY<p>

Individually, Coalition vehicles and equipment are not as reliable as Europe's, or as advanced as the OCU's, or as powerful as the UNAS's. This is due to a design philosophy that stresses ease of manufacturing and maintenance. This is made up for by the Coalition's incredible industrial output, as the Red Army and Red Navy boast numbers that can nearly match that of the Turian Military. Furthermore, Coalition carriers are designed to be mobile factories, allowing them to establish a small industrial economy in a short amount of time, assuming the local resources are abundant.

The Coalition's military doctrine involves overwhelming the enemy with vast numbers of mechs (such as the _Georgie_) and drones (such as the _S__trelka_), before moving in with their vast main force. These VI operated units are sometimes directly and remotely controlled by elite soldiers and pilots, when programming limitations prevent the drones from accomplishing their objectives.

Despite this reliance on large numbers, the Coalition does invest in elite units, such as the _Zhuk_ series of mobile weapon platforms, the _Lei Gong _class super battleships, the _Xie Feng _multi-role fighter and the _Lenin_ class supercarrier (see: Agamemnon)

_"We are never outnumbered." **-General Jing Ju**_

_"They are, on occasion, outgunned and outmanoeuvred."_ _**-Colonel Edgar Hein**_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><span><strong>Author's notes:<strong> _I have no idea if you can serve Camomile tea Moroccan style, or even if it tastes good.

Okay, short chapter this month, with apologies. Truth is, I'm kind of running out of steam for this story, having worked on it and nothing else for so long, and I decided to put it on hold while I work on a Star Wars / Shadowrun crossover. I'll be working on it on Spacebattles, so watch that space for me.


	57. A Message from the Author

A Message from the author

First, let me reassure you: I'm not abandoning this story.

At least, I don't want to. Part of the reason as to why I put Mass Effect Human Revolution on hiatus is that I'm going through financial problems, and despite my best efforts I haven't been able to secure any work using my talent at drawing art. Worse still, my experience working on video games makes me look 'overqualified' for the service industry at the entry level.

The rent is due, and the fridge is getting empty. Internet access costs isn't free, and if this keeps up I won't be able to post anything anywhere on the net. Hell, I won't be able to write. I need help.

Thus, I've started a Patreon, and I humbly ask for you, dear readers, to contribute to it, and allow me to do what I do best. I'm not asking for much. If every single one of you donates 1 dollar per month, my financial troubles would be over. Keep in mind, the content you support will still be made available to everyone on the net, and for free.

Now, I don't think it's legal for me to set up a Patreon for fanfiction, but I CAN offer up some cool sci-fi art in exchange for your contributions, and I'm pretty sure Square Enix and Bioware can't pull a cease and desist for fanart of my fanfiction (wink wink, nudge nudge). Contributors will get to vote on my next art piece, a first look at some high quality designs, and will be allowed to download an exclusive, high resolution version of the artwork they contributed to. I'm also thinking about other rewards in the future, such as posters and a limited number 3d printed models of my designs.

To find my Patreon, type 'robotforge' at the end of Patreon's main page's url, separated with a slash. That should take you right there.

Sincerely and Humbly,

_Francois_

* * *

><p>PS: I'll be getting back to writing MEHR on May 1, regardless of how the Patreon goes.<p> 


	58. Chapter 49: In Sheep's Clothing, part 4

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Deus Ex is the property of Square Enix

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 49: In Sheep's Clothing, part 4

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em><strong>The "cast":<strong>_

Dieter 'Jaeger' Bosch - Christoph Waltz

Hector 'Trovador' Canovas - Pedro Pascal

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Early author's notes: I drew both Aleph and a young version of Daleth! You can see them on my deviantart, artstation, or patreon pages. Enjoy!<p>

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"DIE, ABOMINATION!"<p>

_"ENGAGING HOSTILE."_

"NO!" Elsa had screamed when Caerleon leapt forth and swung down on the 108. "YEAH!" the crowd cheered as the 108 grabbed a fairly harmless looking baton and knocked Caim's swing aside. The Templar's follow-throughs and ensuing combinations were brutal, and deadly, and refined by a decade of torturous training... and the 108 casually deflected them all with a stick.

"A hundred Euros on the robot!" shouted Captain Aubrey from atop his box, and Elsa lost all hope that this fight could be stopped peacefully. The sailors' blood was up, their cheers drowned out Elsa's shouts of protest, and their bodies formed a ring around the two combatants and traded bets even as the two fighters traded blows.

"Don't worry," said Bau, "this should be over soon."

And then, the 108 executed a perfect eskrima _Pangilog_, locking Caim's arm in place. The 108 raised its fist, and its knuckles opened to reveal bright, electrified needles, and readied itself to finish this.

"I can tell when someone is in full control of a fight," the Spectre added.

That was when the klaxon bellowed. _"Priority message coming in for captain Aubrey!"_ shouted the comm officer's voice over the intercom. _"Captain Aubrey please report to the CIC immediately!"_

With a simple look the Captain sent the sailors back to their posts and battlestations, and it seemed as if the band of ruffians had vanished, replaced by a proper crew of professionals. Aubrey beckoned Elsa to follow him.

"You two!" she shouted at the 108 and Caim. "Stay here and behave!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The CIC's holographic pit was displaying a layered image of a news stream. So far, it was typical: blocks of streaming text, people talking over some footage...<p>

Except the footage was that of the smoking, burning ruin of the Acheron freefalling towards the icy plains of Noveria. Or half the Acheron, perhaps. It was hard for Aubrey to make it out through the thick black stream of smoke.

"Non..." muttered Elsa, her voice trembling as she put her hands in front of her mouth, afraid to scream.

_"Behind me is all that remains of the VSE Acheron..."_ said the reporter, while a pillar of smoke rose out of a distant crater in the background. _"...one of the few Euro-Terran warships that operated beyond Sol, and had recently and famously led the defence of Noveria against a major Geth attack. As you can see, the Systems Alliance is busy securing the area and is scanning for survivors, but none have been found so far."_

_"Did the Geth return?" _asked the anchor.

The reporter shook her head._ "The Geth were not present when the Acheron began to transmit its Rampant Nanite alert across the entire system, nor when the entire aft section of the vessel exploded. The Alliance has quarantined Noveria, and is on the lookout for any nanite swell on the planet."_

"The Alliance bombed the crash site hours ago," said Captain Aubrey, sombrely, as he paused the stream. "I'm sorry, the Acheron... she was one of our finest."

"...There are no survivors?" asked Elsa.

Aubrey shook his head. "The Alliance hasn't found any."

"That can't be right..." said Zoller. "There were escape pods, shuttles... _someone_ should have made it out!"

"Not if Segal enacted the Black Protocols," said Taggart. "Which he would have, if he declared a nanite alert."

"Black Protocols put the ship on complete lockdown," said Hermes. "That doesn't explain the ship's destruction."

"Self-Destruct," stated Taggart, as if that would explain everything.

"Self-Destruct would have gotten the whole ship," countered Hermes. "Zoller's right. Something's wrong, here... and since the Alliance annihilated the crash site there's no way we can know the truth of what happened."

"What's there to know?!" Taggart slammed his fist on the railing overlooking the holo-pit. "I'll tell you what happened! Saren's responsible for this! He lost the battle of Noveria and played one of this dirty tricks — just like on Eletania! First he cost us Hayha, and now—"

"Captain!" interrupted the comms officer from her station. "I've picked up a weak, coded, burst transmission... a distress signal! Source is a small ship parked outside the Citadel!"

"What of it?" asked Aubrey.

"Well... if this is correct... but it can't be..."

"Out with it!"

"This is the Acheron's IFF!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Charr looked as the light on the side of the coffee can blinked. It wasn't his finest work, as far as pulse beacons went, but it would do.<p>

The human woman on the bunk groaned.

"Easy there," soothed Charr. "I switched it on, and it's transmitting the codes, just like you said it would..." Charr examined Traynor's bandages. They would need changing, and soon... "They'll get here, just you wait."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>There had been a tense stand-off between the European corvette and the ancient Volus light transport. The Europeans weren't certain if this wasn't one of Saren's tricks, and Charr wasn't certain if the ship parked in front of him wasn't affiliated with that other ship that had tried to approach hours earlier. This time, however, the ship responded to Traynor's challenge, something to do with a piece of Terran history, and passed it.<p>

All the same, Charr kept his improvised gauss shotgun aimed at the airlock even as it hissed open. He recognized the golden haired human immediately, and relaxed.

"I remember you," stated the human from behind a Salarian in black and yellow armour.

"And I, you," said Charr, suddenly recalling Renk's defeat. "Your, ah, your friend is in the back. She needs medical help, and fast."

When the marines secured the ship, Nazir and a nurse came in with their First Aid kits. The doctor worked quickly, undoing Charr's makeshift first aid. In seconds he cut away the thermal tape that served as bandages, undid the amateurish stitching that kept the wounds half open, and cleaned away the toxic engine cleanser that had been used as disinfectant. "God, she's lucky to be alive!" he declared.

Taggart, of course, shot a venomous look at Charr.

Charr didn't appreciate that, and defended himself. "Hey, if I had done nothing she would have died!"

"Ye could have used Medi-Gel," countered Taggart, "you barbaric TOAD."

"I would have, if those bastards hadn't shot up my medkit!"

"Wait, you were attacked?" asked Elsa.

It was then Traynor began to vomit, and when she was done Nazir injected her with some anti-radiation medicine. "Get her on a stretcher, now!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>The <em>Surprise'<em>s brig was equipped with an interrogation chamber, complete with an adjoining room with a one-way mirror. Kell Charr sat at a stainless steel table bolted to the floor, while people in the other room were discussing what to do with him.

"So that's a Krogan, eh?" said Captain Aubrey. "Smaller than I expected..."

"He's not the largest specimen," said Taggart. "Their Warlord was close to three bloody metres tall. In any case, I saw we space him as soon as we're done with him."

"Agreed," said Hermes. That had surprised Elsa a bit, and she gave him a questioning look. At this, Hermes felt the need to defend his position. "He's an engineer, remember? For all we know, he might have sabotaged the Acheron and caused its destruction."

"That... doesn't make sense," said Zoller. "If he is responsible for the Acheron's destruction, then he brought a witness to his misdeed all the way here."

"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," warned Taggart.

"Well, I certainly don't plan on letting him near the engine room," said Aubrey, "and I won't space a man — alien or not — who may be innocent." He said this meaningfully, looking at Taggart and Hermes. "And we won't get the truth of the Acheron's fate until Traynor wakes up. So, Mr Spectre, how do you want to proceed?"

"Well," Bau began, "until Traynor becomes able to speak, then all this is a distraction from Devereaux's current objective. I'll have—" he scowled when he saw a human walk into the interrogation room, carrying a pastry and a cup of soykaf. "What the...?"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Are you hungry?" asked Bosch as he set the dessert on the center of the table.<p>

"Is Traynor okay?" asked the Krogan, even as he eyed the pastry hungrily. "I mean, no one will tell me..."

Bosch found that show of concern very interesting. "Ensign Traynor is stable," he said, as he sat opposite the Krogan, "and Doctor Nazir assures me that she will recover in time. The tumours are already becoming smaller."

"Tumours? But..." Kell Charr paused a moment, and realization dawned on him. "Polonium bullets. Shit."

"Quite. Deadly bullets, those. And their presence in Traynor's body raises quite a few questions, and I am hoping that you'll be able to answer some of them." Bosch smiled, and gestured towards the pastry. "Please, help yourself!" Just as the Krogan pulled the dish towards himself, Bosch remembered something. "Oh, what a fool I am! I forgot to offer you some whipped cream..."

He fished out of a small packet of compressed whipped cream from his pocket, and spread it on the pastry before passing it back to Charr. What the Krogan didn't know, even as he chewed it, was that the pastry had been laced with a very potent, but slow acting toxin. The cream, of course, had the cure. Bosch had decided that Kell Charr, being an intelligent and compassionate sort, did not require such pressure tactics. He would cooperate, and cooperate honestly. All Bosch had to do was treat him nicely and politely.

Which was good, because the Scotsman would no doubt have barged in here with a sledgehammer, broken some fingers, and killed the Krogan when he failed to tell him what he wanted to hear. He just seemed like the type.

"It's tasty," said Charr. "What is that?"

"A strudel," replied Bosch. "Mr Kell— may I call you Charr?"

"Sure."

"Charr... news of the fate of the Acheron has reached us recently. Close to a thousand families on Earth will hear of the deaths of their loved ones, and when they do, we'd like to be able to answer them when they ask: 'how?'."

Guilt washed over Charr's face. "I... I was trying to help!"

"No one is accusing you of anything," reassured Bosch. "But right now you're the only one who can tell us what happened. So please, take a moment to collect yourself, and tell us your side of the events that led to the Acheron's destruction."

"Okay... well..."

Charr explained that, under the watchful eye of a squad of marines, he had been on the fighter deck, working on some salvaged Geth technology. Then the alarm klaxons had come on, and panic (and screaming) had overtaken the entire ship. Something had been slowly consuming the ship. Something liquid and metal and very much alive.

"Nanomachines," stated Bosch with horror.

"I think so. My grand-father used to tell me: 'Kid, if you see moving grey goo, kill it with fire'. The stuff was dark blue metal goo, but I figured it was the same thing, so I slapped together a flamethrower and fought off the tendrils trying to... _consume_ me. Other engineers followed suit, and we managed to create a safe zone... but we couldn't escape. The entire ship was locked down."

He went on to explain that some of the bridge crew — which included Traynor and the ship's captain — had made their way to the fighter deck. The captain had quickly given the survivors a plan: undo the lockdown, then make it to anything that could escape the ship.

"That was the plan," said Charr, "until HE came along."

"Who?"

"A human. He was naked, and half of his flesh was corrupted by the black liquid metal. He burst into the fighter bay through one of the big double doors, eyes glowing red with hate. He had a long gun fused with his right arm, and he managed to take out one of the other engineers. There was a slight change of plans, then: the captain took a flamethrower and made his way towards the munitions bay, while HE gave chase..."

"Who's he?"

"I... think I remember his name. He called out the captain's name, in between screaming 'Where's the WHORE?!', and the cap'n answered back with his... I think it was... Godot? No, wait, Gadolt, that was it, yeah!"

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"THAT LYING LIZARD BASTARD!" shouted Taggart, furious. "Gadolt?! Gadolt may have been an asshole, but he was no traitor!"<p>

"Not if he was turned into some kind of super-husk," said Hermes. "Remember that Roegadyn Isaac's team had to dispose of?"

"Didn't Nazir say that Gadolt had a piece of shrapnel in his body?" asked Zoller. "Could that have been..."

"Hush," Elsa commanded, curious as to what the krogan was about to say next. She also made a mental note to speak to Nazir about his examinations of Gadolt.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"So," began Bosch. "You obviously made your way off the Acheron. What happened next?"<p>

"Yeah." Charr nodded. "Me and Traynor and a pilot named Phong. We managed to take one of your fancy support corvettes — jettisoned the cargo, to make room for the escape pods that managed to launch."

"You rescued them?"

"...We tried."

"What happened?"

"We weren't sure at first. Their signals started winking out on the scopes. We managed to get an optic on one of them as they were entering Noveria's atmo. Got torn apart."

"By what?"

"Bullets."

"From which guns? The Acheron's?"

"Doubt it. Ship was blown in half by then. Running lights were off, no more power."

"The Geth."

"Not possible." Charr shook his head. "For a couple of reasons. Nah, near as I can tell, whoever was attacking the pods was completely invisible, both to scanners and the naked eye."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Is that even possible?" asked Elsa to her team, her tone hushed as Charr continued with his story.<p>

"The Normandy and the Durendal proved that stealth in space is possible," agreed Taggart. "And we've had optical camouflage since before the Collapse..."

"No," disagreed Hermes. "I mean, perfect invisibility in space, up to a certain point, that's possible... but once you fire your weapons the sudden spike in thermal and electromagnetic energy would overload the sinks and they'd vent automatically. Then again, the Geth do have some very sophisticated technology..."

Zoller gave Hermes a disapproving look. "If the Geth had any ships with perfect stealth capabilities the battle of Noveria would have gone VERY differently."

"Aye." Taggart nodded. "Lad's got a point there."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"And then," continued Charr, "it was our turn. Both our main engines blew out and we were spiralling down on Noveria."<p>

"And yet, here you are," quipped Bosch. "How did you manage that?"

"Well, you see—"

Bosch recognized the happy look of a gearhead about to launch into a stream of technical jargon and stopped the large krogan engineer right there. "Please, in simple language."

"Oh. Well, the eezo core was still in working order — thank Vaul — and I managed to crank out extra plasma for those fancy thrusters you Terrans use. It was enough for Phong to save us, but the ship didn't do so well. We crashed in the water, but we were lucky enough to be in the equator..."

Charr continued the story. After the crash, they had been picked up by a passing fishing vessel called the _Yass_, captained by a surly old one-eyed Turian with a prosthetic arm, who gladly gave them a ride back to port. Before that, Charr had taken a look at the holes in the support corvette. According to him, damage was consistent with 3.1 mm auto-cannon rounds.

"How do you know this for certain?" asked Bosch.

"I once patched up a Batarian cutter that ran afoul of an human patrol. Their fighters savaged the hull pretty bad."

"I see. Interesting. Carry on."

"Right, anyway... the fishing town the _Yass_ took us to was large enough to warrant a small shipyard, and from there the sailors and I decided to part ways. Krogan weren't exactly welcome in Noveria at the moment, you know?"

"I understand."

"I was negotiating passage on a Volus' little freighter in exchange for my trade... and that was when Traynor comes barging on the dock, mercs firing into her back. She had a shield, thank Vaul, but it gave way pretty soon. The Volus captain caught a stray bullet in the gut and died quick. I managed to send the mercs into cover — you'd be amazed at the range you can get out of a jury-rigged fuel pump and rocket fuel." Charr chuckled a bit. "Picked Traynor up, and flew away. Patched her up once I was sure we were safe."

"And then you made best possible speed towards the Citadel," said Bosch, his tone unbelieving.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"...What do you mean?"

"You could have taken Traynor to any place with proper medical facilities. The Alliance carrier _Bandung_ was on its way to Noveria, was it not?"

"Well, it was already there, and I was about to signal them, but..." Charr shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then started rubbing his wrist. Bosch suspected that the next words coming out of the Krogan's mouth would not be truthful. "Traynor told me not to. Said to head straight for the Citadel, look for your ship."

"And why would she do that?"

"...I dunno," said Charr, staring at his shoes.

Bosch quirked his eyebrow. "I see. Well then!" He rose from his seat. "I have no further questions for you." Charr let out a tired sigh, but then Bosch, halfway to the way out, turned around. "Actually, that's not true. I have one more question, just one more!... Why did you help Traynor?"

"...What do you mean?"

"Well, you did not have to go so far for a stranger that was obviously going to be a lot of trouble. You could have just abandoned Traynor and escaped on your own. Instead, you chose to get involved in a situation that may very well put you at odds with your former employer. So why take the risk?"

"Renk is dead," stated Charr.

"I was referring to Saren."

"I didn't work for Saren, I worked for RENK!" Charr smashed the table with his fist, shouting, but then calmed himself down. "I knew that Kell was working for some Turian, and that the job would involve fixing stuff to help kill folk... but the money was too good, and I got a little stupid." Charr stared at his shoes, but this time out of shame. "I didn't know we were going to invade an entire world. Even when the Geth showed up, even when we were on the ground... I could have backed out. I should have backed out. But I didn't and... When Traynor called for help, I was shooting at her attackers before I knew it, and when it came time to decide what to do with her, I figured... I figured I'd try to make up for not doin' nothing by doing something, you know?"

Bosch nodded sagely. "I know exactly what you mean, Mr. Charr."

"... What's going to happen to me now?"

"I don't know," replied Bosch, looking at the polarized glass meaningfully. "It's not up to me."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>"Ladies and gentlemen," <em>said Aubrey's voice over the intercom._ "Give me your attention. I am afraid we just received some terrible news. Days ago, after a heroic defence of the remote world of Noveria against a vast Geth force, the Acheron was destroyed in orbit. We do not know yet who is responsible, but despite all odds, a witness has made her way here, and is currently recovering in our sickbay."_

Aubrey waited, watching the crew's reaction through the cameras in the hall. Then, he continued: _"I know many of you Bretons hold no love for the Gauls, not since we lost the Unification War. I've made it no secret that I am bitter about it too. But the fact remains that the Acheron and its crew were part of the same family..."_

_"OUR family, The Navy," _he said firmly, reminding the crew of their duty._ "Thus, I want you all to hold a minute a silence to the fallen."_

A minute passed, and no one spoke, nor made a noise.

_"Thank you. That is all."_

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I... I need to sit down."<p>

In the _Surprise's_ sickbay, when Elsa told Nazir about Charr's story, she had likened watching the doctor's face slowly but subtly twisting into an expression of utter horror to a car crash in slow motion.

"My God," he had said, realizing. "The iron shrapnel. I... No! I checked, and I checked again! There were no signs of nanomachines! It was just pure iron!..."And then, it dawned on him: Who used pure iron in this day and age? No one. And that alone should have prompted him to leave Colonel Gadolt in quarantine in Dosadi. And then, he palmed his face with both hands, as the ultimate blame of the Acheron's destruction — and nearly all aboard save one — fell on him.

Elsa had been at a loss as to what to say, as she simply had never been very good at helping people cope with despair. It has been Zoller that had tried to comfort Nazir.

"Right now," the young pilot had said, "All we have is the word of a Krogan, and until Traynor wakes up and confirms his story, it remains just that, a story. And even if Gadolt has been truly turned into a husk, even if you had followed protocol perfectly, he would now be rampaging across a severely weakened Dosadi."

Of course, that had proven no comfort at all to Nazir, and the good doctor had asked them to leave, and had sought to bury himself in his work.

Zoller and Elsa were walking through a hall that led to an mini-tram, quiet and angry and sad at the same time at the recent news.

"I wonder who did it," said Zoller, finally and bitterly. "I wonder who made Captain Ségal's sacrifice nearly worthless." He was referring to the invisible attackers that had, according to Kell Charr, destroyed hundreds of escape pods that had made it out of the Acheron.

"Saren," said Elsa, as they stepped into the mini-tram and input their respective destinations. "Ultimately, it's Saren's fault."

"No," he said. "We have been betrayed. 3.1mm autocannon rounds aren't used by Geth fighters, or even Turian ones. I need to do some research on the matter, however."

"Who uses a caliber that heavy for their machine guns?" asked Elsa. 3.1mm, after all, was a bit too heavy for dogfights in space. Just then, Zoller's stop came up, and he stepped out.

"The Alliance, for one," he said, and the doors slid shut behind him.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>It doesn't matter,<em> Elsa told herself as she stepped into the hangar bay, where the 108 had stored itself after putting the Templar in the brig. _Ultimately, Saren is responsible._

She approached the 108 'mech', getting close enough to try and peer into its golden visor and see the man that was really inside of it. She looked left, and right, and satisfied that nobody was looking, said. "Ouvre ton casque. Laisse-moi te voir... s'il-te-plait?"

The 108 obeyed, and the golden polarized glass melted back to reveal, much to her chagrin, nothing but steel and sensors and wires. Jake Armitage, her _horloger_, wasn't there at all.

"It doesn't matter," she said, lighting a cigarette as the 108's faceplates snapped shut. "Actually, maybe it's for the best. You would have protested I think. Or maybe not, and I would have hated you for it." She laughed sadly, an aura of smoke whirling around her. "I have to hunt down a man I have no quarrel with. For all I know that man could be perfectly innocent. But it's the only way...I hope you forgive me."

She shut the 108's coffin. Tomorrow, the hunt would begin.

_**~[h+]~**_

_**Author's note: Wish I could say I spent the past month writing this, but the short chapter length proves otherwise, sadly. The Patreon's been keeping me busy. I have some good news, though. I've been contacted by some folks at Digital Extremes: apparently someone there liked my Warframe inspired artwork... :)**_


	59. Chapter 50: In Sheep's clothing, part 5

Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix

Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts

Deus Ex is the property of Square Enix

Mass Effect: Human Revolution:

Chapter 50: In Sheep's Clothing, part 5

Special thanks to WarpObscura for the spell-checking.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"Oh, quelle horreur..." said Elsa. <em>What horror.<em> That summed up the gory crime scene fairly well. The European pilot remembered seeing plenty of violence, especially in her teens, when gang wars were common in the less fortunate areas of Paris. She remembered the ugly aftermath of violence motivated by rage, or hate, or sadism, and sometimes even machismo. But as she walked throughout the ruined home of the late Executor Pallin, the sole of her shoes kept inches away from the ground by force fields, she had to admit, Adam Jensen's bloody rampage made her feel a bit ill.

Zoller, on the other hand, could barely contain his breakfast. He was currently vomiting in a bag he had brought for just that occasion, when he was told that he would be accompanying Elsa to the scene of a triple murder. The sight of PC Dana Biers, whose face had been clawed off, exposing brains and an eye, had proven too much for his constitution.

Three bodies were at the scene, each one belonging to a C-Sec officer that — according to the report Elsa had read on the way — had responded to a robbery in progress. Apparently, the perpetrator had been none other than Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian. When they had been caught, Adam proceeded to kill all three officers at the scene while Garrus secured their quarry — Pallin's granddaughter, Livia — in their car. That had been when Spectre Tarkus, with the aid of Spectre candidate John Vandermark and a squad of Alliance Marines, had arrived on the scene. That part of the report had been oddly brief: the squad engaged Adam Jensen, and failed to capture either him or Garrus Vakarian, who had evaded his pursuers and disappeared somewhere in the Upper Wards.

Elsa knelt down by the nearest corpse and examined it. According to the holographic readouts, there was some bruising around Biers' throat that proved that Jensen had tried to strangle her, first. The nearby stain on the wall and fracture on the side of Biers' skull — helpfully highlighted and pointed at by orange arrows — suggested that he then changed his mind and smashed her head once against the wall before clawing her face off. With Jensen apparently lacking actual claws, the blunt force trauma inflicted by his fingers made for a gruesome mess.

"Jensen seems to enjoy toying with his prey," said Elsa out loud.

"Hm..." was all that came out of Jondum Bau as a reply.

"...Is something the matter?"

"I'm not certain yet. Keep examining the scene, and THEN draw your conclusion, please."

"As you wish." Elsa moved on to one of the other two bodies. It seemed that Sam Anders had managed to put up a fight, judging by the marked bullet holes on the walls of the living room. The ones on the ceiling marked the moment when Jensen grabbed Anders by the wrist of his shooting arm, and ripped out the poor police officer's spine through the belly, splaying out a few miles of intestines on the way out.

"Oh, _Scheiße_," muttered Zoller as he came upon the scene.

"I know," said Elsa. "There's being brutal... and then there's being sadistic." She turned to look at the ensign, and saw that he was getting even paler. "You'll get used to it," she said a bit coldly. "Everyone does."

"I'm sorry," he gulped, surpressing a retch. "I thought I was made of sterner stuff, as the English say. I thought that after Noveria..."

"The cockpit filters out the horror," said Elsa, dismissively. "No need to apologize. Do you think you can handle one more?"

"I... yes, ready, _Leutnant_."

The third victim's body, one Galen Tyrell, was actually outside, a tree branch through his head keeping his feet from touching the ground. Since the branch didn't pierce the brain in the critical area, his death had been slow, though all things considered, he had gotten a relatively less horrible death than his other two fellow C-Sec officers. Caim Carleon stood beneath the shade of the tree, staring up at the corpse, his expression unreadable as several C-Sec officers assigned to keep the house secured kept a wide berth from the racist with swords.

Elsa and Zoller returned to the living room, where the 108 and Jondum Bau were waiting for her. She had tried to glean clues from the scene, anything that might give her insight as to Jensen's motives, but all she could see was raw sadism powered by myomer cords.

Bau pressed a few buttons on his Omni-Tool, sending commands to every emitter in the house. The haptic displays and holograms of the corpses vanished, much to the relief of Zoller. The blood, however, still remained. The Spectre was now looking at Elsa, awaiting, no doubt, to be impressed. "Your conclusions?" he asked, just as Caim walked in.

Elsa was a bit lost: she was, after all, a pilot, not a detective. Then again, all the evidence had been catalogued and highlighted... all she had to do was piece it together. But what was the point? All the evidence, down to every little detail, painted Adam Jensen as a madman.

All of it.

_Wait a minute..._ she thought. "It's too clean," she said.

"Oh?" Bau suppressed a smile. "What makes you say that?"

"This feels like an orgy of evidence, all conveniently pointing at Jensen. It's just... having read his profile, if he wanted to murder those police officers, I believe he would have been stealthier and more surgical."

**"I happen to agree," **said a voice. Then, mechanical footsteps came down the stairs, and came around the wall to reveal who it belonged to: a mech, with a curved monocoque shell painted red, its exposed actuators painted silver, and its single eye glowing a bright blue. It was instantly recognizable as a Coalition 'Georgie'. **"And seeing as I've personally spoken with Adam Jensen, I don't believe in the idea that he's gone completely insane simply for being sacked by C-Sec... especially since the Coalition, among others, was quite interested in giving him a job."**

Elsa glared at the robot, before finally recognizing the voice that came out of its speaker. "Yang?"

**"Yes, it's me. Why are you..." **The mech stared down at its cavernous chest and clawed, ape-like arms. ** "Oh, right. Robot. I forgot." **The Georgie scratched the back of its head, causing the steel to screech, much to the annoyance of everyone.** "Ah! Apologies... I'm handling my investigation through telepresence, hence the modified mech. As I was saying, I agree with your assessment of the scene, and I took the liberty of hiring a consulting detective to have a closer look at it. I am more than willing to share his findings with you, assuming you're willing to do the same."**

"This unit is equiped with a sensor suite rated for crime scene investigations," said the 108, almost proud of the fact.

"See?" said Zoller. "We have no need for aid, least of all from a Coolie. So leave!"

The Georgie was incapable of glaring, but Elsa got the feeling Yang was trying real hard to make it do just that from wherever he actually was.** "...I have just as much a right to be here as you do, Ensign. You cannot simply kick me out." **The mech turned its glowing gaze upon Elsa. **"Are we then to ignore one another, and jealously hold on to our own parts of the picture, leaving it incomplete? As I've said, the Council expects us to fail. Only cooperation will see us succeed."**

Elsa let out a sigh: despite her suspicions, she didn't actually have anything to go on at the moment. Refusing help, even from the hero of the Coallition, would be kind of stupid in her opinion. "I suppose it can't hurt to hear what this detective has to say."

"Leutnant!" protested Zoller.

"When is he coming?" she asked, ignoring the ensign. Just as she asked, she heard a C-Sec guard stop someone at the door. She went there with the 108 in tow to investigate the commotion, and saw a tall — if a bit lanky — Asian man trying futilely to prove to the C-Sec officer guarding the front door that he had authorization to be here. He was well dressed, in his long dark tweed coat and blood red scarf, though Elsa wondered why he felt the need to decorate his already finely carved eyepatch with a flower, of all things. Then again, japan DID always have some interesting bits of street fashion...

"Permit?" the Turian officer asked again, firmly. Before him the young man nervously patted himself down after checking his pockets.

"Oh, dear, I can't seem to find it..." he said, sheepishly, and Elsa watched him as he victoriously produced the holo-papers from his jacket pocket. She noticed that the hand he was using to submit his consulting detective's permit was made of finely wrought black steel. "Ah, there it is!" he said, happily, and then Elsa's attention was focused on his very pleasant voice, a voice that she recalled hearing somewhere, but the exact time and place escaped her...

He was very handsome, too, she realized, and then she wondered if she had some kind of fetish for men with artificial limbs, recalling the effect 'Jake Armitage' had on her. _Or maybe I like broken men_, she thought, before refocusing her attention on the task at hand.

Yang's remotely operated robot approached, and beckoned the young detective to come over the living room, where quick introductions were made for one Kenzo Keaton-Tenma, a twenty-five year old British-Japanese sleuth. His mannerisms were that of a shy salaryman — which grew like weeds in the OCU — And Elsa couldn't help but wonder just how much help such an awkward fellow like him could possibly be.

"I.. I don't know just how much help I can be here," he said out loud, almost as if reading Elsa's mind and responding. "I mean, ah, well, the scene has obviously been tampered with, no?"

"We believe that may be the case," said Bau. "But so far, we can't confirm it."

It was then that Tenma gave a curious, but knowing look to Caim, of all people. "You haven't told them?"

Caim was puzzled by that comment for a moment, and then all eyes were on him. "What is he talking about?" asked Elsa.

After a moment of consideration, Caim answered. "It's the smell."

"I don't smell anything," said Zoller, sniffing

"That's the problem," replied Caim. "This is a place of death, and yet it smells like... nothing. It smells not of blood, or shit, or maggots."

"It has been a few days since the murder," said Bau. "The bodies are at the morgue."

"And the stench should have lingered," commented Caim. "I would have smelled it."

"Even without corpses," continued Tenma, the nervous salaryman persona slowly eroding to reveal that of a confident investigator, "this place should smell of a home, of dust, of turian sweat. Do you smell that here?"

Caim shook his head.

"That's because someone pumped this place with an anti-olfactive agent," Tenma continued. "You normaly wouldn't detect with your Omni-Tool: the agent is non-toxic and does not trigger any alerts... but it's easy to find in your toxicity app's report if you know what you're looking for."

Bau double-checked his Omni-Tool, and there was indeed a non-toxic chemical in the air, designed specifically to dull olfactive sensing organs. "...This raises quite a few questions, now. Why spread this agent around? Why tamper with the scene? Who did it and why?"

"In my experience," said Tenma, "covering up a scene involves plaster, concrete, and fresh paint, or even just detergent, things that leave a scent behind, and that an incredibly thorough criminal would account for."

_A criminal... or a Spectre_, thought Elsa, knowing that Vandermark and his supervising Spectre — a Turian named Tarkus — had had access to the scene for the past three days, long before anyone else did.

**"Then we need to reconstruct the original crime scene,"** said Yang through the Georgie, which turned its main optic towards Bau. **"Can you grant us full access to the scene?"** he requested, referring to the force fields that kept anyone from interfering with the crime scene.

"I would also like to see the holograms of the bodies, if you don't mind?" asked Tenma, barely hiding some giddiness.

Bau took a moment to consider the requests, then finally nodded and typed into his Omni-Tool, accessing devices that kept the crime scene secure. A red icon appeared on the interface floating above his palm, instead, and the force fields kept humming.

Bau quirked his brow. "It appears my Spectre authorization doesn't work on the force fields. Odd."

"You're been locked out?" asked Elsa. "By whom?"

"Spectre Tarkus," said Bau, confirming her suspicions. "Even stranger, I can't seem to override his lockdown. He's gotten strangely good at encryption."

Elsa turned to the 108. "Can you help at all?"

"Yes." replied the machine. Bau's haptics scrambled for a moment, and suddenly a cartoon version of Edgar Hein began to interact with the elements of his interface. Streams of code appeared, and before long Tarkus' complex security was broken.

"Remind me to dispose of this Omni-Tool at my earliest convenience," said Bau, as the tiny Hein vanished from sight, getting a smirk from Elsa.

"108?" she said. "Can you assist Tenma in his investigation?"

"Yes." Almost immediately, the 108's armour opened up, revealing countless little sensors and cameras, which began scanning the walls.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>It would take at least half an hour for the 108 to completely scan the house, a time during which Elsa had little to do but twiddle her thumbs. When she tired of that after five minutes, she considered her options:<p>

Right now, there were two people she really wanted to speak to: Caim, and Yang. Both men puzzled her a little. Caim seemed to be a disciplined soldier, but he had flown off the handle when he saw the 108 yesterday. Yang, meanwhile, kept defying her expectations of what a citizen of the Coalition was. She had encountered Drones before: men and women turned almost mindless by the harsh Human Hive philosophies of Chairman Sheng-Ji Yang. This particular Yang, however, was quite capable of holding a conversation, and lacked the blind faith and patriotic fervor of other drones. Then again, neither did Ambassador Cherdenko... but ambassadors were just that, ambassadors, and that meant Elsa did not trust her first impression of him.

She approached Yang's mechanical avatar, which was squatting on a couch as it waited patiently for the 108 to finish its own scans of the crime scene. Elsa thought this a bit strange: why did a remote-controlled robot need to be comfortable?

"Yang?" she said, getting his attention.

**"Yes?"** he replied, his voice metallic. **"I'm glad you've decided to cooperate with me, regardless of our affiliations."**

Elsa crossed her arms. "I actually haven't agreed to anything."

**"Please don't be difficult about this..."**

"I'm not!" she said, almost coyly, as she took out a cigarette from her silver jacket's inner pocket. "What's that American saying? United we stand, divided we fall?"

**"Appropriated by the Americans, actually. The saying actually originated from ancient Greece. One of Aesop's fables, more precisely."**

"Ah... I didn't know that." She lit her cigarette, and breathed the smoke in, then out, letting an aura of smoke surround her. "I take it your history class curriculum was more thorough than mine?"

**"Very thorough. Our children know the history of the Coalition — from its inception to its present — by heart. Anything else, however... well, let's just say I should have been taken to a re-education camp just for mentioning Aesop." **

Elsa just let her cigarette burn at that last part. Imprisoned and brainwashed for knowing about Aesop? "That's... awful."

**"...I know."**

There was a story there, but judging by the sadness in Yang's voice, Elsa knew better than to pry. "...So, you said earlier that you met Adam Jensen."

**"Yes, I have."**

"When?"

**"Days ago, here on the Citadel."** The Georgie nodded at the crime scene. **"A day after the incident here. I... that is, my assistant and I, had gotten lost in the city and wandered about until we found our way on the Silversun Strip. During that time, Ambassador Cherdenko was trying to convince Jensen to work for me. He thought that tracking me down would be a good test of his abilities. It had only taken him an hour to find us at the arcade... why are you smiling?"**

"And now, your task is to track him down to become Spectre."

**"...Ah, yes, _irony_. I see it now. In any case, I was playing a game of Kepesh-Yakshi..."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>Polgara T'suzsa, for all intents and purposes, had won. And honestly, what chance did this rube of a human have against her? He had played poorly, reinforcing his flanks and weakening his center, and had left his flagship open to attack. Thus she had gone for the center, and smiled as the flagship's squadron gave more and more space.<em>

_"Don't feel too bad," said T'suzsa as she planned her manoeuvres for the next activation phase. All she had to do now was focus on the center and take down her opponent's flagship, and inflict morale damage on every single ship in his fleet, after which the planet would be ripe for conquest... "Kepesh-Yakshi is an ancient game, based on strategies refined through thousands of years of interstellar warfare and hundreds of battles. It's an easy enough game to learn, but it takes _centuries_ to master..." She gave her opponent's companion a quick look. She was a pale skinned young woman, with well-combed golden-brown hair that complimented her milky, pale skin. T'suzsa knew a love-struck puppy when she saw one. Oh, she thought, you poor dear, you could do so much better..._

_Her opponent, who had been silent until then, finally spoke._

_"The Asari have not won a single war in the past thousand years..." said Yang. His tone was almost droning, the way a history teacher schooling a child usually sounded. "...at least not by proxy. I find it difficult to believe they could refine any stratagem based on that track record."_

_That irked T'suzsa quite a great deal. How dare this ape squatting on his chair criticize the Asari? "And how would you know?" she asked, her tone venomous. "Asari culture had been exploring the stars while you were using stone-tipped spears. What would you know of a hundred millenia of our history?"_

_"Iron," he replied coolly. _

_"What?"_

_"580 BC was the Iron Age for both Europe and China. Our spears were tipped with iron."_

_"I don't care what you savages used to kill one another. Just play."_

_"...As you wish."_

_They executed their manoeuvres, and T'suzsa was not surprised in the least to see that Yang attempted a pincer movement with his frigates... which of course, her cruisers, with their enhanced lateral firepower, could easily push away._

_"Interesting you should mention your space age," said Yang. "How long did it take for the Asari to create a ship capable of breaking away from Thessia's gravity?"_

_T'suzsa smiled, as this was a point of pride for every Asari. "The history behind the flight of the Osiria is long and filled with—"_

_"—assassinations and sabotage. In fact, part of the reason why it took two hundred years of effort for the Asari to reach space was because the rivalries between the city-states over the space race got so vicious and bitter that the Second War of Assassins was declared... which nobody won, I might add."_

_"Oh, and I suppose you humans didn't fight bitterly over the honour of being the first ones in space?"_

_"The USA and USSR certainly tried to one up each other. If they had kept things friendly, humanity would have reached within five years, maybe. I suppose a couple of decades isn't so bad, wouldn't you say?"_

_"...Just play."_

_"As you wish. Combat Phase begins..." declared Yang. Then, as if it were made of pure filth, Yang carefully pinched one of his holographic cards and revealed his Fleet Admiral. "I exhaust Tarsus. Any ship within range one of his flagship may reroll its defence..."_

_"That's his passive," patronized the Asari strategist._

_"...I know, but exhausting him allows his entire fleet to brace for impact at the cost of their attack."_

_"Ha! You delay the inevitable!"_

_"Maybe. Or maybe, if you had any inkling of respect for human history, you'd know it would be wise to forfeit this game."_

_"Don't be ridiculous! Your force has been halved! Your Flagship is as good as mine!"_

_"...Tell me, have you ever heard of the battle of Cannae?"_

_"Some Turian skirmish?" T'suzsa said dismissively. If she had paid a bit more attention, she would have seen Yang's assistant smirk._

_"Not quite," said Yang, who was most certainly not smirking. He was, however projecting an aura that should have made the Asari tactician realize how outmatched she actually was... but she simply could not admit it, not even to herself._

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"I think I can see where this is headed," said Elsa, familiar with the battle.<p>

**"And my opponent didn't,"** replied Yang. **"And just like Varro, she went straight for the heart. I won't bore you with all the rules of the game: suffice to say, getting boxed was not to her advantage, despite having superior numbers and cruisers with superior lateral armaments. I slowly squeezed her entire fleet, and eventually..."**

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"NO!" <em>T'suzsa was screeching now, stomping the ground petulantly. "NO NO NO! I refuse to accept this!"<em>

_Eventually the commotion she was causing caught the attention of the Krogan bouncer, who had had to carry her off outside the arcade so that the other players could finally play in peace. "I'LL HAVE THE COMPANY RELEASE AN ERRATA!" she screamed. "ENJOY YOUR TURIAN REBEL BUILD WHILE YOU CAN!"_

_The many Kepesh players that had been watching the game with great interest were now showering Yang with praise. Eventually, someone cut through the monotony by clearing his throat. Sitting opposite Yang was a dark-haired human wearing sunglasses and a longcoat. _

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>"And that man was Adam Jensen."<p>

**"Yes."**

"And...?"

**"...And?"**

"Then what happened?"

**"We played a game of Go, which I won with some difficulty, and he told me that it was time for me to get back to the Agamemnon."**

"And that's it?"

**"Yes. What were you expecting?"**

"I don't know... a shoot-out, maybe? What was the point of all that build up with this T'suzsa?"

**"...I thought it was funny,"** the Georgie shrugged.

Elsa couldn't help but wonder if Yang was hiding something from her. "So, fresh off a murder and getting chased by a joint Spectre/Alliance task force, Adam shows up for a job interview, then makes time for a game of Go?... Isn't that a little odd?"

**"I know. I asked around C-Sec, and near as I can tell both C-Sec and the Spectres wanted to deal with Adam's capture as quietly as possible. It wasn't until his alleged bombing of Oleen hospital that they had no choice but to make his status as a wanted criminal public."**

"Interesting..."

**"Very."**

"So what was your impression of him? Jensen, I mean?"

**"...Not crazy."**

"...Think you can give me a little more than that?"

The Georgie remained still for a moment, then: "**In games I can always gauge how my opponent thinks... usually by the games they pick. Truth is, that was my first game of kepesh. When T'susza picked it, and revealed her many, many expansion packs I understood that she liked to **_**purchase**_** power, rather than use her basic units more effectively. Her opening moves revealed that she held to the surgical mindset of all Asari commanders. Adam had picked Go, a simple game, a profound game, a game that cares nothing of money."**

"How did he play?"

**"Very poorly... at first. And then he played like a master... which was strange."**

"How so?"

**"I couldn't shake the feeling that he was REMEMBERING how to play Go as the game went on... like he had played something like it a long time ago."**

"...Do you think he was trying to hustle you?"

**"It's possible. In any case, replaying that game in my head cements my belief that Adam is innocent of this crime. Games brings out slivers of our true selves, and when Adam lost the game he took it with far too much grace..." t**he Georgie's optics lingered on the holograms of the corpses for a moment.** "...for this."**

"If you think Adam is innocent," said Elsa as she put away her cigarette in a metal cylinder, "then why pursue him? Why try and get us all to cooperate?"

**"...It was a **_**very**_** good game of Go,"** said Yang.

"...What does _that_ mean?" asked Elsa, incredulous.

**"...Speaking of opening moves," **replied Yang while not answering her question at all, "**have you paid attention to Kim's? And Vandermark's?"**

Elsa shook her head, as she was unsure what Yang meant by 'opening moves'. "No. What does that have to do with anything?"

**"They didn't come here. That means I won't be trusting them to cooperate any longer. Still not sure about Frost, though."**

Now things were getting frustratingly cryptic. _"Bon, faut que j'y aille."_

Yang's mech nodded, and Elsa moved on.

She was about to speak to Tenma when she heard Caim speak: "I do not remember you, alien. Stop pestering me about it."

"I find that hard to believe," replied Bau. "In fact, you reacted violently at the sight of the 108. It's previous model was present at Caleston."

Caleston... that had gotten Elsa's attention. She had heard that one of Saren's minions had died there. _So the 108 was there? Was it an actual machine... or Jake?_

"...I only know what I have been told," said Caim.

"What were you told?" asked Bau.

"That my brethren and I were victims of alien Diablerie. You were there. Do you deny it?"

"...No. But I find your apparent amnesia a little too convenient."

"Are we to fight, then?"

"No. If you prove a liability, I'll simply kill you."

Caim chuckled. "At least your intentions are clear. A credit to your cowardly race, indeed!"

Bau let the insult slide. "You're deflecting. You remember Caleston, and your attack on the 108 is proof."

"Fine, _yes_. I remember seeing an abomination much like it on Caleston. And I shan't forget the defeat my coterie suffered at its hands... But that is all! All else... is a blur."

"Abomination is your term for cyborgs, yes?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"The 108 is not an augmented person."

"It is still a fusion of flesh and metal, and that in and out of itself is an abomination!" Caim seethed. " The fact that there is no soul to taint matters little in the face of the fact that this... 108 was the product of a man's design." Caim sneered. "Now, are you done pestering me, alien?"

Elsa really, really wished that Ambassador Katsulas hadn't so heavily implied that no, she couldn't just have Caim guard the latrines...

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>Were he not wearing the skin of this 'Keaton-Tenma', Ramsus would have laughed, for he knew that Caim did recall something other than the object of his hate: Pure delight, in the form of a slender young asari... fragile, innocent, and hungry for sin. Yes, not even the indoctrination and fanaticism of a Templar could render Caim immune to her touch. She now occupied a corner in his mind, and set it ablaze with things that distracted the Templar away from his one true love: slaughter. Things like longing, things like joy, things like lust...<p>

It was so very ironic: only by touching an alien creature did a Templar suddenly become more... human.

Ramsus made a note to use that to his advantage, if he could. He could describe Manah in splendid detail, proving that he knew her, and the promise of a meeting with her could make Caim open to a suggestion. Or better yet, teach Manah how to use him...

"Hé," said Elsa behind him. He had been observing Biers's corpse, which was, much to his disappointment, a hologram.

Ramsus acted startled, and clutched his heart in 'relief' as Tenma saw that Elsa wasn't whatever boogie-man his fake persona was supposed to be afraid of. "Oh, please don't surprise me like that!"

"Sorry," she said. She looked down at the holographic corpse. "Figured anything out, yet?"

"A little. I think I managed to glean the killer's motive..."

"Which is?"

"Hatred. Revenge... though not directed at any of the victims. There's just something just so... casual about the damage inflicted on their bodies, to the point that it makes me wonder if they were killed simply to... make someone else angry. Notice how the body was placed just so, so that it would be the first thing you see when entering the room? Almost as if the killer was taunting someone, daring him to go after him."

"Assuming the state of the body is genuine... it's a hologram. I don't think I can trust anything that can be modified with a few lines of code. For all I know Ms. Biers's body in the morgue is intact save for a couple of ruptured veins here and there."

"Wisely said. Honestly, I think I would prefer seeing the real deal myself."

Elsa gave him a mildly disgusted look. Apparently, he had sounded just a little bit too enthusiastic. "Fond of murders, are you?"

"There's a certain simple art to them, I think. And art fascinates me: you can always peer into the mind of a painter, or a sculptor, or a composer, by looking at his works... no matter how terrible, or in this case, no matter how false."

It was then that Elsa began to glare at him, suspecting something of him, but just as soon as the thought formed, Ramsus merely 'pushed' it away. Ramsus kept a close eye on Elsa's aura of pink light, wreathed in green embers, wary of any other sign of recognition, even as he turned on the charm while they spoke much about little.

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p>After half an hour, the 108 had finished its scans, and it input the data into the Crime Scene Hologram system. Almost immediately, the haptics around the house surged to life, covering the entire scene, highlighting signs of tampering and approximating the original damage caused by a brutal fight between what could only have been two superhumans...<p>

"Oh my..." said Zoller. "It would take days to sift through the raw data..."

"Give me an hour," said Bau and Tenma in unison and, in even less time than that, they managed to reconstruct a more accurate picture of the events of 3 days ago: Adam, as far as they could tell from the cracks, fist indentations and large caliber bullet holes that had been filled with fresh ferrocrete, had been trying to fight the actual murderer throughout the entire house, after playing a brief game of cat and mouse. Whoever he was fighting was his equal in physical strength, that much was certain.

"Who else but Adam Jensen could—" Caim began to argue, and he was promptly shut down by Elsa with: "—Someone in power armour," while she gave him a meaningful look.

"But what was Jensen doing here, in the first place?" asked Zoller.

"Not only that," thought Bau out loud, "I have to wonder what the killer was doing here, as well. Waiting for Jensen? An attempt on Livia Pallin's life?"

"But that's not all," said Ramsus. "I am almost certain that there was someone else at the scene, someone nearly as strong as Jensen."

"There was a second killer?" asked Elsa.

"No... not a killer. An ally."

_**~[h+]~**_

* * *

><p><em>As he was punched into a nearby wall, Bailey realized that he was much, much too old for this shit.<em>

_**"whY aRe yOu hElPing HIM?!"** screeched the thing that wore Lang's face._

_Bailey, his back against the wall, felt the aching, dull part of his face with his hand, and felt cool titanium on his fingertips. His face was really messed up, and he wondered if his optic cover had been torn off as well, to reveal the green glow inside of his mechanical iris._

_"That's gonna cost you, kid!" the second-gen Snatcher growled, and tackled Lang to the ground._

_"Bailey!" screamed Adam in horror, as it was obvious that Lang was the more powerful machine. "BAILEY!"_

_**~[h+]~**_


End file.
